Author Archives: Amy Jane

So many books…

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…so little time.

My Library has (as they say) joined the 21st century.

In addition to an on-line catalog and a list of my books (sorted by due date), the library now provides a means to renew and reserve materials on-line.

I have fallen in love with the reserve feature, as I’ve been looking for titles to expand my book-100.

Now when I see a book or series recommended, I will go to my library’s page and reserve it if it’s in their system. They pull the book from whatever its home library is, and send it to the one I visit.

Lovely system, having the books waiting for me when I walk in.

The only difficulty is on days like today, when I come home with 5 items and suffer the question of where to start.

It’s a relief too, though, to even have that choice.

I think the last novel I’ve read all the way through was The Sherwood Ring and that was a whole month ago. I keep starting things and being disgusted or bored and unwilling to waste my time on something I don’t find delightful.

“Life is short enough,” you know?

Of course, this is the reason my mom says she won’t read/watch anything she knows is sad, no matter how highly I recomend them.

While I agree with her to an extent, there are some things I’ve read where I felt that the beauty in/despite the sadness was worth it.

That said, I now have a collection of “pre-Islamic” tales from Persia, and two novels, all of which look very promising.

My Work

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Let me do my work from day to day,
In fields or forests, at the desk or loom,
In roaring market place or tranquil room.
Let me find it in my heart to say,
When vagrant wishes beckon me astray,
“This is my work – my blessing, not my doom –
Of all who live I am the only one by whom
this work can best be done in my own way.”
Then I shall see it, not too great or small,
To suit my spirit and arouse my powers.
Then shall I cheerfully greet the laboring hours,
And cheerfully turn, when long shadows fall
at eventide, to play and love and rest,
Because I know for me my work was best.

Henry Van Dyke

I got *a lot* done today. Forgive me a list of accomplishments.

  • Cleaned girls’ room despite their lack of interest/assistance
    • The lack of interest proved useful by allowing me to actively (not secretively) thin their playthings.
  • Tidied (that work looks wrong…) all the back of the house
  • Vacuumed the (finally!) cleared floors in back of house
  • Directed the girls’ finishing their daily chore (emptying dishwasher)
  • Defused numerous spats related to being tired and feeling “deprived” at not being able to play or go outside while they dragged their feet over getting their room finished.
  • Read with the girls

This all before noon. At noon, two little cousins arrived and began round two of my day

  • Babysat two extra kids for an hour– played outside with two babies and three preschoolers, got some great pix.
  • Made and supervised lunch
  • Read-to and got all three kids to nap at once
  • Cleaned both bathrooms
  • Swept kitchen and dining room (this has been daily through Spring season– I am very thankful for our new laminate floors)
  • Mopping kitchen and dining room (desperately needed)

All this cleaning was at the direct expense of cooking– I had nothing planned/ready for dinner and we ended up snacking/convenience-fooding our way through the evening.

But I really didn’t mind.

All this on top of yesterday’s accomplishment of getting *all* the laundry washed and folded has left me tired (a little) but very pleased with what I’ve accomplished.

Revisiting Poems

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I tripped across the original post that had these along with another, and it reminded me of my clumsy attempt to explain my use for poetry.

That said, I wanted to put them back up here to be read again, and then I’m going to go read in the living room where my husband is working on his computer.

I’ve felt off-balance all day…

~ ~ ~

And another regrettable thing about death
Is the ceasing of your own brand of magic,
Which took a whole life to develop and market—
The quips, the witticisms, the slant
Adjusted to just a few, those loved ones nearest
The lip of the stage…

From Perfection Wasted by John Updyke

~

We know little
We can tell less
But one thing I know
One thing I can tell
I will see you again in Jerusalem
Which is of such beauty
No matter what country you come from
You will be more at home there
Than ever with father or mother
Than even with lover or friend
And once we’re within her borders
Death will hunt us in vain

From Four Poems in One by Anne Porter

 

 

Indirect Attack

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In the movie Amazing Grace, after years of “frontal” attacks failed, the opponents of the slave trade decided to dog-leg an attack.

By imposing a restriction that would put the pinch on slave ships, the law made it hard to continue in the current system, even while it remained legal.

I have not been able to determine the veracity of that segment (though it was very good storytelling), but have wondered if the Pro-Life supporters have ever looked for or found a similar sideways attack.

The law seeking to make the murder of a pregnant woman a double-homicide is the closest I can think of (as no “average American” could object to the emotional appeal of the law).

However, it was strongly opposed by the abortion supporters who recognized the assault it was on their “values.”

(The chief of those values being the inconsequence of the “by-product of pregnancy.”)

~ ~ ~

A suggestion I have (though part of me hopes it’s out-dated) is to begin making surprise-inspections of all clinics that perform any sort of in-room surgical procedure, to verify each is in compliance with the codes of cleanliness and sterility expected of surgical sites.

This would, by the specific wording of the bill, include abortion-providers.

Years ago I remember hearing pro-lifers (and abortion survivors) lament that there was no oversight to abortion clinics, and a claim was out there that veterinarians had more regulation and oversight than abortionists did.

There have also been some serious allegations of post-abortion deaths directly linked to improperly cleaned surfaces and/or equipment.

Even if things have cleaned up since then (and without oversight, how do we know?), instituting equivalent governmental oversight would continue to chip away at the sacred, all-knowing, infallible sanctity of “Choice,” and those revered suppliers of choice.

Something that could only help the fight for the unborn.

As such, I’m sure this too would be recognized for the attack it is.

But, as with Laci and Connor’s Law that acknowledges two victims when a pregnant woman is killed, my hope and prayer is that the basic sense of such requirements would help it withstand the attacks against what it represents.

The Washington Post had an excellent quote from President Bush.

“Today’s decision affirms that the Constitution does not stand in the way of the people’s representatives enacting laws reflecting the compassion and humanity of America.”

I have never dwelt much on what Bush says, but that line just thrilled me.

Yes, humanity is woefully fallible, but nearly all the good work God has done since creation has been accomplished through the will, minds and hands of we who are created in His image.

The New Abortion Ban

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What everyone (involved) hope/feared has begun coming true.

For the first time since 1973 a limitation on abortion has been upheld by the “new” Supreme Court.

~ ~ ~

The largest (legal) objection to the ban on partial-birth abortion seems to be that there is no exception allowed for the woman’s health.

The supreme court concluded, as did the people who framed the law, that there are other methods of abortion that may guard a woman’s health if this became an issue.

I am one of those (in case there was any question) who believes the only exception for an abortion ban should be the threatened life of the mother.

The whole idea that abortion was illegal before the 1973 Supreme Court ruling is a misperception.

Coat hangers are propaganda.

There were health exceptions to the abortion ban before 1973, and “thoughtful” providers could code a woman at health-risk for something as survivable as emotional angst or fear, for which there are options besides abortion.

I now expect “the life of the mother” to be interpreted equally broadly, and so have no fear that a woman could actually die from lack-of-abortion in America.

The Carnival of Beauty– Provision

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One generation shall praise Your works to another,
And shall declare Your mighty acts.

Psalm 145:4

 

We recall God’s provision to keep a heart of gratitude and remember our absolute dependency on him.

Carnival of Beauty

He has given us so many good gifts, and I hope any readers will take this carnival as an invitation to record their own experiences of God’s provision.

In my own experience, I’ve found my journals to be one of my best answers to the Enemy’s lie that God is not involved in my tiny existence.

Here are some snapshots from our experience.

I pray they encourage your hearts, and open your eyes to see God working in your own lives. (If you have something you’d like to add, look at my note about submissions.)

Amanda from following an unknown path recounts just a few of the numerous ways the Lord has been her Jehovah-jireh, the One who sees her needs and meets them.

My contribution on Untangling Tales is the story one of the many gifts of provision from the end of my grandmother’s life: One Pearl From a Necklace.

The Beauty of Provision– One Pearl From a Necklace

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Carnival of Beauty

After two weeks in the hospital, my 87-year-old grandmother died on Tuesday evening, August 1st, 2006.

Before, during, and after the event I saw God’s provision, like a beautiful string of pearls, poured into my hand. It conformed to my shape– my unique needs– and continues to glow with beauty and value.

~ ~ ~

God knows what we need before we ask for it, and sometimes provides before we know to ask.

It is no small thing to say that *God is Faithful.*

~ ~ ~

Since January (when we’d been forced into a 1-car lifestyle) I’d been stopping in to visit with Grandma early every week, and found myself in a wonderfully comfortable “girlfriend” relationship.

We talked about hopes and goals, kids and husbands (even though hers had died two years before).

Our relationship was almost defined by its one-on-oneness.

When we knew that Grandma was dying (faster than the rest of us), and everyone began to arrive, I fought off my feelings of possessiveness, thankful they’d all made it before she was gone.

I wanted very much to have more time alone with her, but knew it would be selfish to ask.

When I arrived on Tuesday morning the rest of the family was down the hall (Mom was re-explaining the progression of Grandma’s illness) and there were a couple of ladies from church in Grandma’s hospital room.

They would sing occasionally, but Grandma was no longer responsive.

I opened my guitar book on Grandma’s bed and played. I don’t know if she heard the quiet music, but I leaned over after I finished and said right in her ear, “You just heard my first recital, Grandma.”

She and Grandpa always worked to be at every game or concert we grandkids were in (even when Grandpa’s hearing totally abandoned him).

The being there was very important to them.

When I finished my music the other women left.

I was alone with Grandma again; something I never guessed could happen.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I believe now that the design of the hand at rest is just one more way God is gracious to us.

Sitting on the edge of Grandma’s hospital bed, I held her hand, and she was able to hold mine. Not because she tried– she couldn’t try anymore– but because a hand at rest closes into a shape that fits another hand.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I sang a song. I cried while I sang.

I felt the heaviness and the preciousness of the time.

We weren’t rushed. No one barged in on us. It was everything I didn’t know how to ask for.

When I finally just couldn’t sing anymore, I lay forward and rested my cheek on her boney shoulder.

And she pressed it into me.

She still knew me.

We had our last morning together.

The Three Spinners– a Tuesday Tale

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A queen, out riding, saw a woman beating her daughter.

The mother, ashamed to admit that her grown daughter was useless and lazy, improvised that the girl was so industrious that the wool of their small herd could not fulfill her mad desire to spin, and beating her was the only way to stop her from working

Clapping her hands the queen said, “This is just the sort of girl I would love to have in my service. And if she is truly as hard-working as you say, she may even do as a wife for my younger son. Diligent hands are dowry enough.”

Taking the girl with her at once, the queen brought her to a large room with prepared wool and a spinning wheel.

“If you live up to my expectations,” the queen told her, “I will be happy to have such a daughter-in-law. If you fail,” she shrugged, “you will receive the standard punishment for lying to royalty.”

Attempting to spin, the young woman found the small amount of yarn she managed to twist was bunched and uneven. She fell into tears, until she heard someone calling from outside.

Looking out she saw three ugly old women.

She explained her sorrow to them and admitted, “Now it seems I truly cannot spin to save my life.”

Smiling among themselves, the women urged her to bring them up, which she promptly did.

The first woman had an unnaturally large foot and sat, beginning to pump the treadle. The second woman, whose bottom lip was over large, wetted the wool, and the third woman, with a thumb more than twice natural size, twisted the thread.

The wool of the queen’s test was shortly transformed, and with grateful tears the young woman asked how she could repay the kindness.

They told her they would return on her wedding day and not to be ashamed of their appearance, but to introduce and honor them as aunts.

The girl promised to remember, and at her wedding feast she invited them to the high table.

Unable to stop staring at his new relatives, the prince asked each in turn how she had become so ugly. Upon hearing all three times it was the result of their labors, and evidence of their skill,

the prince declared, “Never again shall my beautiful bride sit and spin!”

And the new princess loved the three all the more.

Calling for submissions for the Carnival of Beauty– Provision

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Carnival of Beauty

Happy Monday everyone.

I have the privilege of hostessing this week’s edition of the Carnival of Beauty, dwelling on The Beauty of God’s Provision.

Many months ago my Grandmother died, and in the midst of that challenging time I saw God’s hand and provision again and again. I will be sharing part of that story on Wednesday.

There was no way that time could ever be described as good, but through God’s provision, it was as good as it could have been.

And I think that’s saying a lot.

If anyone has a story about God’s provision to share, or thoughts on the topic you would like me to include in the carnival, please let me know by Tuesday evening at 8p.m. (Alaska time).

ETA:

If you missed my deadline and still want to be included, feel free to send on your link and I’ll add it when I have time.

This is a topic I’d love to hear more people’s thoughts and experiences of.