Reading L'Abri

I was very naughty as a younger woman when Christian books were recommended to me. I avoided them and assumed they were boring and preachy. I preferred finding my own reading. So I'm late coming to Edith Schaeffer's L'Abri, and I'm sorry for it.

The story of their early years in Switzerland is exciting and engaging. They arrived in 1948, just after the war. By 1955 their ministry was going well, and then a blow came their way. They were told to leave their canton and leave Switzerland entirely, within six weeks, and not return for two years. The reason given? Their religious influence and speaking in the community.

I never realized the life of gutsy faith the Schaeffers lived. I knew he was a theologian, thinker, culture analyst, and defender of the faith. He did all this while mucking about in the irritating struggles of living as a Christian in a world increasingly antagonistic. In 1955! Thrown out of Switzerland!

Nobody but God could have prevented their ejection. Nobody but God could have woven the incredulous series of miracles that kept them there, that brought -- miraculously! -- a team of the right people into their lives in split-second timing. One time, Edith prayed to God regarding the house (the only possible house) they needed to buy, "Oh, please show us Thy will about this house tomorrow, and if we are to buy it, send us a sign that will be clear enough to convince Fran as well as me, send us one thousand dollars before ten o'clock tomorrow morning."

Uh, can you be a bit more specific, please?

Yeah, you guessed it. $1000 arrived in the next morning's mail, sent by a couple in the U.S. many days before. That's God's M.O.

Staying in Switzerland meant leaving their first location, finding an affordable house (among ski resorts!), securing it, paying for it (with missionary wages), and moving there in time. Avalanches and mud slides didn't help. Even when they moved into their new home, the trial wasn't over; their permit was not approved. Edith went next door to meet her new neighbors, two elderly ladies. They inquired why the Schaeffers were in Switzerland, and she related simply their ministry, and why they'd had to leave their previous village. The ladies were shocked. In Switzerland! Evicted for preaching! "We must tell our brother," they said. Edith smiled and returned home and only later discovered that the ladies' brother was ... the current president of Switzerland.

And I'm not kidding.

When the Schaeffers traveled to Berne, the capital, to the U.S. Consulate, they were discouraged from seeing the senior Consul. Finally his assistant agreed to allow them ten minutes. When they entered the man's office, they discovered he and Francis Schaeffer were classmates in high school and knew each other.

What are the chances?

And the stories of God's amazing work go on and on. It's stunning. If anyone doesn't believe in a real God who acts in people's lives in miraculous ways, such a person should read L'Abri. No wonder she wrote a book about it!

The effect of the great strain and anxiety and provision and miracles, was that the Schaeffers were overwhelmed with the wonder and joy of seeing God solve problems instead of solving them themselves. Instead of writing home and begging for money, or giving up and making a new plan elsewhere, they simply prayed, prayed, prayed, and waited.

So after this they changed their approach to their ministry. They withdrew from their mission board, from which they'd been receiving a monthly salary. They wanted to see God's miracles all the time, and they were willing to put Him to the test and see it happen. More than that, they wanted their children to see it happen, and they wanted the agnostic travelers who wandered into their home in alarming numbers to see it happen, every day. And it did. And it blossomed into a huge ministry called L'Abri.

I'm only half-way through the book, but I just had to share with you the great joy of reading it. Only people of great faith live as they did. Jesus called that great faith, "faith the size of a mustard seed." The tiniest faith is adequate, because God is big.

At a very low spot, right after the avalanches, Edith was reading her Bible for her daily devotions. She read this verse: "And it shall come to pass in the last days, that the mountain of the Lord's house shall be established in the top of the mountains, and shall be exalted above the hills; and all nations shall flow unto it. And many people shall go and say, 'Come ye, and let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob; and he will teach us of his ways, and we will walk in his paths.'" (Isa. 2:2)  God gave her that verse that day! A house in the mountains, a house where people would come and hear of God and His kingdom, His hope and good news for them -- that's exactly what the Schaeffers were working to make. At that moment, the name "L'Abri" came to Edith's mind. It means "shelter."

I've been reading L'Abri late into the evenings in my excitement to see what God will do next in their lives. I read the above passage on Saturday night. When I sat at the piano at church on Sunday morning and looked at the bulletin, I read the verses Adam had chosen for our Call to Worship yesterday.

Yeah, that's right.

Edith's verses. Isa. 2:2. Adam didn't know it. God planned that little coincidence. Adam and I have these "spiritual coincidences" in our lives all the time. We smile, shrug, and realize that God has simply said to us, "I'm here. I'm working. It's all good."

If you haven't read L'Abri, I do recommend it.

Hidden Art: Chapter Thirteen

Integration: The Ultimate Creativity

This chapter was unusual. After discussing everything from clothing design to home dramatics to flower arranging, Schaeffer turns to a deeper issue. If we want to create beauty, and communicate love in that creativity, what is the best creative work we can do?

And her answer is: integrate. Get together. Build relationships. She ends with this quote: "In this lies the possibility of beauty in human relationships, which in fact exceeds the beauty of anything else within the scope of our creativity."


Schaeffer wrote this book in the late 60s, publishing it in 1971. When she says integration, she means integration. But she seems irritated that the only type of integration the world is interested in is racial integration. There are so many other kinds of bringing-people-together-lovingly that need to be done!

Her biggest gripe, apparently, is how people divide themselves by age groups. I see this especially in the church, where you drop your baby off in the nursery, your children go to classes with other kids their ages, your husband goes to the men's class, and you traipse off to the ladies' class. Teens go to youth group. Ladies go on retreats. Kids do VBS. Old people go on day outings. The reasoning is that people will do better with people they understand ... people their own age.

And schools are of course constructed with this same notion.

And it's awful.

That's one of the many reasons I like homeschooling. As Schaeffer notes, the family is the first place where age integration occurs, and we should foster it and celebrate it! Amen!

The chapter begins with a discussion of heaven (or as I prefer to call it, the New Earth). This is described as a place of perfect integration of all people. No fussing, no fighting. Perfect acceptance. (Of course, it does help that nobody is a sinner!) Equal love and appreciation. Everyone is represented and valued. And I'll add my own view: that in spite of the uniformity that Schaeffer emphasizes, I believe we will retain our intense individualism and personalities there.

Joni Mitchell sang a song about Woodstock, that great hippie musical gathering of drug-induced euphoria in 1969. Two years before the publishing of Schaeffer's book.

Note: "peace and music"
Mitchell didn't get to attend the festival. She wrote a song about it instead, a haunting tune. Here are a few lyrics:

I came upon a child of God
He was walking along the road
And I asked him, "Where are you going?"
And this he told me...

I'm going on down to Yasgur's farm,
I'm gonna join in a rock and roll band.
I'm gonna camp out on the land.
I'm gonna get my soul free.

We are stardust,
Billion year old carbon,
We are golden,
Caught in the devil's bargain,
And we've got to get ourselves back to the garden.

And you see, even in a time of turmoil and rebellion, drugs and free sex, even pagans knew that they were trying to get to something holy, to set their souls free, to escape the devil. They want the perfection of Eden. Schaeffer's discussion of the New Earth and its perfect integration of all people is exactly what Mitchell was longing for. It's exactly what we're all longing for.


(Other posts on this chapter can be read at Cindy's Ordo Amoris blog.)

Hidden Art: Chapter Twelve

Clothing

What a strange topic for a "hidden art" chapter! I'm embarrassed to say my first thought was, "What's artistic about clothes?" Of course, that's silly. It's just that fashion is not my forte. I've struggled with this in the past few years. Are only shallow women interested in fashion? Isn't it a waste of time and money to focus on something so changeable, so futile, so ... worldly?

It's a case of "what I'm not interested in, is easy to criticize." Some fellow bloggy ladies have helped me to realize that I should take more interest in what I wear, dedicate at least a dozen brain cells to looking attractive, and not always buy things a size or two too big. Honestly, I have trouble yanking myself away from shopping at the local thrift store. After a few years of that, I find it nearly impossible to pay more than $2 for anything. Sheesh!

Two points from this chapter hit me:

#1 -- God compares how He clothes us, to wildflowers in a field. Remember that passage? So, our clothing should be beautiful. Colorful. Extremely varied. It should smell delightful. It should have lovely texture. It's the emphasis on color and variety that got me -- you mean I need to expand beyond my wardrobe of black, gray, and a splash of white? I need to realize that variety is intrinsic to beauty?

#2 -- Dress appropriately for where God has planted you for ministry. For us, it's a very casual coastal town. The first time Adam met his church elder to go visiting people, the elder looked at Adam's khaki pants and said, "Pastor, you're over-dressed." In Pamlico County (and particularly Oriental) shorts are the name-of-the-game. I no longer own a dress. I rarely wear my skirts. Casual attire is what helps you "fit in." As a pastor's wife, I have a fine line to walk. Do I wear tank tops? Yes, but they have to be modest. Lots of ladies here wear the tiny-strap tanks without bras. Mini-shorts. Mini-skirts. It's for me to decide where "fitting in" must bow to a sense of modesty.

And then there's the two ever-looming obstacles to my clothing situation:  Money and Size. I don't have the funds to do much shopping. (Which is nice, because I don't much like shopping.) But the dislike of shopping is probably related to the fact that I'm large, and (for those who don't know this) shopping is depressing for large women. It just is. It seems that variety is celebrated ... as long as it's a size 14 and under.

Tonight I'm going to town to shop for a mid-summer, on-sale bathing suit. Bathing suit shopping is something I attempt each year. Successful bathing suit shopping (in which a suit is actually purchased) occurs only once every few years. This must be the year because my suits are worn out and I'm down to the Last One. I'm doing water aerobics three times weekly, and it's only a matter of time before the elastic in this last suit cries "UNCLE!!!" When I lived in the mountains, I really didn't need a bathing suit. Now that I'm on the coast, with beaches and pools and friends who want me to swim ... having a couple of good swim suits is also part of fitting in.

A few of the suits at JC Penney online that caught my eye --

Clothing! Will we be shed of it on the New Earth? Is clothing only a by-product of Adam's and Eve's sin? Is it merely utilitarian? If clothing is also beautiful, creative, lovely, appealing ... then I think we'll dress ourselves on the New Earth, if only because we enjoy it.

(Other posts on this chapter can be found at Cindy's Ordo Amoris blog.)

Hidden Art: Chapter 11

Or ... "Advice from the Back-to-Nature Crowd"

Edith Schaeffer might not be termed a "greenie," but she spends much time in this chapter encouraging us to just get outside. And that's better advice now than in 1971! If she thought we were isolated from Nature forty-two years ago, what are we now?? If humans tend to want "something between themselves and the earth" back then, we're certainly worse  in 2013.

And this is precisely the subtle difference between my childhood and children's lives today. We were outside if we weren't in school. The universal thinking was that children should be outside playing. If we were bored, "go outside."  The assumption was that children simply cannot be bored if they're outside. Why is that? Because the Great Outdoors is an infinitely interesting, varied, challenging, fun place to be!

Schaeffer says that being outside produces creativity; it fosters creative thinking. I know that my writing (poetry and stories) are often spurred by sights in Nature. When I was younger, I was often outside, especially in my teens and early twenties. I loved to walk in the woods, the mountains, to bike long ways, to sit in the sand at night and hear the thundering ocean. I was often chased inside by intense Southern heat or mosquitoes, but the advent of autumn would lure me back out.

We live in a stunningly gorgeous place with huge water vistas and great boating opportunities. Our little village of 850 people is a bike-rider's paradise. The water breezes keep us a bit cooler than other Southern locales. I'm thankful to be outside more again.

But ... since Schaeffer's books was written, computers, the internet, and cell phones have taken over our lives. Our children are growing up in a radically different world than we did. They have games on their phones that imitate outdoor activity. They can play tennis, golf, surf, and other outdoor activities ... on a Wii. How can boring old Nature compete with that?

I think Nature does. It's the relaxation Schaeffer refers to. What is "recreation"? Is it not behaviors that stimulate us to re - create, to create again, to give new life to ideas, art, words, music, elegance? In essence, we want to experience something beautiful and then re-make it, re-form it. The beauty found in Nature is true. There is no beauty found in a Wii game that imitates it. Playing a computer game is not recreation because it spawns no new beauty; it does not inspire.

Schaeffer's description of her "Treasure Hunt Meals" was delightful, wasn't it? I did a few things like that when the kids were little. Writing limericks, hiding Easter baskets, doing scavenger hunts. Children love to scrutinize puzzles and find hidden objects and ideas. Again, computers mimic this, but the mind needs the body to be involved as well, in order for the whole person to mature.

After Julia bought her little tablet computer, we set limits on her screen time. I noticed that even when she "turned in" her tablet to me, she'd then drift to the T.V., or sit by her dad and try to watch his iPad with him. Her brain became used to screen stimulation, it was difficult for her to find fulfillment elsewhere. This summer I've had to keep a tight grip on her screen time, forcing her to find other things -- reading, drawing, or going outside. It's difficult when the outdoors is very hot and very humid. I don't want to go out there; why should she?

There are seasons in life for all things. I realized years ago that summer in the South was rather like winter in the North:  the weather forces you to stay inside and simply wait and endure. If you're going to play in water (pool/river/lake/ocean), then you can go outside. (Rather like snow sports in Northern winters) The best time of year to be outside in the Deep South, to do serious yard work and take long hikes and sit on the porch? That's winter. Maybe three weeks in January are actually "cold" but otherwise, a Southern winter is ideal sweater/jacket weather.

So I don't feel guilty staying inside in the summer. I'll be outside come autumn! I'm planning even more outdoor activities with Julia for homeschooling -- drives, beach combing, nature walks, kite flying, and boating. October, here I come!

Julia, sailing last fall

The town-wide bicycle ride on Thanksgiving Day morning

A very happy me, sailing on January 1st -- bundled up but enjoying it!

The other posts on this chapter from Hidden Art can be found at Ordo Amoris, Cindy's blog.

Hidden Art: Chapter Ten

"Drama"

I must admit, this chapter brought many happy memories. At first I thought, "Drama??? Drama!!! Bah ... humbug!" Or something like that :) Me? Act?  I last did real drama (of a sort) in college. I did a One Act of The Rainmaker, as a dinner theater.  It rattled my nerves so much I never did drama again.

But Schaeffer's chapter quickly moves from acting on a stage to something much more familiar:  reading aloud. I'd never thought of that as acting.

And as I thought about it, there's quite a bit of reading aloud in my life. I had a tradition in college of reading aloud George MacDonald's haunting short story, "The Grey Wolf" to any roommate I had. I loved doing it! When our children were little, I read to them often. We worked our way through the whole set of the Dr. Seuss books, and those weren't even our favorites. I did encourage the kids to do a little light "acting," just for me at home. I recall a rousing version of "Little Red Riding Hood." Anna was Red, Peter was the Wolf (of course), and Philip was the life-saving Woodsman. I think Julia was his assistant.

We plowed our way through all the Little House books, and all of the Narnia books. As the children aged we read aloud less, but Julia still asks for it. She and I read Little Women aloud last fall. And whenever I write something new, it must be read aloud to her! I wrote Three Against the Dark for Anna and Peter, one chapter at a time, and would read each chapter to them as it was written. "What happens next, Mommy?" they'd ask.  "Write the next chapter now!!" They were the motivation that finished that book! I read Greenfield Civil Wars to Julia, and she liked "Hotel Sagistal" and just yesterday I read "On Styron Shoals" to her. I tell her she can access all this on her tablet computer, but she doesn't want to read it there. She wants me to read it to her.

It's the human voice. We love to hear its inflection, the emotion and intrigue that another person can lend to a tale. It's much more vivid that the story living silent in one's own mind. And although Schaeffer doesn't mention it, many people learn better by hearing than by seeing, so being read to is crucial to their acquisition of information, even if just for enjoyment.

One thing I love about our church is that we read aloud. We have a corporate (all-together) Call to Worship with a Response from the congregation. We read the Apostles' Creed together. When we sing, we're also reading the text together. Adam reads the sermon scripture to us, aloud. And one of us, each week, stands at the front and reads another long passage aloud to everyone. We just finished reading Hebrews this way together, and now we've begun Galatians. Isn't that wonderful? It takes only a few minutes, and all of us (we're a small, tight-knit group) are reading the same beautiful Words of God, at the same time.

Is that Drama? Acting? No, I don't think so.  But it's a great example of what Schaeffer calls the "hidden art" that resides in each of us, and how important it is to share it with others, with the Body of Christ especially.

(Click over to Cindy's Ordo Amoris blog to read all the posts on this chapter in Hidden Art.)

Hidden Art: Chapter Nine

Writing

It's fascinating and funny that a group of bloggers are reading and writing about this chapter. Edith Schaeffer calls writing -- whether letter, note, diary, family history, or prayer list -- a hidden art.

We're all writers, we who blog. We have lots to say, and we're happy for the world to read it. So perhaps we're all satisfying the demands of this chapter of the book better than any other chapter! Every one of us can say confidently, "I'm doing this!"

I'm so glad that the online world exists for writers. In Edith's day, writers felt the crushing burden of PUBLICATION. If you wrote and were rejected by the publishing houses or magazines, you were a Failure. What a crock! I personally think Edith would cheer for the blog writers of the world! Hooray for those who put pen to paper (or finger to key) and send a message out into the wide world!

A few friendly quotes from this chapter:

"Writing is certainly a medium for communication, 

as all art forms are."

(This is the big idea, the one she's said repeatedly. I need it drilled into my head.  

Art Is Communication.)

"Writing for enjoyment of expression ... does not need an audience of more than one."

When writing to someone who doesn't understand your mind, 

"accept the challenge of making your ideas clear to that one."

On writing letters to close friends/family upon a momentous occasion like marriage, 

"at such a time ... a letter is the perfect medium, and can be kept and read over and over."

"There are only a few such important or crisis days in one's life, only a few such 'endings' to one section of life and beginnings to a new one .... It is important for people to communicate their thoughts ... in such a way as to build a bridge over the 'break' ... rather than leave a misty gap of unsure hurts and undefined emotion." (Yes -- so true!)

"After all, God has communicated with us in writing." 

This fact has fascinated me for years and has validated for me the act of writing. Of all possible methods He could create for communicating with us, the dominant method God chose was

Writing.

This truth ennobles every word we write with care, clarity, and love. It also invites us to write to God in return. He can be your audience of one, if you long to write but fear for anyone else to read it.

Read it to God.

He wrote to you.

I'm reminded of Elizabeth Barrett Browning's Sonnets from the Portugeuse.  She'd written an assortment of sonnets about her love for Robert, and one day when walking together she slipped the little papers into his pocket. A simple, private communication. She did not want them published, but he recognized their quality and wanted them shared with the world. 

Many things foisted upon the reading world are not fit for ink. And many words of great beauty and excellence are nearly lost, or truly lost, to humanity. Still, Edith says, "Write!"  And "Write now!" I would add one more word:  "Write a poem!" Just for yourself, just a few lines, or a hundred. It may be exquisite or awful, but please write a poem. We are losing poetry in our world. Once it was a treasured, elevated mode of communication, but it's fallen on hard times. Keep poetry alive! In that vein, I'll post below a poem I wrote yesterday. The idea is a good one, but the poem itself is not good. But Edith says, "Write" and "Communicate!" so here goes:

I’d prefer to die while walking on the beach.

Past the castle-builders who battle the crumble and tide,

Past the lounging burners of skins,

Past the mighty fishermen under whose taut lines I dip.

Past even the farthest shell collector

And the introverts who eschew humans.

I walk, seeking the narrow, firm strand

Between dry seaweed tangled in old plastic

And sinking sand among the jellyfish.

I stumble farther, choosing shells, just a few.

I hold them gingerly in my palm and rinse them in a little wave.

I walk until I see people no more, until the sun floats on the water.

Weary and sad,  at last I turn –

And I am on a New Earth.

I’m dumbstruck, and stand, and stare.

Is it this easy? I ask.

Lord, have I been afraid of this?

I walk back into eternity as the sun rises.

Hidden Art: Chapter Eight

It's Wednesday and I'm late with this post. I've been putting it off because the topic is FOOD. And that's a problematic issue in our family's life.

Adam and I are fat; we just are. We're overweight, obese, portly, plump, call it what you will. We've had a problematic relationship with food. Adam would say he's committed the sin of gluttony much of his life. How does one turn sin into "hidden art"?

Does one have to be slim and eat like a bird before one can discover the hidden art in food? I don't know. I know Adam had a huge wake up call two weeks ago about his health, and he has a radically changed regimen now. His caloric intake, his portion sizes, his snacking ... it's all diminished profoundly. He's excited. He's gonna be thin, he says! I may lose some weight in a support role - haha!

But here's the rub: when you have to count every calorie that goes in your mouth and weigh out your portions with a scale and enter it all in an app on your iPad ... how in the world can that be hidden art?

We're a family that's into this:

chocolate iced coffee

 and this ...

We like our food, if you didn't notice :)
Many of Schaeffer's recommendations are already part of our weekly lives:  market fresh food, home baked bread, homemade soups and jams, and this past week Adam made his first batch of pickles! We have to avoid making cakes and pies. And we do eat our leftovers every day. We don't waste; we eat economically because we must. Adam makes the evening meals and he puts love, thought, and imagination into what he serves us. We invite friends over to share our food, and enjoy communication with our children at the table every evening. I think we do a good job following Schaeffer's advice in chapter eight.

But it's made us obese.

Adam discovered that his problem with food is this: he likes the taste. He wanted that taste over and over. He ate large portions and had seconds because he wanted more experience of whatever taste he was enjoying. It is kind of a insatiable greed for pleasures of flavor. Now he is trying to get lots of flavor in his food still, in each bite, using lower calorie foods and much smaller portions.

It would help to live at a place like L'Abri with hundreds of people to feed. A good cook could enjoy baking pies and cakes every day and be sure others would gobble them up! As Adam says, a cook needs eaters!! I'm sure Edith had many mouths to feed and got lots of exercise simply by the work she did every day, serving everyone.

I'm sorry to say that our joyful appreciation of food has led to health problems and even sin. Schaeffer doesn't discuss this aspect of food. (I wish she did.) But here's to hoping we can lose weight, be healthy, and still find the joy and beauty in food!

Read more posts about chapter eight over at Ordo Amoris.

Julia Draws Again, Plus a Tangent ...

I've been happy to see Julia sketching again. It was prompted by her purchase of a new book in town, Elantris by Brandon Sanderson.

She loves this book ... except the cover. She thought it was just another boring "enchanted, sci-fi thriller" cover. Bleh. So she made her own cover. She worked on it for two days.

She wanted a cover that truly reflected the tone of the book. I haven't read it, so I don't know. She was very pleased with the pen drawing. I like it too. I forget how good she is until I see drawings by other people (namely, myself) and I remember she has a gift. She has the picture in her mind. When I take pencil in hand over blank paper, I find myself at a loss for what to do. I never get perspective, nor proportion.

Here's Mr. Sanderson's usual cover. It's not shabby or cheesy -- just not good enough for Julia's current favorite book!

On an unrelated note, and harking back to the Hidden Art discussion of table settings and general table beauty, here's a random photo of our dining table a few days ago, untidied. I mean, it's not so horrid that you can't see the tablecloth. But much detritus lies there.

I gathered all the Things That Ought Not Be On The Table, in one place. Ugh. Then I promptly sent them packing! "Children! Come get your STUFF!!"

Confession time: I have yet to make a new centerpiece for the table. (Shame on me.) We have a Lazy Susan in the center, with all manner of "table necessities" on it, and a Yankee Candle (with a matching glass shade) in the middle (which I never light, of course). Perhaps worse than no centerpiece is having an old tired centerpiece that you never use or notice. The candle is no longer a communication of beauty because it's unnoticed. It's unnoticed because it's not special. Which makes me wonder:  If we had a Tiffany vase spilling with perfect red roses there every day, would one simple daisy communicate more love to my family, merely because it was a change from the norm of decadent beauty? I don't know. If the goal is to communicate caring and love, and the family doesn't really receive (i.e., notice) the communication, is it still worth it? I asked this question back in Hidden Art chapter one. Is beauty for its own sake, or for the purpose of communicating to someone else?

Hidden Art: Chapter Seven

Flower arranging. Not my forte! I like it when friends give me an arrangement, as happened on Saturday.

I once stuck some fall leaves under a potted plant. Does that count? I suppose so!

This arrangement came home with my parents from a banquet once. Stolen arrangements count too.

And why not a single rose? It's simple, but elegant. Perhaps its simplicity draws one's attention to it more.

I believe Edith Schaeffer wanted to drive home the point that it's not really about flower arranging. It's about letting your family know that you care for them. You go past the necessities of merely putting food on the table. You feed the soul as well. You serve up beauty on a single "dish" in the center of the table, from which all eat and drink and are satisfied.

Schaeffer seemed nearly desperate that women understand this truth. She refers to the Dutch, for whom "fresh cut flowers are generally considered a necessity" (98). She quotes a friend: "If you have two loaves of bread, sell one and buy a lily!" (99). Our goal in bringing beauty inside is to ensure our home "is really a home ... and not a collection of furniture sitting in some sort of enclosure" (99). We all know homes like that; they feel dead. Schaeffer is worried that "the art of living together, of being a family, is being lost" (101). Just as we long to conserve the earth and be good stewards of it, we must practice "the conservation of family life" before it becomes extinct (101).

My problem with flower arrangements is the cutting of the flowers. You have to kill them to bring them inside in a vase. I don't like killing flowers. I much prefer them outside, alive on their stalks with their little toes in the soil, happy until their last breath. Is that weird? So I don't cut flowers; I leave them outside. This makes flower arranging problematic - haha!!!

Flower arranging is like ice sculpture; it's such a temporary beauty. You cut them, trim them, arrange them, place them around the home, knowing that they'll fade and need replacing in a few days. Other beauties -- a watercolor finished, a musical piece learned -- can become joys for a lifetime. A flower arrangement is a memory. It says: even temporary beauty is extremely important, so important that you should sell your extra loaf of bread (tomorrow's meal), to have a piece of beauty today.

One "arranging" I recognized was the breakfast tray. We do trays in our house! Often when the boys were little, Adam trained them to be loving husbands-to-be, by letting them prepare a breakfast tray for me to have in bed. It always had a little vase with a flower. But the entire tray was the beauty -- its "presentation." I hope that practice sank deeply into their hearts because it is a winning thing to bring to your woman in the morning!

Adam recently brought me breakfast in bed, sans the flowers. I like strawberries more!

Our table is a mess. Somehow, it is a dumping ground for keys, books, glasses, dishes, papers, tools, and all manner of paraphernalia. It's difficult to keep it pretty. Sometimes I wonder if it matters to my family at all. I seem to push against their chaos, and they seem ever to push back. Would they notice anything of beauty I placed there?

Schaeffer tells me, "Please try something in this area today. The only way to start, is to start."  Well, tomorrow. It's almost time for bed now.

(Read other posts about this chapter from Hidden Art at Ordo Amoris with Cindy.)

Hidden Art: Chapter Six

"Studying the intellectual and philosophical answers to the questions of life and the Bible is more meaningful when undertaken in a situation involving such activities as digging, planting, weeding, picking, caring for chickens, sawing wood, making shelves and furniture, cooking, sewing, painting walls, and so on."   ~ p. 93

What did she just say?
Basically this:  doing "hidden art" stuff helps you understand spiritual truths.

Schaeffer notes repeatedly that gardening (this chapter's emphasis) is satisfying and fulfilling and thrilling and therapeutic.  Those are all nice. She even says it's healing. (86)

But at the end of the chapter she makes a good argument that working in the soil with plants, bugs, seeds, and weeds broadens our understanding of spiritual truths. God uses many gardening/farming metaphors in Scripture to help us understand deep truths -- like how we must die to be resurrected, as a seed does. Or how sin encroaches in the soul and chokes out the spiritual life, like a weed or vine. I believe farmers have a better natural understanding of life and death, and the ramifications of both, better than we regular folks.

My brother and sister-in-law have a farm. They grows lots of blueberries, among other things.

They have many animals that depend on them, and on whom they depend.

This photo is only their garden plot. Serious gardeners they are! They keep beef cattle, a milk cow, and have about 3000 blueberry bushes, plus raspberries, asparagus, and other crops. Add chickens and sheep to that.

They live very closely with life and death, day in, day out, year in, year out. And I've said before that their farm is, to me, the most lovely place on earth. It's ART. For them it's hard work. To my eyes, it's art. They take huge risks, life on the knife-edge of ruin, trust in little plants and seeds ... to produce this complicated ART, as Schaeffer calls it.

We must always remember that God placed humans initially in a garden, a "paradise" (the king's garden, literally). We are created, Schaeffer says, to interact with the soil, the plants, the animals, to find our place in the garden.  On a farm, the beauty of Eden, and the sadness of the fall into death, are juxtaposed so closely. People who live in big cities with concrete, plastic and metal tend to divorce their lives from both Eden, and daily death.

Seeing Eden each morning, and seeing death each day -- these things remind us of our place, our humanity, and who God is. A farm is the best place for this.

(Read more bloggers' views of this chapter of Schaeffer's book at Ordo Amoris.)

Hidden Art: Chapter Five

I know, I know. I supposedly already did this chapter. But like the other ladies reading this book, I found this chapter worthy of more thought. Especially Amy in Peru --  I found her second post on this chapter propelled me into new thinking. (Other posts at Ordo Amoris)

Edith Schaeffer knew, as we know, that our real home is in heaven. Why then did she write a whole book focusing on our temporary, earthly homes? And this chapter, "Interior Decoration," seems especially shallow. Isn't it rather futile to place little pieces of personal decoration in a hotel room, for goodness sakes? How important is it to personalize one's college dorm room? Yeah, it's fun. But important? Necessary? Godly?

Here's a question: how does your home's interior decoration demonstrate the Christian ideals of your family?

Amy asked this question in her post. She wondered whether our homes show love, lavishness, or laziness. (Ouch!)

That got me thinking. What do we want visitors to see, spiritually, in our homes?
* That we love each other. Do we have photos of each other, children's art, trophies of others' accomplishments, birthday cards -- what other items in our homes say, "I love my family member"?

* That we don't indulge in greed or self-gratification. Do our homes shout, "I must entertain myself!"? Do we have screens, Wiis, electronic chargers, DVDs, lying around our living space constantly? Are our homes full of high-priced items that show we place our value (and our money) in pricey possessions? Is there any indication in our homes that we instead put our value (and our money) into serving others?

* That we love God's Word. Could anyone coming in my home tell that I read the Bible often? That I want to remind my children of His Word? Do I have frig magnets, cross-stitch, or posters with Scripture on them? Is His Word reflected in the music we play and enjoy in our homes?

*That we aren't lazy. Our homes should be tidy, demonstrate thrift and care. Excess dirt or clutter demonstrates a lack of work to make our homes honoring to God and welcoming to others. Waste should also be avoided, as it shows a disregard for God's provision.

*That we are hospitable. Homes should be welcoming to visitors, with space to talk and enjoy company. If a visitor comes to a home and there's nowhere comfortable to sit and talk, that home does not feel hospitable. There should be tasty food, always something to drink, friendly children and pets that don't make visitors feel uncomfortable. If you love your pet more than you love your human visitor, your home might not feel hospitable either.

These are just a few thoughts. The Schaeffers clearly did their very best with little money -- almost no money, at first! How I enjoyed her stories of making leather furniture that lasted for years, or the tale of the rocking horse they made. What fun! What enriching of their marriage! I feel more challenged than before to make the most of our small rental duplex, and to enjoy it. Right now, I think the vacuum cleaner is calling my name!

The Homemaker

This isn't a post about Schaeffer's book, The Hidden Art of Homemaking, although it's certainly related. (I changed my mind. This is about Schaeffer's Chapter 5.)  It's about how hard it is to go without a home.

our home in Statesville

Or maybe this is about Schaeffer's fifth chapter ("Interior Decoration"). She asserts that you can make a lovely, satisfying home wherever you live, even if you find yourself in a back room in a boarding house, or living in a hotel room. "Bloom where you're planted!" she seems to say.

I struggle with that. I long for a home that belongs to me. God knows this longing. I suspect He knows it's an inordinately strong and motivating longing for me. So my home-ownership history is a troubled one. We've owned bought attempted to buy three houses in 24 years. We've never succeeded in staying in them long, which was our goal. We made money on the first house's sale, but had to part with it immediately to pay a debt. We lost $500 when we sold the second house, after carrying the mortgage for a year. And the third house, the one pictured above? Foreclosed. Yes, we're one of more than 14 million home foreclosures in the U.S. between 2008 and 2011.

I know how hard it is to be a homemaker.

Reading recently in II Samuel and I Chronicles I found comfort in David's dilemma. He'd just moved to Jerusalem and built himself a whopping big mansion with the help of another monarch who gave him cedar wood and lent him carpenters and stonemasons. David had a huge family, with room for them all.

The Lady Banks rosebush at my Statesville house that I miss quite a lot

And then David felt guilty. He had a mansion to live in, while God had only a tent. Imagine David on a stormy night, sitting snug in his home while the rain and gusts and lightning pound outside. He's worrying about that Ark, sitting under tent flaps, getting wet. David thinks, "I'm gonna fix this situation!"

And his motives are good. He asks Nathan the prophet, and Nathan agrees. "Go, do all that is in your mind, for the LORD is with you."  But they're both wrong.

God has His own plan, of course. He doesn't need David to build Him a house. And it's not just that somebody else has been picked to built it.  It's that David has the whole concept wrong. David is not the home-maker;  God is the home-maker. Always has been, always will be.

God says to David: (paraphrase) "Have I ever had a house? Did I ask for a house? Do I need a house?" (answers: no, no, no) He reminds David, however, of other facts:  "I will also appoint a place (a home) for my people Israel and will plant them, that they may live in their own place ...." And "The LORD also declares to you that the LORD will make a house for you." Of David's son, God says "He shall build a house for My name ...." and "I will be a father to him and he will be a son to me." And to David He promises, "And your house and your kingdom shall endure before Me forever ...." (II Sam. 7)

David learns some humbling lessons here. In his prayer he says to God, "For Thou, O LORD of hosts, the God of Israel, has made a revelation to Thy servant saying, 'I will build you a house': therefore Thy servant has found courage to pray this prayer to Thee .... Now therefore, may it please Thee to bless the house of Thy servant, that it may continue forever before Thee."

David learns two things: 1) God is the house-builder, the home-maker, and 2) a house isn't really a boxy thing made of semi-permament materials. It's a family. David realizes that his family, his kingly line (leading to Jesus!), is the real home.

We can't buy another home anytime soon, because of the foreclosure. I'm almost 50 years old and wondering if we'll ever own a home to live in when we're too old to work. What will happen then? God says, "I am the home-maker, Mary Kathryn. Stop worrying about it." I have friends my age who started buying their homes 25 years ago, and they own their homes free and clear. They've put down deep roots, planted trees and gardens, redone rooms and added porches. Sadly though, some of them have no children, or no longer have a marriage. I'm reminded that it's the relationships that matter. And although "interior decoration" is important for women (and I love home-making!), the real interior that needs help is the interior of my heart. And like David, I need reminding that it's my husband and children who really constitute home.

(I'm linking up to Cindy at Ordo Amoris for this post relating to homemaking.)

Hidden Art: Chapter Four

This chapter pricked a nerve with me. I'm that person who has a modicum of artistic talent but has never done anything with it. I come from an artistic family. My oldest brother is quite talented. I'm certain I could have done more, or at least done something, with my little gift. With training, I might have acquired a little skill. As it is, I'm an ineffectual dabbler.

There's something about creativity. You feel like you're making something alive. First there's a blank paper. Then you draw or paint. And suddenly something exists that didn't exist before. This is why I can't throw out any of Julia's artwork. Each one is like a little child.

When I write a poem, it feels even more like a birth. Blogging is also creative; each post is a new creation. When I play a luscious piece of music, it's like opening a box where the music lives, and letting it out into the air for a bit, watching it swim around the room, enter our minds and hearts, and then recede into its box again until the next time it's played.

Schaeffer says that it is "crushing" to be doing uncreative work that you dislike, day in and day out, "while your art is lying buried!" (48). Buried. Yes -- it's a death image. And using your art, even in the smallest, most unskilled way, is like giving life to it. Pulling it out of yourself, looking at it, smiling at its little beauty, and letting it breathe.

Schaeffer gives many reasons why even the smallest drawing/painting/sculpting is valuable:
1. It enriches the lives of the artist and of those who view it.
2. The artist finds it enjoyable; it produces joy.
3. The artist's imagination is stimulated to produce further work. Art spawns art.
4. It fosters human relationship between the artist and the viewer, especially when it's hand-done and personal.
5. Art softens communication and can add humor to it. (Think of the facebook smiley face!)
6. If you don't create the art, it is lost, unfulfilled.
7. It can improve times of depression or dullness.
8. Art can express love and care for someone.

She gives a few ideas of how to incorporate simple art into family life:
1. Make place cards for each place at the dining table when you have company. Or make then just for your family -- this is fun. Get your kids to make them!
2. Make birthday cards or other cards by hand instead of buying them. We've also made our own wrapping paper for gifts.
3. When making lists (grocery, to do, etc.) use some nice art paper, and make the list pretty and perhaps add little flourishes or sketches on the side.
4. When writing letters, add small sketches or little watercolors to enhance and illustrate them. My mother had an artist friend who did this, and it made her personal letters so very precious to read. They were delightful!

Schaeffer illustrated her husband's sermons for her grandchildren as they sat together through church. These are simple stick figure drawings with text, but they made the message come alive for the children. She mentions that the sermon illustrations (which are really cute!) help the children remember the messages. I can't help thinking that, now that she is dead, they must be even more precious to her grandchildren. They can look at those simple pictures and not only remember the gospel, but remember their grandma's thinking, her convictions, her love for them, her devotion to their spiritual welfare -- how rich this is!

Schaeffer is right and I feel convicted. I enjoy sketching and particularly watercoloring. I've bought all the supplies. I simply need motivation to do it, to not procrastinate and assume I'll paint someday. Each time we feel the impetus to be creative and we suppress the urge, we're burying our gifts, our creativity, our God-image. Let it out!

One of Julia's last watercolor pieces this semester
 

(This post is part of a group book study over at Cindy's Ordo Amoris blog. Read more there about this chapter in Schaeffer's book, from many bloggers.

Some Of Us Never Left the Kitchen

Even though she's a little loony, I do read Penelope Trunk's blog. Occasionally she has a post so revolting I can't finish it, but that's only happened twice so far. She gave two links today that I found interesting:

The Retro Wife -- This article from New York Magazine discusses how young moms these days are choosing to stay home, and loving it. The mom in the article is a self-avowed flaming liberal, but she adores her husband, lives totally for her two pre-school children, and advocates that women have careers they can walk away from.

Disclaimer: When online articles are forever long, I don't usually read them to the end. I read the first page, unless they get too verbose and repeat themselves. Then I stop. Just sayin'.

Is Michael Pollan a Sexist Pig? -- This was fascinating. I disagree with a lot of the article (duh), but still found it so interesting. The writer seems to assume that being a back-to-nature, slow food, chicken-raising woman means you must be a progressive liberal who fled an urban life. Not so! I cannot count the number of conservative, Christian friends I have who are also lock-stock-and-barrel into this movement. They're environmentally sensitive without buying into climate change. They were homeschooling for decades before the progressives decided the public schools weren't meeting their kids' needs. They were canning tomatoes twenty years ago. But I digress. Like the other article, this one states boldly something that would make a dead feminist churn in her grave: women can find a fulfilling, satisfying life at home, doing domestic things. Shocking!

Ha. Those of you reading Edith Schaeffer's The Hidden Art of Homemaking (published in 1971) know that this is yawn-inducing old news to conservative Christian types. Still, we're very happy that other women are discovering it. Schaeffer takes what these article writers hint at, to a deeper level. She doesn't just call it fulfilling; she calls it ART. And it doesn't just make you feel satisfied; it's of spiritual value, eternal value.

There you go.

Regardless of how you arrive at it, the destination is fine -- the home is a comfortable place to be, and when a woman is in charge of her home, she's in charge of her world. And isn't that what the feminists were wanting in the first place?

Heehee. Did you just hear me say that? "A woman is in charge of her world."  If any of you believe that any of us puny humans can ever truly be in charge of our worlds, please let me know how you did it. I'd like to know! Perhaps what happened with feminism (The first article says it's fizzled.) is that it simply discovered the truth:  whether in the home, in academia, in the office, in the military, or in the street, women cannot be in charge of their lives anymore than men can. Life happens. What matters is how you behave when you realize at last that you're not in charge.

But read the articles, or at least part of them. Especially if you only watch Fox news -- stretch yourself a little. Not because you'll radically change your views, but because it's really useful for living in this world to know how and why other people hold their views. It reminds us all that we are all humans, and of incredible value.

Hidden Art: Chapter Three

Music 

I love that Schaeffer chooses MUSIC as the first specific art to discuss. My, what a large tool bag she draws from, when she recommends musical activities for our enrichment!
1. You can be a prodigy, or perhaps just proficient, on an instrument.
2. But if you're not, you can just play an instrument at home, for fun.
3. If you're really awful, you can still listen to music in your home.
4. And you can appreciate music, and discuss music, and attend concerts, whether  at Carnegie Hall or your local middle school.
5. You can even collect musical paraphernalia in your home, in an effort to bring this particular form of beauty into your life, and your family's life.

Goodness! No one is exempt! Music should be found in every home, every life.

At least three times Schaeffer reminds us that music brings RELAXATION. Music is fulfilling, satisfying, fun, sharing, expressive, freeing, it allows you to 'let off steam.'

You may play a cello or you may tap on a water glass; it's all the same to her -- the important thing is to participate.

In my life, music has always played a large, important role. I've sung and played the piano extensively since childhood. My college degree was in piano, but later i pursued literature as a teaching career. Music was relegated to a pastime, but a rather engrossing one. I usually end up playing the piano in some context in churches we attend, and I usually sing solos at some level. Playing the piano in front of people does scare me; often it nearly paralyses me. In order to offer this talent to God in His worship, I have to control the fear, pray, and then play anyway.

Singing is the opposite. I'm really not much afraid, even if I'm singing in front of hundreds of people. It's harder now that I'm older. I have less opportunity to work out my voice (like an athlete would keep his body in trim), so it's not as dependable as it was. But less than 10 years ago my voice was at its very best. I had a huge range, good air support, smooth tone. I miss those days. The time to use our talents comes, and then it passes. We must let it pass and not grieve.

Schaeffer touches on this too. "There is a place for the conscious sacrifice of the expression of a talent, asking God to show His will for the use of our lives in any way He plans ..." (42). She tells about a woman, a gifted opera singer, who felt called to leave her beloved career and serve at L'Abri. She gave up the bigger exercise of her musical gift in order to serve in other ways.

Sacrifices like these do not go unnoticed by God. It is a hard obedience. He knows we have buried our own aspirations in obedience to Him. "The 'grain of wheat' was really in the ground" (42), Schaeffer says. This is a metaphor used by Elisabeth Elliot also -- the burying of something, the relinquishing, so that it may later sprout and come up again, living, in a new form, as God sees fit.

There will be time, on God's New Earth -- endless time for music, for running and good health, for travel and matchless beauty unscarred by fallenness. Nothing we sacrifice here is really lost forever. The return of all good things to us in the New Creation is just another aspect of God's endless redemption of all things.

Here is the most beautiful piece of music I know:

An Extra Thought on Hidden Art ...

"The ordinary arts we practice everyday at home are of more importance to the soul than their simplicity might suggest."

~ Thomas Moore

I snatched this quote from Susan Branch's blog this morning.  She doesn't allow pinning on her blog posts, so I'm pinning from here. She writes about baking a delicious blueberry angelfood cake and gives the recipe, so pop over and write that one down, and enjoy her delightful art work.

And ruminate on the truth of that quote from Mr. Moore. It's exactly what Edith Schaeffer has been saying. What we do everyday in our homes is Art. It is deceptively simple. But it is important and nourishing for our souls and the souls of others who enter our homes, particularly our families.

Do you want adult children with rich, well-nourished souls? Feed them the arts of your home, every day.

Hidden Art: Chapter Two

Chapter Two: What Is Hidden Art? 
(Cindy at Ordo Amoris is hosting this book study.)

 Art needs to come out of hiding.

Schaeffer says art is hidden because it's found in the small parts of life, in the mundane, if you will. We're so familiar with it we don't think it's art at all. "Every person ... has some talent which is unfulfilled in some 'hidden area' of his being ..." (31).

I have a weird relationship with Schaeffer's book. I know my mother loved this book, and I got the impression many years ago that it was somewhat life-altering for her. My mother loves art, loves artists, and loves beauty. But she's not an artist herself; she doesn't paint, knit, crochet, sew, play an instrument, or do any of the usual artistic things. She's had a lovely voice in years past. But generally speaking, no one would consider her an artist.

Except Edith Schaeffer, that is.

My mother has stayed home, making a home, all her married life. She said recently that although her friends often have larger, more expensive homes than hers, she knows of no other home she'd rather be in. It's full of old furniture, some of it broken. Used rugs she bought at thrift stores. Rusted this and dented that. But she loves it all. And she has spent a lifetime turning her home into a beautiful, welcoming, warm place. Everyone feels it who comes there.

My mother has the gift of hospitality, she's an excellent cook, and she's a genius at flower arranging.

My parents always welcome friends and strangers in their front door.

My mother's hands have made hundreds of loaves of wheat bread.

This is a little arrangement she put together quickly for a tea honoring Anna at a friend's home.

I think my mother took Edith Schaeffer's words to heart and practiced them for decades. I wonder -- did she read the book, look around her, and ask: "What can I do to make life beautiful for those who come here?" She gardened, and then gardened more. She grew flowers and arranged them for her home, and then for church. Beauty became for her a regular discipline, a daily evaluation of how to make her home pleasant.

Schaeffer: "We should look for expressions of artistry, and be sensitive to beauty, response to what has been created for our appreciation." And, "A Christian should show in some practical area ... a growing creativity and sensitivity to beauty, rather than in a gradual drying up of creativity, and a blindness to ugliness" (32, 33).

My mother has a deep, abiding aversion to ugliness in all forms. She abhors the ugliness of sin and debauchery in culture. She's not a snob, and she's seen her share of darkness. But she chooses the beautiful, always. I think Schaeffer is saying that, in choosing to love beauty, we are being creative -- just the choice is a creative act. It is a constant battle, in our day, to choose beauty, to choose goodness. The pull is ever downward to degradation, to slovenliness. My mother can take a broken tea cup and make a treasure. She can take a few weeds and wildflowers and make a display. She can take other women's cast-offs and make an outfit. All these are redemptive acts. Having expensive, flashy possessions is not really creative. Taking something simple, mundane, common -- and finding beauty in it? That's creative. That's my mother.