The Week

I'm a bit baffled what to write these days. Back when we all started blogging year ago, spilling your thoughts and opinions for everyone to read was heady business. These days I doubt whether social media conversations are profitable, and whether self-revelation online is wise. If you hear less from me it's because I'm pondering this.

So I'll tell you what I did this past week, if I can  remember. Memory is an issue these days!

Last Monday we had rehearsal for the Pamlico Community Chorus spring concert (which occurred last night). We discovered our director was hospitalized, and much shuffling and gnashing of teeth ensued as we figured out how to make the concert work. I think I did some sewing that day.

flax-seed-filled comfy pouches

Tuesday evening we had Bible study and dropped off some chicken to a friend who'd had surgery. I think I also did yard work on Monday and Tuesday also, and started making some ointment. And I mailed off some watercolor cards.

I like animals snoozing with curtains billowing.

Wednesday I got to stay home. By this time I was practicing piano a lot; I accompanied half the concert, and the Broadway pieces are big, bangy, and tricky.  I think I packaged a batch of soap that day too.

Thursday I went to Prayer Shawl and then taught a piano lesson. Adam and I ran errands. We all know how that can develop into an afternoon excursion. More piano practicing. More ointment making. Perhaps I made insect-repellent lotion bars that day too?

"Green Goo" - wonderful healing ointment

By Friday I was nervous about the concert. Dress rehearsal that evening.

On Friday I made this little video:

It's not easy keeping life together!
I did tidy my studio that day and finished all my soap-business products. Dress rehearsal was long.

Saturday morning Adam and I went to the farmer's market in Oriental. It was the town's annual yard sale day, and folks were up early, sorting through each other's cast-offs. But I had a very profitable day: $190 in sales. $30 of that was plants from the greenhouse! This time of year I sell every insect-repellent lotion bar I make, each week.

We rested all afternoon. I practiced again and began vocalizing -- I had a solo also. It's a fun, lively song called "He Never Failed Me Yet," a gospel spiritual by Robert Ray. I've sung it before, and this time I directed it too. But my voice was tired and refused to cooperate while vocalizing. The choir likes me to end the piece -- the last note with them -- on a high B-flat. I didn't think my voice would agree to that last night. But when the moment came and their smiling faces looked at me expectantly, I sang it. We had lots of fun.

I swiped this photo and the one above from a facebook friend.

After the concert I was very tired, and after church today Adam and I both turned down our engines to "idle" and will try to go a little slower. While I was doing all this, this week, he was mowing and weeding the entire garden, plus his usual pastoral and preaching tasks, plus cooking, plus working hard to start up his own podcast. (That's another subject I'll tell you about later.) 

About 7:00 today I took this video as I strolled back across the pasture from the garden:

Peace.
We all long for peace.
Jesus promises peace, but it's not the kind we're used to seeing in the world, and not the way we normally see people trying to get peace. That's a mystery I have yet to unravel. I may not understand yet what Jesus's peace is like, or how to get it, but I know what the world's peace looks like, and I know it doesn't work. I can see that from the people I know who try to find peace on their own. What's the old joke we used to tell?  If you try to get away for a few days from the stress of your life, the only problem is that you take it with you, because YOU go along!? My lack of peace is within me. Only an inner change can bring peace.

As Adam preached this morning, a little phrase from I Corinthians 13 caught my mind: "Love does not insist on its own way." This is one way the world (well, perhaps I should call it by its proper name: Social Media) tells me I can have peace -- by having my own way. By rejecting the people around me that don't add to my happiness. By demanding everyone adjust to my stress level. By insisting all behaviors comply to my standards. By saying with confidence, "Folks, it's my way or the highway!"

No peace is found that way, only loneliness and a nagging feeling of discontent. I think Jesus was most peaceful after He'd struggled in the garden, hating the task before him, longing to escape it, but in the end bowing to the will of God, to the plan. I think peace like that must be found in some sort of acceptance and compliance with a divine plan that we can't always make sense of.

Adam made a small bed just for my plantain.

See? That was a rambly post, and got preachy at the end. Sorry. I hope you all have a lovely week! See you later.

Windy April and Much More Lindbergh

April has blown by, and it's taken me right along with it. Such weather! A few days ago it was 90 degrees. Today is very chilly, jacket weather, overcast but still breezy.

Oriental dragon card!

I've been too busy. If I were 35, this wouldn't even be enough to keep me occupied, but I'm not 35 anymore. I'm 55, and I can't do as much. Mostly, my legs hurt -- I have bad veins. But enough of that whining!

The garden is still a mess, but things are coming along. Adam has to do the heavy work, and he can only do that on warm sunny days when his lungs (asthma) are willing to cooperate. Quite a bit has been done -- beds dug, potatoes in, mowing and weed-eating, planting and transplanting -- but there's always more to be done.

basil, for the farmer's market

I promised a final talk on Anne Morrow Lindbergh's diaries from 1936-1939, The Flower and the Nettle. I most enjoyed the section when they were living on the tiny island (really a rocky shoal) of Illiec in Brittany. I didn't enjoy reading the sections when they flew together, nor when they were visiting other countries. Increasingly the diaries concerned the looming war and how the Lindberghs responded to its coming. This was fascinating.

When we think of World War II and Hitler, our minds go directly to the Holocaust and the plight of the Jews. At the time however, anti-Semitism was common and many Americans and Europeans either didn't care much, or weren't aware of Hitler's plan to eradicate the Jews. Reading Lindbergh, one must patch together from little bits of her thoughts the understanding she had of this time. Here's how I read her:

1. Germany was treated badly after the first World War. They were reduced in land, put in a straight-jacket as punishment.
2. Hitler wanted more land for each German, and by "German" he meant those of his Master Race -- a North European/Aryan people. His Germans were dispersed a bit, living in other countries. I thought (from high school history class) that Hitler's goal was to overpower other nations. From Lindbergh's writing I'd say he wanted to separate out his Germans from the rabble (other races) among which they were living, gather the Germans together, and have enough land for each German -- "lebensraum" or living space. This sounds crazy to us now, but it was real then.


3. Germany had limited access to shipping on the North Sea. She was hemmed in, her location making her dependent on the goodwill of others for trade and prosperity. Hitler's desire was to have more land, and to rid his population of the races and people groups whom he deemed inferior, leaving a larger Germany for only his Aryan race.

Lindbergh doesn't talk much about it, but I was puzzled that she seems aware of this ideology but doesn't challenge or disparage it. She's a thinking, well-educated woman of only 80 years ago. Hitler's treatment of the Jews in the 1930's did offend her, but the thinking behind his actions -- his enthusiasm for eugenics (viewing humans as breeding stock and controlling that breeding), the separation of intellectuals and human "desirables" from the other undesirables, the roles assigned to these upper-crust intellectuals and their lower, common servants -- she seems in absolute support of this thinking. She lives it out every day.

Lindbergh repeatedly (and I mean on every other page) describes people's physical traits, emphasizing their faces and physiques, strength, intellect -- the brilliance in their eyes and their conversation. She tests people's dinner party conversations to determine their intelligence. As a wealthy, famous woman, when she describes the workers and servants around her, she seems to take them for granted and see them as utilitarian. In evaluating people groups, she respects Germans most because of their intellectual superiority and raw courage, and dislikes Russians most because of their vulgarity and drunken laziness. She leans toward generalizations like these, although she states them in more nuanced and elegant terms.

Here are some quotes, usually from highly-intellectual dinner parties:

* "We also talk politics. We come down to the conclusion that eugenics, birth control, etc., is the only thing that can save our civilization -- but no one can suggest how it can be brought about." (485)
* "Prince Kinsky ... said he was afraid that the English Empire could not stand another war; it would break to pieces, and that would be a great loss to civilization and to the white race (with the underlying thesis that we must look at the world in terms of races and of civilizations now, not merely in terms of nations) .... But the last part of the evening [at a dinner party in Germany] was spent in listening to a terrific blast of anti-Jewish propaganda. I had never had it quite so strongly before from an intelligent person. I was depressed. He had no use for them at all. Said they were 'creepers,' parasites, and could not be used even by our civilization and recommended expelling them all to Madagascar. I listened shocked, open-mouthed, offering arguments here and there as best I could." (431/432)
* "A nice talk with Silvia Monnet about women's struggle to choose between husband and children." (427)
Of course, one of the primary points of women's rights and women's independence, even in the 1930's, was access to birth control. Here we find a sore dilemma. Eugenicists wanted birth control (often sterilization) for the under-classes. They wanted less breeding of the lower races and more breeding from the intellectual classes. But women's rights groups wanted birth control access for wealthy women, educated woman, professional women who want to work and choose freedom in their lives. 
* "I feel I have wasted the winter, not learned French, not written anything, not started a child (which is the cause of my real gloom)." (552) In spite of her support of birth control, Anne clearly wants to be part of that upper-class breeding stock who contribute more population to the world. She's had 3 babies, will have 3 more, and her husband will father an additional 7 children with 3 other women. They believed in expanding the upper-class population.
* Father Chardin, a Jesuit priest, comes for dinner. "From talking of old races we went on to talk of new, the modern problems of race. And it was marvelous to hear him talk from that point of view, as though it were all history we were looking back on. He says race is not all physical but a very subtle complicated mixture of physical, mental, moral, cultural elements. Nevertheless it is a very real and precious thing and to be jealously guarded; and that the emphasis must be on race in the modern world. He regretted that Hitler should attack the problem wrongly. He should not go back, turn the eyes backward to try to fine a 'pure' race, physically, which is impossible in the first place and undesirable in the second (because that is a purely physical definition). One should rather look forward, keep one's eye on race, yes, but on a broader conception of race, a synthesis of the best in many ways, physical, mental, spiritual, cultural .... I felt so relieved to hear someone argue without passion, clearly, objectively, wisely .... But I felt better for knowing his mind is in the world." (514)

In the early 20th century, the scientific/intellectual world was excited about DNA, about genetics. Eugenics seemed a noble goal, especially to the elite. It seems horrifying now to listen to this woman, a loving mother and wife, a gifted writer, speak this way about race. When a lover of eugenics says "a synthesis of the best" regarding the races, she means a calculated breeding of individuals to produce the best possible humans -- elite, superior humans who could best rule the rest of the humans and assess which humans can be best utilized in which roles. Such curtailing of individual rights and freedoms is repulsive to us now. But it was not a rare view at the time, only 80 years ago. She published this diary in the mid-1970's, only 40 years ago, and did not remove these portions in her editing. Was she unashamed to show she had held these views? (For more reading about Hitler's breeding program, read this.)

The end of this book takes us right up to the gateway of war, April 20, 1939. Charles Lindbergh has already been recalled to the U.S., and Anne follows with the two children on an ocean liner. They no longer feel safe, even in France, even on their beloved Illiec. Her world is falling apart. She must return to her home country, where her baby was murdered, where the press and general public hound them at every turn. They have no privacy except inside a gated family compound. They cannot enjoy eating at a restaurant or strolling through a park, as they do in France. She returns to the U.S. reluctantly and decides too late that of all Europeans, the French are her favorite, and France her favorite place to live. 

In spite of her disappointing views on race (which constitute a small portion of the diaries) I found myself fascinated by this nervous, insecure, sometimes petty, introverted woman who has such unsatisfied longings. Knowing her future a bit, I see the crushing disappointments coming her way. So I jumped over to Abebooks and ordered her next diary, War Within and Without, Diaries from 1939-1944. What will she say as Germany crashes and burns and its sins against minorities spread out for the world to see? Will she change her views on race and eugenics? I'll let you know!

Adam's Birthday

We celebrated Adam's birthday this week with a day off from other responsibilities. We took the ferry to Morehead and Beaufort.

I chose a new restaurant, Pita Plate. It's rated #1 in Morehead with TripAdvisor.

 I enjoyed the cushions on the wall-side of our booth.

 We were the first ones there.
Absolutely delicious gyro!

 We each ordered hot tea. Mine was cardomom. Adam's was white refreshing tea, which we discovered was orange blossom tea with some lemon. It was fabulous.

We finished our lunch with a cupcake.

Then we drove to Beaufort, where we've been quite often, to check out a little hotel/B-and-B for future reference. It's the Inlet Inn. We used to go for overnight breaks at B-and-B's about once yearly, but it's difficult now with the dogs and chickens. The Inlet Inn is very reasonable, and only 36 rooms, so it has a more personal touch.

Then we drove back to Lowe's to shop for perennial plants for the yard.
Coreopsis. Phlox. Dianthus. Verbena.

 Caladium for the shade bed

 4 Lantanas to replace the ones that died

 The only annuals are marigolds for the tire beds on either side of the driveway -- a burst of color.

I found a large lavender (Munstead, I think) that had fallen and burst its pot, and had no label. It was greatly reduced. I have 4 lavender plants now, raised high in huge tire beds in the veggie garden. I have high hopes they might survive! I've had such rotten luck with lavender here.

Adam said he preferred me to paint a birthday card. So I painted Beau snoozing on the back of the couch, his favorite place.

 You don't get to read the rest of the card :)
But this afternoon when Adam was gone to New Bern, Beau took up his usual spot when Adam is gone. 

Staring at the back door. 

Waiting for his favorite person to return. 

A nervous wreck. 

You can tell by the ears in the air!

Busy Bees in April

Adam and I have been so busy with so many distracting activities and responsibilities lately. I should take a hint from my dear friend Henny Penny and mostly post pretty flowers, haha! Everyone loves flower posts in spring.

 (I'll sneak in a couple of flower cards ...)

These are Spanish Blue Bells.

 Lady Banks Rose. I'm insanely happy with it.

Tomorrow is Easter, and that also requires a lot of a pastor and his wife. He's preaching and I'm singing a solo at the sunrise service by the river. We'll do both again at 11:00 at our church. My mother has been a little ill. We're beginning to tweak our travel plans when our daughter has her baby. And we have a college daughter soon to be home for a bit. I have a chorale concert coming up. Adam has blood drives. Bible studies, get-togethers, parties, music events. It's a constant, joyful treadmill of duties. I still have not finished Anne Lindbergh's diary. I need for God to turn my Life Dial from "racing" to "slow" for about a month!

I'll end with chickens. They spend their days sitting in the apple tree and pecking for bugs, when they're not snoozing away in a laying box pretending to lay eggs. What a life!

Chatting with Myself

Do you talk to yourself? I do, always have. I feel comfortable with myself. I don't feel alone because I find myself fair company. That's not to say that I'm not often dissatisfied with myself too. Just that there's a constant, running conversation in my head -- the inner voice. I remember being surprised to find that not everyone has this feeling.

This is complicated when I'm reading a book, especially a diary or autobiography as I am now in Anne Lindbergh's The Flower and the Nettle. When reading a book like this, someone else's inner voice contributes continually to the conversation.

I'm nearing the end now and often ponder what to share here with you about the book. What quotes to share, what concepts to address from the turbulent days she was living, what personal struggles of hers to talk of. She was a private woman and loathed any public attention, which attention persecuted them for years -- think of the paparazzi's pursuit of the royal family, except with ordinary people untrained to handle it.

If I had to summarize what seems her primary struggle, it's finding any kind of workable balance between the home life she loves and the public life she feels obligated to. In 1938 her husband Charles traveled to various countries at their request to examine their aviation programs. It was impossible to separate this task from war preparations. Anne cannot seem to keep herself from traveling with him, leaving their baby boys at home with a nurse. 

On August 5 she writes:
"I decide to go with Charles. I hate to leave the children, especially Jon, right now. And I don't want much to go to Russia, but feel I must. It is part of the European picture. Charles must know it and I must go so we can talk it over together."

Anne later, with her three youngest children

And the next day:
"Why do I go? Why do I keep my eye on that white speck [Charles, walking away from the house] as far as I can see it? ... I must go, I must be part of Charles's life. I must go even though I am afraid to go."

They travel by plane, which Charles pilots as she sits behind. They don't come back home until Sept. 10. On Sept. 20 they leave again, for London. Political events keep them there longer than expected. She writes:
"... today I am desperately tired and like a fighting animal inside wanting to get back to the children. Each delay seems unbearable. it takes so much energy to be patient that I can do nothing else all day. I am worn out by the struggle" (419).

And again, "A nice talk with Silvia Monnet about women's struggle to choose between husband and children. We are both, however, very tired from train trips" (427) The photo below shows how far she went to enter her husband's world.

Her inner voice, struggling with itself inside the privacy of her diary, rattles around in my head during the day. It's hard to hear her political questions, knowing how history will disappoint her. It's hard to hear her adoring devotion to Charles, knowing how their marriage will turn out. It's hard to hear her desperate love of Illiec, the private, rocky island on France's coast with a single house that they bought in 1938, knowing they will leave in December and never return. I want to reach into the pages of her diary, gently shake her by the shoulders, and say, "No, no, Anne. Don't go there. Don't think that." Now I want to read all her diaries, but they're so very long, and I have other reading on my list.

Adam and I met a 22 year old girl recently who had given up her cell phone and computer. We are convinced that, in spite of the criticism of today's youth regarding social media addiction, the older generations are just as bad - so many are also glued to their smart phones. I admire anyone willing to put aside technology and turn their eyes to green trees and blue sky and real faces. I wonder if more young people will do this -- seems unlikely. I'm tempted! I'm not on my phone much; the screen is too small. And I'm neither blogging nor facebooking as much as before. Technology and social media connections don't seem to contribute to the peaceful, slow life that I want. I've let many things distract me from the life I actually want, from the relationships that endure. Like Anne, we're all torn by obligations, and during early motherhood we're particularly bad at choosing.

When I finish Anne's book, perhaps I'll share more. I do recommend it if you find it, as I did, in the free bin at the thrift store. Her voice is worth knowing.

A Break in the Busy

 It's very blustery today.

We had a wedding at our church.

Adam made the cake.

 I did the flowers in the sanctuary. 
I don't have my mother's gift of arranging.
Mine have a "plopped-in-the-vase" look.
Lady Banks Rose, white irises, carnations.

 It's azalea time now. I pulled over on the road to take this picture.

 Last Thursday I went to a tea seminar in Oriental for ladies. A Tea Master instructed us all about the benefits of tea.

 Before that I was at Prayer Shawl in the morning. A lady brought us a container of fabulously delicious morsels as a thank-you. We could not identify what they were. An accompanying sauce seemed curry-ish.

 And one nice evening Adam made salads:

 I'm still painting a little, but life has gotten busy, and I have lots of cards. So I've slowed down.

Adam is preparing his potato bed today and putting in white potatoes. Lots of mowing to do too, with the rain and sunshine coming down and yelling at everything, "Time to grow!"