Friday, June 21, 2013

Rhythms of Life- FMF

Today's prompt from LisaJo Baker is Rhythm. That word evokes a lot of music within my heart. I will write for just five minutes like the other ladies.

GO:
Rhythm and cadence and keeping time, marching. Step. Step. Step. Music flowing-with crescendos and rests.

The music of Life plays on.

Ten days past walking under bright sunny African skies and later listening from my bed the study pouring of


rain as the clouds are squeezed. Bright eyes and big smiles offering us hospitality and welcome. Round eyes dancing with glee as they play with balloons of every Crayola color. Two days of travel to arrive over the green, neatly manicured farms of Martinsburg, Pennsylvania. In this respect the Liberians are correct, I think: from here, America is second heaven.

""Mama!" and more welcoming hugs and kisses. Incessant chatter and the "finding "of our luggage tied with yellow ribbons on the return conveyor belt where only two other passengers await theirs as well.

Immediate planning for the birthday of the youngest-turning eleven. The event rivals the arrival of Princess Kate's new royal one. Two parties this year-one for Grandparents and another for friends, makes for a week of planning and preparing.

VBS craft leader-I can do that; I already have that tune memorized. And it is Friday ALREADY.

Next week I expect the tune to slow. I need a SELAH to take in the last month.

I am thankful for the kaleidoscope of rhythms.


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Friday, June 14, 2013

Listen

I say it every week with some incredulation (yes, if you write the words-you can even make some up to fit your purpose): It's Friday already.

Last Friday I sat in Liberian humidity, hair soaked from roots to ends as I typed the LOV post. This morning, I am being refreshed by the too-cool-for-mid-June morning air wafting through my kitchen window, wearing thick comfy socks and a robe on top of pajamas. So I did not literally melt in Africa, but there we many times that I was sure I would end up in a puddle to be drunk by the ever-thirsting terracotta earth. I feel like shouting-I survived Africa! ( :   

But honesty prompts me to confess that I DID have an air conditioner in my bedroom (though with continuously open windows and it not being turned on in the daytime, the room maintained the ever-moist atmosphere), a shower whose weak flow only gave out twice while my head was lathered with shampoo, electricity in the Guest House (albeit also went off at inopportune times), and access to the internet.

Those of you who know how high-maintenance this chic is, will have some appreciation of my trip-and I didn't even complain! except when I think about being smooshed in a United economy airplane seat with a toddler sitting behind me kicking my seat and wailing for a good part of the trans-Atlantic flight (who decides who has the right to the shared arm rest? The bigger elbow? After leaning seven hours to the right, I claimed  the left arm rest when the passenger beside me went to the lavatory by maintaining elbow position).

Yes, beyond all reason, I still put on make-up everyday, knowing that all but the waterproof mascara would be rubbed off by my sweat rag-a.k.a. wash cloth (which I was happy to learn that most everyone carries one with them, even to church, though at a "nicer" church that I visited, I noticed that most of the ladies used white handkerchiefs; I just used mine twenty times as much).

I did have ICE (yeah for filtered water!!!) and even ice cream in Africa. So I am thinking that I cannot sing a victorious survival song till I go into the interior-with no running water or electricity (does anyone know of a solar-generated fan? please let me know!). Next visit!

Now that I have shared THAT- Today I write with the ladies who visit LisaJo Baker's blog where this unique cookie-cutter gives us a ONE word prompt with which to bake up a theme recipe in five, flat minutes.

Today the prompt is LISTEN.
GO:
 

It takes three days for my auditorially-challenged ear to tune in enough to understand maybe fifty percent of the Liberian English dialect spoken with soft-leathery tones in sing-song cadence. My head becomes too quickly tired from making sense of the every five words that I do understand. English can be spoken in as many flavors as there are Ben & Jerry's icecream.

I listen. Till like a newborn who falls asleep when there brain is overloaded with stimuli, I relish the quiet breaks.



Women. Empowered women. Courageous women. Women with visions to make their home country a restored, healthy haven after the ravages of a fourteen-year civil war destroyed governments, homes, bodies, and hearts.       






I listen to how lives have been changed by the benevolent work of many. I hear their plead for more help as the need seems bottomless. Haven is the dream desire, but they will settle for clean water, every belly full, opportunity for every child to gain an education, a place where victims of thoughtless violence can receive counseling.


I listen and consider what ACTION I can now take with the words that I have heard.

STOP.
 

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Friday, June 7, 2013

Fall

Friday already! I have sooo much to write about our trip here in Liberia . . . but I cannot place it all into words right now. I wish that I could upload the pictures that I have on my phone. Please come back next week and visit LOV, by then I will be home.

So I am glad that I can participate in LisaJo Baker's writing prompt that she offers every Friday. We sit and just type the words that flow for five short minutes. Maybe I can give you just a tiny glimpse into the environment that we visited yesterday.

Today's prompt is FALL.
GO:
60,000, probably many more bodies in make shift homes of corrugated tin and cinder blocks-cinder blocks if you are doing well, jammed like sardines in less than a quarter square mile.

The women come to the office room to meet with the "whi-woma-" faces shining like ebony glass. The tape rolls on my phone and she explains life in West Point as the other women nod in agreement.

"Twenty girls a month come to see us. They have been raped. Some of the parents do not want them taken to the hospital" . . . because their offenders are friends and uncles of the family. The girls that do get taken to the hospital by these volunteering women are checked and tested for AIDS and other deadly diseases. They soon return receiving some counseling from the women at the Center, to return from whence they have come.

There exists no other alternative.

They have been made to fall- to feel the terror of victimization.

Right now I can only pray that they will discover that He can pick them up out of the ashes.

STOP.

Please pray for me as I prayerfully consider what manner my ministry can be of future hope to them.


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Friday, May 31, 2013

Imagine-

Well, I am writing another Friday. I'm not sure the links will work , but I am going to try to post anyway. The writing prompt for today is IMAGINE. Love that word; it contains the ocean and the sky and all of the stars that we see and cannot see.

GO:
Humidity that sticks like a bee to honey.
Showers that stop their flow mid-lather because the generator ran out.

Smiles of whiteness set in ebony cheeks.

Dirt, and dust, sweat.....oh the sweat, a towel sops it off my body.

Round brown eyes with a glass reflection looking into mine with
curiosity and wonder.

Rare feelings of feeling the minority-being the minority.

Horns, blasts, motorcycles driving fast.
"Welcome" and more "welcome"s-
Imagine-I am in Liberia.


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Friday, May 24, 2013

Our View


 It's Friday-Yay! And it is time to write with the ladies from Lisa Jo Baker's blog. I was hoping that today's prompt could/would help me stream line some thoughts floating in my mind about meeting the people in Liberia. I think this prompt should help: VIEW.

GO:

Female Genital Mutilation. We Westerners deem the act "Mutilation."  The practitioners of it call it "female circumcision" or "female genital cutting." One only has to be aware of the actual procedure to be convinced that it is mutilation. (There are four common procedures, and though a cut of the hood of the clitoris is one of them-closer to an actual circumcision-this form is the one most rarely performed.)

My view is that is that it is an unnecessary heinous act. But, as in all subjects, there are other points of view. I have studied why some women consider this procedure paramount to being a true, notable woman. I have spoken (in America) to victims whose family members had irreperable consequences becasue of it (death in one family). 

I have also learned that  my ways are not their cultural ways. When FGM is mentioned, they speak of colonialism-what we Americans learn about from yellowing pages in History class, then let the subject lie between the pages. They speak of imperialism and capitalism and consumerism as affecting their cultures. At first, I am stunned and confused about the relation of these all-encompassing subjects that I have only known the affluent benefits from. I didn't know their was another view, and therein lies my arrogant American view.

So when I arrive in Monrovia, Liberia, West Africa, Wednesday evening, I purpose to wear a view of humility that will listen and learn. I want to learn others' views that I may learn more of them. I will not push my view on them.

Is there some subject or situation that you are convinced that you are convinced is the correct view? Have you considered there may be another one?

To learn more of the history of Liberia refer to LOV's "Make a Difference" page.

To learn more about FGM visit the WHO page here.


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Friday, May 17, 2013

Sing Your Song


Have been hungering to write...but bills and getting my chidren's homeschool portfolios ready for their annual evaluations got in the way. But life-stuff always gets in the way and sometimes it's good, like yesterday, when my daughter covered me with hugs and noisy, "mmoiuu" kisses as I headed out the door. I drove north five hours through Pennsylvania's rounded mountain tops and along New York's Finger Lake (I do not know which one, but that did not keep me from inhaling its beauty) to Seneca Falls- I will visit the Women's National Park where the First Women's Convention was held. Thank Elizabeth Cady-Stanton and many other brave women for your right to vote Ladies. Later, I will be heading to spend some time with the Zackey family to discuss the Liberia trip.  To gain further understanding about the travesty that affects Liberia visit the "Make a Difference" page; the button on is the right side bar, scroll down and you will find some information about the Zackeys work.

Right NOW, I want to continue my good-habit of typing words with the ladies at Five Minute Fridays at Lisa-Jo Baker blog. We punch the keyboard for five too-short minutes, a stream-of-consciousness comes through and sometimes I, myself, am surprised at the thoguhts formed on this screen.

Today's propmt- SONG
GO:
We are always usually wishing for what we do not have, and as I include myself, I would say that I want to (be able) to sing! Actually, I do not think my voice is offensive to the ears, on the contrary, I would consider it averagely pleasant. BUT, my family and children are always telling me otherwise! "Mom! please don't sing!" Good for me that the Lord appreciates a joyful noise.

Improve Your Singing
Singing is not one of my gifts. I cannot change that. No amount of lessons or practice would make me into a singer-star. But I am thinking that there is something that I can direct: the SONG that I sing.

We all have songs. Some of us choose the whiny-song to which ears close. Others sing the song of martydom. There are songs of complaint, anger, frustration. After listening to those songs, I hear myself singing the same tune.

We choose our SONG. We can consciously choose to sing a song of joy, of gratitude, of hope-even if we don't fell like singing.

If we sing those songs, maybe our thoughts and emotions will rise to the words, and, maybe-just maybe, the world will sing with us.

I leave you with a beautiful rendition of one of my favorite songs-no, I am not singing it!
Enjoy-
http://clarrissegill.com/videoclips/amazing_grace.php

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Friday, May 10, 2013

Comfort those . . .


Writing today with the ladies linking at  Lisa-Jo Baker's blog. Her prompt is COMFORT.

What other word conjures up warm feelings of security, safeness, deep down joy and contentment?
A few of us privileged in this world experience true comfort-

But what about  the little boy with a runny nose that has no Mother to gently wipe it for him?
Or the little girl who just scraped her knee when playing jump rope and no one is there to kiss it?
I wonder where and how the orphans experience comfort, if they even know what comfort is?

What of the teen boys who have made a family of themselves, all packed into a 10' by10' room, sleeping without mattresses using each other's bodies for pillows?

Or the woman banished from her people because a stranger violently ravaged her body? She is lost and broken.

I wonder if I will meet some of these that are in so need of comfort. On May 29th, I will be traveling to Monrovia, Liberia. The plan is to visit several orphanages and interview women who have been victims of rape, Human trafficking, or undergone FGM. (If you do not know what that is or want to learn more, read here FGM .)

I ask myself what comfort I could possibly offer them? I only pray that I may lead them to the One Who is Comforter.

I covet your prayers for this trip-safety, wisdom, good connections, open doors, and comfort for the oppressed. Please consider marking your calendar-May 29th through June 11th-to be consciously praying. Thank you.

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Friday, May 3, 2013

Being Brave


It's Friday and I am linking up with the Ladies from Lisa-Jo Baker's blog. We like to write. And I like that I write just five minutes-stream of conscious-and I have a blog post. Otherwise . . .

Please forgive me for touting myself today, besides the glorious, long-awaited sun shining on the lilac blossoms ready-to-burst and the cool breeze floating through the window as I write stirring up all natural jubilation, I have something  else on my mind and it is sure to show itself as I write.

GO: BRAVE.
 
When the path is before you, but the way darkened, and the only step before you is the one illuminated- You must be BRAVE.

The act of bravery is a relationship: one of believing and one of acting upon.

Twenty months ago, I entered the college classroom. I was not "going back" to school, rather "going" to school. For twenty years I have been raising my wee ones, placing them on the path to adulthood, now I was about to step onto a diverging path. I was not sure if I could  make it through one semester. But with faith, grace, and a lot of  encouragement from family-and patience because of eating too many take-out meals, I am able to finish and earn a Bachelor of Arts degree in English, History, and Women's Studies. The theme of my LAS degree is "The Influence of Women Upon Culture." Fast and furious-sometimes my motto.

Graduation is tomorrow. Can you read my big smile?

Another path is before me-In four weeks I am traveling to Liberia, Africa. My actual goal is hazy; I just know that I want to spend time working in orphanages and will have the opportunity to interview women who have been victims of rape, H.T., and FGM. Honestly, though I have traveled internationally, I have never been to a country still feeling the destruction of a civil war that ended just ten years ago. And if one googles "Liberia," enough stories will appear to wreak havoc on your dream matter. But I feel compelled to go.
I believe it is part of  His plan and I am taking the step forward.
I am being brave.

All by grace,
Nicol
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Friday, April 26, 2013

FRIEND in my Journey


Joyful Spring! We have waited so long in the North for the warmth of fresh sunshine, I have to sing some praises.
Today's prompt from the Gypsy Mama--word of comfort--FRIEND.

You have been with me, by my side for twenty-four years, over half of our lives! 
Not always literally by my side, but there in kindred spirit and heart.
The giggles of single girls sharing beach stories, shared expectations 
before my wedding night, secrets that only each other could understand.

Conversations filled with confusion trying to make sense of a Christian
circle gone bad. "I guess this is Good-bye."
Serious, stern words hold my gaze, "It will never be good-bye for us."
 
 Tears of joy and tears of sorrow.
Weddings, births, loved one passing through the valley.

Parting geographic locations with saddened hearts.
You are the one I call when the skies are dark, 
when they weight of the world presses me to the ground.
You always have a story or song to sing that makes me LOL-laugh out loud, really.
-laughter that bellows from deep down in our insides--did I say "potty"?

Walking this earthy journey together-kindred hearts.
I am so glad that you are my FRIEND.
 
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Friday, April 19, 2013

Five-Minute Friday: Jump

Words popping up today like the tiny green shoots bursting through the bare soil. Good things are to come. 
I am making words JUMP today with the ladies from The Gypsy Mama. She gives the prompt and we see what green grows from our fingertips.

JUMP! GO:

When the road is dark taking the next step can be daunting. Wrong turns have been taken before. You know what it's like to feel lost.

The next step. Life beckons you forward: you have no choice. But feet are planted firmly in the path. Frozen, they will not move.

But you did find your way before when the wilderness engulfed you. He did take your hand and lead on the safe path. Your wrong turn was just  a momentary detour adding  twists and curls to the overall itinerary.

The way is before you-the end is not in sight. Light shines upon your feet and you can only see where to place your right foot.

Take courage. He will pick you up if you fall. And if you do turn to the left, His unfolding path will bend to meet ypu.

Breathe deep and JUMP.



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Friday, February 15, 2013

Beloved

Spilling out tumbling onto the keyboard for five brief minutes-just because we like to. Writing with the ladies at The Gypy Mama today. The prompt is Beloved.
GO.
Is there a word that conjures up more warm feelings than "beloved." It is an old-fashioned word. We usually do not look at our husband with dove eyes, sigh, and say, "You are my beloved." (Maybe we should?) 

The lover in Song of Solomon did. "He is my beloved and I am his." She lets her love, commitment, excitement spill out in song. (No, I especially cannot see myself--ever--singing of  my love to my husband.)
But we do have a Lover that songs over us. His joy in loving us fills, spills, and overflows into song over us. We are His Beloved.

Do you know that dear one? When life brings torment and friends are unfriendly, there is One who wants to scoop you up us in His arms, place kisses all over your face, and call you, "My Beloved."
But to receive what He has you must be-loved. Not lovable. He loves us in spite of all our quirks and faults. WE must receive His love. Believe. Accept.  Be loved, Beloved.

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Wednesday, February 13, 2013

We All Want Flowers


 Many of you will be receiving flowers tomorrow from the man in your life as a symbol of his love for you.

Many of you will not receive flowers -and will probably be pining that you didn't.   We are women.  We want our loved one to acknowledge US, to tell us that we matter to them.  We want pretty petals to look at, to remind us that we are loved.  Nothing says it more deeply than the velvety petals of the rose.

Do any of you watch the television show "The Middle?"  The episode this week showed the Heck couple dining out with friends.  A flower lady approached their table and asked each husband if he would like to buy a rose for the love of his life. The husbands of the two other couples purchased the lovely single rose and in handling the love token to their wives, received the crowds, "Aaaaahs."  Mike Heck simply continued his monologue and dismissed the flower lady with a "No, thank you."  Frankie (his wife) is left flowerless and grabs a bread stick to munch on while her two friends gaze at the velvety petals.  The next morning Mike is awakened by a very upset Frankie who berates him, "Why didn't you buy me a flower?"  He replies, "I thought we agreed that that is a scam and that flowers are a waste of money?"  "Yes,of course it is.  But I still wanted a rose!!"

Doesn't that speak for the woman in all of us?  I know for me it does.  Yes, Hallmark is making millions from the propaganda of your love.  So is the flower industry, and diamond.  We KNOW that it is propaganda.  But don't we still want the flowers?

How will YOU react if your hubby comes home empty handed Tuesday evening?

Can you get over your disappointment?

In twenty years of a marriage relationship, I would like to think that I have grown and learned something.  There have been a few Valentine's that I went flowerless.  I have been disappointed. I have cried.  I have yelled . . . And I have learned to not depend on my husband so much for fulfillment and happiness.  My husband will be away this Valentine's Day.  He is working 2,000 miles from our front door.  That speaks his love to me.  He will not be able to bring me flowers.  I knew that.  So when I saw this beautiful bouquet at Sam's Club -I bought them for myself.  And I love to see them open more each day.
The other day my daughters and I made cookies.  I tried out the new cookie mold I had bought for the purpose of making heart-shaped coolies for Valentine's Day.  Making my husband's favorite, chocolate chip, I filled the mold.  The cookie turned out perfectly.  I took a picture of the tasty treat with my phone and sent it to my husband with the message, "Here is your Valentine's gift.  I guess we will have to eat it for you."  I also sent him a picture of the flowers with the message, "Here are the flowers you bought me, thank you."

He replied, "Bon appetit.  And I hope that you like the flowers."

We both smiled inside.

It is freedom to know that I can buy myself flowers....and enjoy them.

Can you?

Have a Valentine's Day filled with joy and love.

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Friday, February 1, 2013

Not Afraid


I was looking forward to Friday morning as I wanted to participate in The Gypsy Mama's 5-minute writing prompt; I thought that it would be a great way to start writing again on the LOV blog.  I was expecting feel good word-prompts like "Tasty," "Fluffy," or "Light."  But today's prompt is AFRAID.  I am stumped.  Nothing comes to mind. Hmm...

OK- I will just stream-write, like we are supposed to do anyway....

AFRAID- Cancer is the first thing that comes to mind....I don't have it, but I could someday. But someday is not today. I will not worry about that.  I can be brave then should that ever occur.

But "afraid" is directly connected to worry isn't it?  We worry because we are afraid of something.

Honestly, I think my biggest worry is not living a lived-life.  I do not want to sound too existential this Friday, cold-Oh, it's February 1st today, yeah!!!-morning.  Really, though, I told myself many years ago, and I am not sure when or what led to this thought, that I never wanted to live a life of regrets-no regrets. I am afraid of doing that. So each day-consciously or not it functions in the weave of my soul now-I try to live.  To me that is sucking in the marrow of the moment, passing on a smile, telling my children that I love them out-of-the-blue. Not that  I get it right-I still yell in my car at really s-l-o-w drivers. 

But, I believe I am living the Master's path. And I am not afraid.
 



 
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Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Winter Sun


This is a re-post, but still gives encourages me....hope it will you.


I sat early morning meditating, praying, thinking on His majesty. Just then a brilliant beam of gold glow shone through the window over the top of the loveseat where I was sitting and targeted my eyes. I turned to the source to see the sun beaming horizontally toward me from over the crest of the mountains. It was as though He was saying, "Just as My eye is on the sparrow-understand, I SEE you." My prayers presently seemed to travel directly to the throne room. And yet not need to travel at all because He is here.

After writing this I look again outside. The golden glow is rising, now softening its brilliance to meld into the now lightened blue sky. These are the only colors of this wintry palette except for my husband's vintage red Ford truck, adding to the poetry of the scene. The trees, bushes, and houses are all a monochrome color of dark umbers. Everything is coated with fresh white, powdery snow which arrived for a visit last night. The sun beams reflect in a snowflake here and there like shiny crystals in a beach of sand.

It is calm.

It is peaceful.

The silent song resonates to my soul, "I am here watching over you." I eat of this spiritual manna.

I am full and content.
I am ready for this day.


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Wednesday, January 9, 2013

NEW Year


Happy NEW Year to you!
I pray that the coming months will hold Peace and Health for us all-
May the Lord make His face shine upon us.

     I have spent the last year and final half studying English, History, and Women's Studies at Penn State University.  In May 2013, I expect to finish, having earned a baccalaureate degree in Letters, Arts, and Sciences.  This will be the culmination of a four year degree earned in two.  So I think that you may understand my online absences.  (Though I have so wanted to share many of the things that I have been learning with you and open the  subjects up for discussion.)

     Besides these studies, I supervise three of my children studying at home, do bookkeeping for our business, and still endeavor to make our house a Home-a lovely place of comfort, filled with delicious smells of baked goods (the aroma of which comes often from a candle). I say all this, to remark that I do not want to neglect writing for long periods (again), but when I do write, the posts will probably be sporadic disclosures of thought rather than a planned series like I have wanted to do.  So, please bear with me, grab of mug of steaming tea and enjoy the LOV posts this year.  I am not sure what words will be weaved as the tapestry of 2013 unfolds, but I would like you to be part of it.
 
 
     Let's encourage one another and stir up good works that we might be Ladies of Virtue.

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Wednesday, July 25, 2012

A Woman You Should Know

        I have just completed a class at the University on the Holocaust-very powerful.  As part of my assignment I was to write and present a biography of a Holocaust survivor.  I chose Corrie ten Boom.    The story of her life and devotion to the Lord is one of the most remarkable that I have ever heard.
        I count Corrie ten Boom as one of the most remarkable women to have ever lived because of her childlike faith in Jesus and her tenacious spirit to grab the work that He had prepared for her before the foundation of the world.  Read a snippet of her story and please pursue the other resources that I have mentioned.  Her story will put perspective in your day, in your life.


                      "Happiness isn't' something that depends on our surroundings, Corrie.
                          It's something we make inside ourselves." - 'The Hiding Place'



The story of Corrie ten Boom cannot be told without speaking of the faith that ingrained her very being. A Christian faith that was tested in her mind, lived in her heart, and projected in her every action. The entire ten Boom family shared this faith, breathing and living in a circle of faith in Christ Jesus. They gave of themselves, even the sacrifice of their lives, because Christ gave his life for them.

Corrie’s home, affectionately called the Beje, for was first lived in by Willem ten Boom who had opened a clock shop, in 1837. Dedicated Christians, the family home above the shop was always a welcoming place for anyone in need. After an inspiring Dutch Reformed worship service in 1844, Willem started a weekly prayer service to pray for the “peace of Jerusalem” (Psalm 122:6). This loving dedication for the Jews was transferred to Casper ten Boom and his family. Casper with his family continued the tradition of this prayer. These meetings continued for over one hundred years until February 28, 1944.

The Germans invaded the Netherlands in 1942. Corrie was fifty years old. Now living in Nazi occupied Haarlem, the ten Booms lived out their Christian faith by keeping their home a refuge. Only this time, their home became a hiding place for Jews and members of the Dutch underground who were being hunted by the Nazis. The ten Booms hid, fed, and transported refugees. It is estimated that they helped save the lives of 800 Jews and numerous other underground workers. Every moment of every day, these courageous individuals chose to put their possessions and lives on the line.

Several years passed. On February 28, 1944, Casper ten Boom and his family were betrayed and the Nazi Gestapo burst into the Beje. Even after systematic searching, the Hiding Place was never located. The refugees were able to escape two days later by crawling on the roof tops. All of them, but one of the underground workers who died later in the war, were delivered to safety.

Corrie and her sister Betsie were taken into custody and transported by train to Ravensbruck concentration camp in Germany, fifty miles north of Berlin. After four endless days packed into dark, hot train cars without food or drink, they arrived. Corrie and Betsy experienced all of the hate and atrocities that were within the deaths camps. However, they also experienced God’s miraculous hand again and again. Upon entrance to the camp, all women had to lay aside all of their possessions, strip naked before a line of Nazi soldiers, followed by an icy shower, then redress into a given dress. Corrie saw that she must take an opportunity to smuggle her small bible and bottle of liquid vitamins with her. After a silent prayer, she asked the guard if she and Betsie could go the restroom. After being directed in to the shower room, they were told to use the drain holes. There she saw a line of moldy, benches infested with cockroaches sitting at the side. She wrapped her precious things in a sweater where she later retrieved them and placed them from a string around her neck. Still, the bulge was quite apparent and she continued to pray as she saw that each prisoner was getting frisked twice before they were allowed to leave the building. Miracuously, the woman in front of her was frisked three times and her sister behind her once, but Corrie was not!

The conditions at Ravensbruck were unfathomably difficult: back-breaking work, lack of food, constant weariness and sickness. Yet, as the torture grew, so did the love that Betsie showed. She would tell her bewildered sister, Corrie, “I feel so sorry for them” or “God forgive them”. It took a few moments for Corrie to realize that Betsie had been talking about their perpetrators. Corrie was learning, through the testament of her sister, the love of Christ. The sisters would pray daily and have services as well. Many ladies so emaciated in physical form but were filled as they ate vigorously of the Word.

Betsie had grown quite sick. Corrie attempted in vain to get any help for her sister. It was in this time that Betsie would vocalize a vision that she saw, a dream that seemed real to her. She told Corrie that she saw a beautiful huge home with very tall windows, inside were inlaid wooden floors and relief sculptures, on the outside were colorful gardens. This place was to be a place of healing where survivors of this tragedy would be welcome. She said that the horrible place of the concentration camp should be used in the same manner –a place of light. “There is not so much darkness in all of the world that God’s love is not deeper still. You must tell people what we have learned here Corrie.” Betsie said that they would both be free in the New Year.

She was right. In December of 1944, Betsie ten Boom left Ravensbruck to be at home with her Lord. A few days later, Corrie’s name was called by the guards. She had not been referred by her given name in years; she had become “Prisoner 66730.” Corrie was told that she would be released. She was given train passes, three days of ration cards, a fresh silk blouse, clean skirt, and incredibly the belongings she had left aside when she entered the camp: some Dutch money and her mother’s ring.

Corrie made it home to Haarlem and recuperated. She was greeted by her sister Nollie, Peter, and her brother Willhem who died soon after from developing spinal tuberculosis in a concentration camp. Her nephew Christiaan, who had been twenty-four when taken into custody, did not return.

Corrie had made it home safely but she no longer felt at home. Betsie’s proclamation burned in her heart. She needed to tell people about the forgiveness and love of Jesus. At age fifty-three Corrie began a worldwide ministry that would take her into more than sixty countries over the next thirty-two years. She would share her story with whomever would listen. She always said that in all of her travels the Germany people were the most desolate in need of love. It would be ten years after she left Ravensbruck, that she would return to learn that her release had been a clerical error and only one week after she had left, all women her age had been put to death.

The vision that Betsie saw did come to pass. A wealthy Dutch woman who had come to hear Corrie speak, told her afterward that she had three sons at home, one was still in the war. The Lord had told her that her son would indeed return home and as a “thank-you” she would give her home to Corrie for her use. It was a mansion with fifty-six room, wooden floors, picturesque statues, colorful gardens, and windows so tall that sunlight poured in. The home, Bloemendal, became a place of healing and rest, just as Betsie had spoken of.

Corrie has written many books about her life and faith. In the 1970s a movie was made of her book “The Hiding Place” with the help of Billy Graham.

Corrie ten Boom and her family were faithful advocates of God’s love. Corrie died on her 91st birthday, April 15, 1983. Corrie's passing occurred on her birthday. In the Jewish tradition, it is only very blessed people who are allowed the special privilege of dying on their birthday!


"There is no pit so dark that the love of Jesus cannot reach deaper still." -Corrie ten Boom



Sources:

Carlson, Carole C. Corrie ten Boom: Her Life, Her Faith. Fleming H. Revell Company. Old

      Tappan, New Jersey. 1983.


The Beje was converted into a museum.Their web site has a wondrful interactive tour of the home inside and out.

This is an interview with Corrie from 1974.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=038cuYe3Nis


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Wednesday, July 11, 2012

What was I Thinking?


What was I thinking?  I thought that I would only be away from LOV for a few weeks...but that has turned into over two months!  I miss you Ladies!

Can someone tell me how summer time can be more busy than the routine of the schoolyear?  I am taking summer college classes full time this summer, that is keeping me busy.  But I am making time to catch some sunshine in the swimming pool with the girls and to lick plenty of icecream! 

The last time I wrote I had just been preparing for a presentation on the Tudor-Stuart female...then I was heading off to London and Paris!  Thought that I would  show you some pictures.

This is me dressed for the presentation.
I felt like Queen Elizabeth for a moment.
 

This is some food-faire that I made from Olde English recipes.
It was surprising to me to learn
how many various spices went into their baked goods. 
The crackers below had allspice and nutmeg.


Yes, everything in this salad is edible!  Isn't it beautiful?

If you look at the derriere, you will notice the emphasis. 
Also, the wide expanse of hips was to emulate fertility of the female.  

 
 The Reformation that grabbu Martin Luthed ahold in western Europe
set the premise for a new way of thinking about the autonomy
of the individual.  Thank you Martin Luther.
 
This is a short excerpt from my paper, "The Female of EarlyModern England." 
Read and see if you recognize her in today's world.

. . . "The Virtuous Woman"

Above all things a female was to pursue virtue of character. The biblical precepts quoted in the marriage service and in the Homily were expanded into books for exhorting the behavior and etiquette of women. Authors such as Thomas Becon followed the teachings of St. Peter and St. Paul is stressing the subjection of wives to husbands. . . Gouge emphasized that the wife was “joint governor with her husband” over their children and servants, but she was to be subordinate to the husband and ruled others only as long as she was in submission to him (Eales 25).


The ideals for female behavior as purported in the advice books were passive: chastity, modesty, humility, sweetness simplicity, peaceableness, kindness, piety, temperance, beauty, sometimes learning, and always patience, charity, constancy, and obedience. “Between 1475 and 1640 approximately 170 different books in some 500 editions were specifically addressed to emales or dealt with subjects of direct concern to women, such as midwery, household recipes, and how-to-live guides (Hull 24).

And in conclusion . . .
 Some historians argue, understandably, that in the Early Modern Era, English females were (I repeat again) “mere housewives, secluded in their homes to protect their reputations for chastity, their sole useful function the production of heirs for their husbands’ family lineages” (Fairchild 3).  I argue that this thought is too narrow.  There were housewives who made a sustainable influence with their husbands, mothers who influenced their families, influenced their communities, influenced their country.  Whether housewife or reigning monarch, women were not “silent” in a society that sought not the voice of women.  Commanded to be submissive; yes, confined to strict boundaries of law and deportment; yes, pressed and thwarted in their life circumstance; perhaps, but suppsressed to the point of non-expression; no. The female of Early Modern England speaks in the voice of that culture, and thus she still speaks to us today. 
What are your thoughts?


Photobucket 

 To find the recipe for the crackers above and other tasty Olde English food go to-
http://www.godecookery.com/nboke/neweboke.htm

 Sources:
Eales, Jacqueline. Women in early Modern England: 1500-1700. London, UCL Press. 1998.
Fairchilds, Cissie. Women in Early Modern Europe, 1500-1700. Harlow, England: Pearson Education, 2007.
Hull, Suzanne W. Women According to Men: The World of Tudor-Stuart Women. London, UK: AltaMira Press, 1996.


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