I added this book to THE LIST. If it made Camille cry . . .

Have you seen Flickr’s Bookshelf Project?

Cindy Swanson lists thirteen of her favorite books. I’ll forgive her a couple of books on her list that I don’t care for too much because the others on the list are so good. Any lover of Narnia is a friend of mine.

Joan at Daddy’s Roses on the “S-word”. No, not that one, the other one.

John Updike’s Rules for Reviewing books posted at Critical Mass.

Blest With Sons, and others, were blogging about blogging last week. Blest has some good stuff to say. For instance: “One or two people have even gone so far as to tell me that I need to spend my time on interacting with real people and doing real ministry. (note to self – next time ask them how much tv they watch!) Look, blog fellowship is real fellowship. This is a real world, populated by the printed personalities of real people. Many of us have made real friends, found real fellowship, and experienced real joys and very real hurts through our blog adventures.”

The Headmistress writes about Poetry Night or Culture Night, not at her home, but at that of Jean Kerr, author of Please Don’t Eat the Daisies.

If any of you remember, we tried this idea (I thought it was original:) a month or so ago. It went fairly well, but I’m inspired by the Headmistress’s post to be more persistent and make it a regularly scheduled event. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Loni at Joy in the Morning is having a contest. She’s collecting “where I am from” poems, and the contest winners will get a a beautiful bracelet prize. Go here for details on how to enter the contest. I’m re-posting the poem I wrote a couple of years ago just for the contest. Enjoy the memories of a West Texas girl.

Where I Am From . . .

I am from back-yard sheds and front porches, from Holsum bread, Imperial Pure Cane sugar (it’s quick dissolving) and Gandy’s milk.

I am from the edge of the Edwards Plateau, the two bedroom house on the unpaved block of Florence Street, dusty road dividing the widow ladies from the Methodist Church across the street on one corner and the Church of God on the other.

I am from pecans and apricots, mesquite and chinaberry, the tree I sat in to read my ten allowed library books every week and to watch the neighbor lady brush out her long grey hair that had never been cut.

I am from cranking homemade ice cream with ice and rock salt packed into the freezer and going to church every time the doors were open, from Mary Eugenia and Lula Mae, Joe Author and Monger Stacy.

I come from teachers and preachers and hard workers.

From don’t sing at the table and we only expect you to do your best.

I’m from cars with names like the Maroon Marauder and Old Bessie, from carports and driveways instead of garages, from swamp coolers instead of central air, from shade trees and pavement so hot it’d burn your bare feet.

I am from Lottie Moon and Annie Armstrong, Girls’ Auxiliary and Training Union, The Old Rugged Cross and It only takes a spark, from old ladies playing the autoharp in Sunbeams and young bearded men playing the guitar around the campfire. Kumbaya.

From the Heart of Texas, the Heartland, the center of the universe, the kind of town everybody wants to be from.

I come from Wales and Arkansas, Comanche, Sweetwater, Claude, and Brownwood, fried chicken, fried potatoes, steak fingers and fried okra.

I’m from y’all and pray for rain and fixin’togo.

From the grandmother who sewed and the Mema who taught music, the grandpa who could sell ice to an Eskimo, and the grandfather who worked on cars and died before I was born.

I am from a house full of memories and craft projects, some completed and hung on the walls, some never finished, waiting for younger hands and newer minds. I’m from dreams and places where doors were not locked and neighbors never let you pay them back when you borrowed an egg or a cup of milk.

Oh, I heard about the contest from Melissa at Lilting House.

I thought of another venerable lady of literature to invite to tea: Elisabeth Elliot. She’s about 80 years old sometime this year (I couldn’t find an exact birthdate), and she lives in South Carolina with her third husband, Lars Gren. In addition to many, many works of nonfiction devotional and wisdom literature, she’s also the author of one of my favorite novels, a book which deserves more attention than it’s ever received, No Graven Image.
I’m trying to decide whether to invite all five ladies to tea at the same time. The interaction would be fascinating, but of course, one doesn’t ever know if a particular group of people will “gel” so to speak. All of the ladies I’ve mentioned are strong and articulate personalities, so they might compete for attention.

Maybe it would be better to invite Charlotte Zolotow and Tasha Tudor for tea one day and then invite Madeleine L’Engle and P.D. James another day. Then Elisabeth Elliot and her husband could come over as soon as I recovered from the first two events. Still, the idea of having all those ladies in the same room at the same time is almost irresistible. And maybe they’d distract one another so that no one would notice my below-average housekeeping skills.

No, they’d all notice, but they’d be tactful enough not to mention it. We could have tea and muffins and sit and talk of detective stories and children’s literature and making a home and living a Christian life. I’ve almost talked myself into believing that my imaginary tea party could happen.

Oh, as long as we’re imagining, all of you who would enjoy such a tea party are invited, too.

Camille at Book Moot writes about the children’s authors she’s met. I don’t think I’ve ever met any real authors. I do know of several living authors I’d like to meet, not just meet, but sit down and have lunch, correspond via email, invite to visit my blog, whatever. I might become tongue-tied in person if I met any of these Grandes Dames, but it would definitely be worth the embarrassment.

1. Madeleine L’Engle. I read somewhere that Ms. L’Engle is not in good health. She’s 87 years old. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to meet her at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine and hear her thoughts on —well, on whatever she wanted to discuss?

2. Tasha Tudor. I know, it seems as if I only want to meet elderly authors; Tasha Tudor is 90 years old. However, I prefer the term “wise women.” To have tea with Tasha Tudor and to tour her garden and home would be a delightful experience.

3. Charlotte Zolotow will be 91 on June 26, 2006. From her website: “She is wheelchair-bound, close to blind, and pretty mad about it (understandably). But she has no illnesses or diseases, and though she is sometimes forgetful these days, her memories about writing, editing, and the children’s book world are very clear.”
Ms. Zolotow edited and wrote books with all sorts of other children’s authors. I can only imagine what wonderful stories she could tell.

4. P.D. James is the youngest of this group at 85 years of age. She’s still writing. I just finished The Lighthouse, her latest detective novel, and I’ll write about it soon. Suffice it to say now that I would enjoy talking to her about her detective, Adam Dalgliesh, and about her writing and her faith.
A case for P.D. James as a Christian novelist by Ralph Wood in Theology Today, January, 2003.

What authors would you enjoy meeting for tea?

I have read some stuff by Lauren Winner, magazine articles, essays, and such, and I thought I might enjoy her spiritual memoir, Girl Meets God. Then, I thought I might not.

First of all, does a 20-something girl have enough life experience to write a book? And I gathered from something else I read that she was from the East and was Episcopalian. (Actually, she’s a Southerner, but I didn’t know that.) Would she be disdainful and snobby about American evangelicalism, which happens to be my native soil, warts and all? I knew Ms. Winner claimed to have met God, or something, but did she really become a Christian or did she just experience a conversion from secularism to some kind of vague spirituality, the kind that is in vogue nowadays—as long as it doesn’t get too specifically Christ-centered? Finally, could the girl write? Conversion testimonies are a staple of evangelical life, but if I’m going to read a book about someone’s experience of meeting God, I require that I either know the person personally or that the author be able to write a decent paragraph.

So I wasn’t sure. Lauren Winner put all my fears to rest. She can certainly write. She has a story to tell, the story of a Jewish girl who converts to strict Orthodox Judaism who then somehow becomes a Jesus-follower. She doesn’t try to explain everything that has happened to her because much of her spiritual experience is a mystery, but she does give a measured and coherent explanation for the “the hope that is within her.” She touches on her discomfort with Messianic Judaism, her affinity for ritual and the Anglican church year, her struggles with faithfulness and sexual purity, her lifelong love affair with books and all things book-ish. She is open and unrelentingly honest about her own mistakes, sins, and areas of confusion, and she adheres to an orthodox Christian faith while admitting freely that she doesn’t have it all figured out and boxed up neatly.

The book is structured by the holy days of the Jewish calendar and those of the Christian year as they intertwine and make up the present matter and the memories of Lauren’s spiritual pilgrimage. It’s a good organizational tool, allowing for lots of exploration of the differences and similarities between Judaism and Christianity and also Lauren Winner’s life before and after her conversion. Some of the topics in the book that I found the most interesting were:

* The requirements for a strict adherence to Orthodox Judaism. Ms. Winner had to formally convert to Judaism because, although her father was Jewish, her mother was not. And Jewish-ness is passed down through the female line. So, in college, although she had grown up as a member of a Reform Jewish congregation, Ms. Winner studied Judaism and Judaic law and then underwent a formal conversion ceremony, called a mikvah.

* The reading fast. For Lent, Ms. Winner’s spiritual advisor asks her to give up the thing that is most dear to her, the thing which centers her life even more than religion. He advises her to give up reading for the duration of Lent.

“‘I’d like you to give up reading for Lent.’‘Okay!’ I say recklessly.’Philippians 4:13!’ It is that verse from the Mitford books. In Mitford, Espiscopalians are always running around doing impossible things and chirping ‘Philippians 4:13.’

I found it fascinating to read about someone who actually gave up reading for a spiritual reason, fascinating and a little bit scary.

*The variations on a theme of conversion. Lauren converts to Orthodox Judaism. She later “divorces” herself from Judaism and embraces Christianity and is baptized. She tells her story in several different ways, from different perspectives. She realizes that the story is not over although she seems to be settled, even entrenched, into Anglican Christianity.

* Prayer. “I have a hard time praying. It feels, usually, like a waste of time. It feels unproductive; my time would be better spent writing a paragraph or reading a book or practicing a conjugation or baking a pie. . . Still, there are the weeks when I do pray,the weeks when I trust —or, at least, manage to act like I trust —that prayer does something, even if it is something I cannot see.”

Lauren Winner has written two other books, both of which I plan to read: Mudhouse Sabbath and most recently, Real Sex: The Naked Truth about Chastity. If you’re interested in a young, post-modern perspective on orthodox Christianity, I would highly recommend Lauren Winner’s writing. She has a blog, but it’s not been updated since February.

I have two boys and six girls. The boys are obviously outnumbered. However, Computer Guru Son(18) and Karate Kid (9) manage to make their presence known. I still don’t think I know much about raising a crop of boys, but I’m learning. Daily.

Boys are different.

Boys are not only different from girls; they’re different from each other. One of my boys is strong, handsome, and not at all interested in athletics. He’s the quiet type, not outgoing, but a very steadfast and loyal friend once he commits to a friendship. The other one is loud and boisterious, friendly with everyone, and everyone is friendly to him. He plays all sorts of games and sports, excels at some things and enjoys playing even if he doesn’t win. He’s a rough and tumble kind of boy in contrast to his brother who is neat, clean and fastidious. So, the first lesson is that, even within families, boys can have varying personalities and characteristics.  

Boys are protectors.

Even with their differences, boys enjoy feeling respected and useful. My girls want to be helpers; my boys want to “save the day.” There’s a subtle but important difference. My girls want to be like me (to some extent), assist me, to learn from me, but my boys want to take care of me and the rest of the family, to protect us and make us proud of them. I try to remember to let them do so

Boys do have emotions.

My children are very verbal. All of them were talking in complete sentences before they were two years old. However, I find that my boys are less willing, maybe less able, to express emotions than are my girls. I have to help them sometimes, ask leading questions that would never be allowed in a courtroom. On the other hand, although my boys can become very angry, they don’t usually dissolve into tears or make an emotional scene. They leave that to the girls.

Boys are fun.

Boys are lots of fun and lots of work. I often don’t understand what they’re thinking, and Engineer Husband can’t or doesn’t tell me, so I have to work harder to communicate with my boys and to know what they need in the way of counsel and help at any given time. However, because they are such foreign creatures in many ways, I have a ball watching them, listening to them, trying to understand them. Karate Kid and even my young man, Computer Guru Son, both make me laugh and remind me of why and how much I love their father even though he’s one of those furriner boys, too. 

Some excellent posts from other bloggers about boys:

Amy Scott on treating boys like the men we want them to become.

Amanda Witt(ingshire) on raising, not squelching, men.

Spunky on teaching boys to work.