Which of all my important nothings shall I tell you first? Jane Austen (in correspondence)
I believe I should adopt this as my correspondence motto, for this phrase accurately describes most of my letter writing.
The afternoon knows what the morning never suspected. Robert Frost
I love that so much.
Believe in the darkness what you have seen in the light. Lilias Trotter
Yes and amen!
The truth shall make you odd. Flannery O’Connor
Flannery, that made me chuckle. It certainly made you odd, and although I hesitate to say it, the truth has made me odd as well. Sometimes knowing and speaking the truth makes us uncomfortable people to be around.
Wild is the music of the autumnal winds amongst the faded woods. William Wordsworth
I just want to read that one over and over.
One of my recent favorite photos (I desperately want to say something Wordsworthian about it!)
This post of important nothings will never suspect what might happen to it in the morning.
It started with a surprise apple pie with three candles in it. The traditional birthday song was sung, the candles were blown out and a gift was given.
I’ll be getting two letters a month for a year, the so-called “Flower Letters.” I’d seen this advertised on Instagram before. It’s an intriguing idea, somewhat on the order of a subscription to a story that you receive in installments. My family chose a storyline for me that takes place in England during the Jane Austen era, which will include elements of romance and mystery, all within the context of what was happening in history at that time.
The first letter has already arrived, coming in an attractive tin which will hold all of the letters.
The portrait in the photo above represents the young man who wrote the letter, a fellow named Phineas. There will also be 12 attractive postcards that I can use to send to others. I’m looking forward to seeing the story unfold.
What a unique and delightful gift!
I’ll probably put this in a blog post tin in the morning.
It may surprise you to learn that though we were out and about the last two weeks, tiny art happened. Oh, you’re not surprised? Well I sure was. I often bring artsy supplies with me on our trips, packed in the Bag of Good Intentions. They usually come back home again in the Satchel of Shame.
But I have learned a few things. With the exception of the peacock feather, which I painted before we left, the rest of these were drawn on watercolor washes that I made so I wouldn’t have to bring paints, brushes and guilt.
My own tiny art peacock feather book finally made its maiden voyage! And what better subject that a peacock feather?
A feathery eye Set in iridescent gold, the Jewel of God.
And two more in the Peacock Feather Book:
Copied this from something on Pinterest – loved the stylized look of the feathers. Trying to do this in a moving car turned out to be a mistake.
If you don’t know this reference, how are we friends? Ha ha – just kidding! We listened to this audiobook on the road, one of the Magnificent Seven books in the Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis.
And now, back to the OG tiny art book:
The underwater singing of a fish.
God’s creatures all know how to sing His praise. We just don’t always know how to hear it.
This post will be dropped into the sea in the morning where it will forever hear the underwater singing of fish.
Here we are again, meeting over some thought-provoking quotes that I’ve been copying in my Commonplace Book. May you find encouragement along the way.
If God has made your cup sweet, Drink it with grace; If He has made it bitter, Drink it in communion with Him. Oswald Chambers
(Stock photo, not one of mine)
God is good all the time. All the time, God is good. Drink it up.
If anything crosses your will, see in it a chance to die. Amy Carmichael
You can tell that these saints of old knew what it was to face affliction. May we follow in their train.
I walked a mile with Pleasure; She chatted all the way; But left me none the wiser For all she had to say.
I walked a mile with Sorrow, And ne’er a word said she; But oh! The things I learned from her, When Sorrow walked with me. Robert Browning Hamilton
The book Hinds Feet on High Places by Hannah Hurnard is an old favorite of mine. The main character, Much-Afraid, is given two companions on her journey to the High Places, Sorrow and Suffering. She recoils from them and dreads taking their hands at first, but soon comes to appreciate their companionship. This little poem recalled that to my mind.
And to end on a lighter note, here’s a quote from John Adams that is all too apropos even all these years later:
In my many years I have come to a conclusion that one useless man is a shame, two is a law firm, and three or more is a congress. John Adams
Ha ha! That’s what you call a trenchant observation!
Driving across Wyoming at sunset
One useless post is a shame that should be deleted in the morning.
We just got back from a road trip on which we decided to eat only at family diners along the way and back. These places are hidden treasures with simple menus, simple food, reasonable prices, and charming local color that you’ll never see when you stop at food chains. There are no trendy foods like quinoa on the menu, nor will the menu descriptions wax eloquent with phrases like “nestled in a bed of saffron-infused pilaf” or “seasoned with a melange of piquant balsamic vinegars.” There’s no waste of time in the local diner: you sit down, you look at the menu, you order, and a plate of wholesome tasty food comes quickly. In addition, there are no televisions on the walls and usually no music playing, two features of modern bars and restaurants that I dislike with a holy fervor. Like “Cheers,” these are hometown places where everybody knows your name, and you walk in as aliens and strangers.
We were at one of these diners having lunch and a couple of old fellows came shambling in (older than us, even). They sat in the booth behind us and one of them got my attention, saying, “Excuse me, Miss – what’s that you ordered? I might have to get one of those.” Ha ha! When the waitress came to their booth, she addressed them by name, asking how they were doing. The talkative fellow volunteered that he was okay, but had been having terrible vertigo and it even made him fall off his tractor once. She expressed concern and they had a little chat about his subsequent hospital visit and current state of health. Don’t ask me not to eavesdrop – there wasn’t a single private thing about it. The whole conversation was on public display and I felt blessed to be part of the audience.
At another place where we stopped for breakfast, our waiter was a young fellow with a tiny mustache, just the right amount of murmur in his tone, and a strong streak of quirk in his commentary. I ordered a couple waters for us while hubby was away from the table; he nodded and began walking away, but turned back as if struck with inspiration. “How about lemon?” he suggested, with an air of giving me an opportunity to walk on the wild side. “Sure,” I responded, “Throw some in.” When he came back, he apologized that the lemon slices were not, in fact, thrown in the water but were perched on the rim of the glass. “You could probably kidnap the lemon slice from his glass,” he said conspiratorially, since I was still alone. The menu featured a child’s drawing of the owner on the front. How charming is that? When I added hot chocolate to my order, the waiter murmured approvingly and said something about the exciting sprinkles that would be on the top of it. The owner of the place was also the cook; he came out to talk to us when we had a question on one of the orders.
We noticed that young people were usually not part of the patronage at these places and wondered if local family diners would be extinct in another generation. I sure hope not.
P.S. Only one of these places proved to be a sad exception to the rule: a small place that still found room for four televisions on the walls (each showing something different) and obnoxious music playing on top of all of that. RUDE!
I’ll probably delete this simple post with simple words and local color in the morning.
Original post in June 2023: This painting is for my friend, Sherri, who deals with chronic pain due to neuropathy. She’s always so cheerful when I see her – I don’t think I’d deal with my pain half so well. Now I need to put this one in the mail for her.
Update: I’m reposting this today in honor of my friend Sherri whom the Lord recently called home to Him. She is living out the beautiful truth of Revelation 21:4b:
There shall be no more pain for the former things have passed away.
Sherri and I met through homeschooling many years ago and I enjoyed her lively humor and sense of fun from the beginning. We saw each other somewhat regularly over the span of those homeschooling years, but it really wasn’t until our kids were mostly grown and gone that the friendship took off. Whenever we got together I knew I was in for an interesting conversation involving politics, current events, our shared faith, theology, our children, conspiracy theories, prepping for emergencies, health issues and more. Buckle up!
A few years ago, she broke her ankle and I ended up spending some time every week with her for a couple months. Originally, I just thought she might enjoy the company, since she was homebound. However, she came up with the idea that as long as I was there, maybe I could help her with sorting through her stuff. Both Sherri and I have a hard time getting rid of our own stuff, but there’s nothing more fun than helping someone else get rid of theirs. Say no more! I rolled up my sleeves and we spent those afternoons sorting through things, with me forcing her to make constant decisions about whether to keep, give away or throw away every item. Each time I left there were a couple more boxes or bags of things to get rid of. She was probably exhausted after every visit, but honestly it was so much fun. She was such a good sport about it all and the time together was a wonderful blessing to me. When she was back on her feet, she came over to my house to return the favor by helping me get rid of stuff in my craft room. She was every bit as hard on me as I was on her – and I needed it! And through it all, there was always lots of laughter.
Somewhere along the line, we got in the habit of taking each other out for our birthdays every year. It was a lovely tradition, one we both looked forward to. Her birthday was in August, but we didn’t get to it until early September this year. I treated her to a session of red light therapy with me before the meal, which was a hoot. I don’t remember much of what we talked about in particular that day, but it was the last time we were together.
I was shocked and devastated when I heard the news of her passing. Don’t get me wrong – I rejoice that she’s with Jesus and that her long years of pain are over. She is free indeed. But I will miss her tremendously. Everyone who knew her is now poorer without her in some way.
But thanks be to God, I will see her again, and for that I am very grateful.
Have you ever seen the 2013 movie “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty”? Walter Mitty is a single man in his early 40’s living an uneventful life in which he takes few risks. This is what he is on the outside, but his inner life is rich with stories in which he jumps off a bridge to save a dog from a burning building, or in which he is a rugged explorer in arctic regions, or again in which he responds with wit, action, and bravery when he is bullied by his new boss at Life Magazine. This secret life of his causes him to zone out from his real life, as he gets caught up in these fantasies which demonstrate the kind of person he would like to be. Things happen that propel Walter to start living a life of risk-taking and adventure, but no spoilers from me. We’ve watched this movie so many times – it never gets old. Highly recommend!
In a certain sense we all have secret lives, the realm of our thought lives. And what a strange world it can be sometimes. I have been known to zone out with people while entertaining some sort of inner story or conversation. Like Walter Mitty, I also sometimes envision vignettes in which I am helping someone, making myself notable in some way to others, i.e. creating images that we call “delusions of grandeur.” In the secret life of Lynniebee, I am calm, confident and articulate when faced with an adversarial conversation. In the secret life of Lynniebee, I share the gospel easily and effectively with others.
But also in the secret life of Lynniebee, I am prone to creating whole scenarios out of my anxieties and dwelling on them as if they were real. I’ve been known to blow a health issue so far out of proportion that I’ve imagined my own funeral. In the secret life of Lynniebee, I am always justified when I’m angry. My thought life can become like a stampeding herd of dangerous cattle, out of control. What can you do when your inner life has gone wild?
There’s a reason why we are told to take every thought captive to the obedience of Jesus Christ. The apostle Paul tells us exactly how to corral these wild beasts and tame them. “Finally brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence or anything worthy of praise, let your mind dwell on those things.” Philippians 4:8. I have learned to get a lasso out whenever I detect an impending stampede. The first lasso I throw out is always the question “Is it true?” You wouldn’t believe how many wild things I’ve taken captive with that one question. But all those other considerations make good lassos too.
The secret life of Lynniebee isn’t a secret to God. One of my favorite verses is “Search me, O God, and know my heart. Try me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there be any hurtful way in me, and lead me in the everlasting way.” Psalm 139:23-24. He knows me. He knows my heart. He knows my anxious thoughts. And in spite of all that, He loves me enough to root out those things that are hurtful and then lead me in the everlasting way.
Thanks be to God!
I’ll probably pick some banana peppers and delete this in the morning.
That title is too long, but I wanted each word to be there. Some people spare words, others multiply them. You know which one I am by now.
Another week of Tiny Art! My goal is to do four of these per week. It’s good practice for me and gives me a reason to leave my craft table all full of open paint sets and other vaguely artsy misc. The usual disclaimer applies: I copied things I found on Pinterest and added my own words.
Behind Door #1:
Who remembers the song “Daisy, Daisy?” It might actually have been called “Bicycle Built for Two.” My mom’s PCA was named Daisy and I could not (COULD NOT) resist singing this part of the song to her whenever I saw her. (At least I spared her the next line: “I’m half crazy all for the love of you.”) It was either charming or obnoxious – let’s hope it was the former.
The Little House on a Little Hill. If you think that house looks wonky, you’re not alone. But while I was working on it, a phrase kept running through my head from Psalm 15: LORD, who may abide in Your tabernacle? Who may dwell in Your holy hill? It’s funny what words trigger things to run through your mind.
Behind Door #2:
Poof! No other commentary is necessary.
Lime slice, Fresh and nice. My advice: No matter the price, Let it suffice, Limes are nice!
Sometimes poems slip in when I’m not looking.
I’ve also made a couple Tiny Art books by myself, having found the one I bought to be a little TOO tiny. The seller ought to have marketed them as “Teeny Tiny Art Books.”
Lastly, my dear and patient readers, I am working on the third crib mobile of this year. The first two went to granddaughters that were born earlier in the year. This one is for the granddaughter who may actually be born today! Which means I better get hopping on finishing the mobile.
Praise God from whom all blessings flow, Praise Him all creatures here below, Praise Him above ye heavenly host, Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost. AMEN!
Blog post, More words than most, With morning’s roast It will be toast.
Lynniebeemuseoday 