The emancipation of womanhood

"The emancipation of womanhood began with Christianity and ends with Christianity…When women in this country achieved equality with men, it was accomplished only by stepping down from the pedestal on which Christianity, chivalry, and idealism had placed her… So she copied the vices of men – in the name of progress! It is not progress to go down in a downward direction. It is not progress to lower and to lose ideals!

No woman ever became lovelier by losing her essential femininity... America needs young women who will build true homes, whether they live in two rooms – or ten… whether starched white organdie curtains hang at the windows – or silk damask...We need homes where harassed husbands may find peace, understanding, refreshment of body and soul…Where children may find the warmth of love…Where friends may find hospitality, graciousness and joy.

Only out of such homes will go men with strength and courage to …build a new and better world. To make such homes is, therefore, any woman’s supreme contribution to her country and to her generation."

Peter Marshall


Magnolia blooms at last..

After the disappointment of having our lovely magnolia buds eaten by some creature in early Spring...we had the joy of seeing new flowers bud and blossom in late Summer!
This is a Star Wars Magnolia and has the largest flowers of all magnolia trees.

Finally, we get to enjoy a beautiful view of it in all it's glory from our dining room window! 



Desperately, helplessly, longingly, I cried:
Quietly, patiently, lovingly God replied.

I pled and I wept for a clue to my fate,
And the Master so gently said, "Child, you must wait".

"Wait? You say, wait! " my indignant reply.
"Lord, I need answers, I need to know why!
Is your hand shortened? Or have you not heard?
By Faith, I have asked, and am claiming your Word.
My future and all to which I can relate
hangs in the balance, and YOU tell me to WAIT?
I'm needing a 'yes', a go-ahead sign,
or even a 'no' to which I can resign.
And Lord, You promised that if we believe
we need but to ask, and we shall receive.
And Lord, I've been asking, and this is my cry:
I'm weary of asking! I need a reply!

Then quietly, softly, I learned of my fate
As my Master replied once again, "You must wait."

So, I slumped in my chair, defeated and taut
and grumbled to God, "So, I'm waiting.... for what?"

He seemed, then, to kneel, and His eyes wept with mine,
And he tenderly said, "I could give you a sign.
I could shake the heavens, and darken the sun.
I could raise the dead, and cause mountains to run.
All you seek, I could give, and pleased you would be.
You would have what you want--But, you wouldn't know Me.

You'd not know the depth of My love for each saint;
You'd not know the power that I give to the faint;
You'd not learn to see through the clouds of despair;
You'd not learn to trust just by knowing I'm there;
You'd not know the joy of resting in Me
When darkness and silence were all you could see.

You'd never experience that fullness of love
As the peace of My Spirit descends like a dove;
You'd know that I give and I save.... (for a start),
But you'd not know the depth of the beat of My heart.

The glow of My comfort late into the night,
The faith that I give when you walk without sight,
The depth that's beyond getting just what you asked
Of an infinite God, who makes what you have LAST.

You'd never know, should your pain quickly flee,
What it means that "My grace is sufficient for Thee."
Yes, your dreams for your loved one overnight would come true,
But, Oh, the Loss! If I lost what I'm doing in you!

So, be silent, My Child, and in time you will see
That the greatest of gifts is to get to know Me.
And though oft' may My answers seem terribly late,
My most precious answer of all is still, "WAIT."

(Author Unknown)

Wash day


Soaked and scrubbed in a round tin tub
with homemade soap
up and down the ribs of a wooden washboard
by hands rubbed red & raw
on a windy wash day morn.

Stiffened with starch, squeezed
and wrung to a twisted laundry rope
then hung on lines to flap
back and forth and snap dry
on a windy wash day morn.

Laid on the lawn like paper cutouts
clean shirts and sheets, towels and skirts
smelling of sun and clouds and wind
wait to be ironed and worn and dirtied
again for another wash day morn.

~ Brenda Seabrooke, American poet and novelist

Some days..

Some days.. you just want to stay home contented
 to be wrapped up by your familiar surroundings.

Some days.. you look around your room with clearer vision and see,
 just how beautiful an ordinary day can be.

Some days.. you decide to quit fighting shadows
 and choose to dance in the light instead.

Some days.. you find illumination on a situation that has perplexed you,
 and suddenly everything seems brighter once again.

Some days are like that...