Psalm 121 (New King James Version) A Song of Ascents.
1 I will lift up my eyes to the hills— From whence comes my help? 2 My help comes from the LORD, Who made heaven and earth. 3 He will not allow your foot to be moved; He who keeps you will not slumber. 4 Behold, He who keeps Israel Shall neither slumber nor sleep. 5 The LORD is your keeper; The LORD is your shade at your right hand. 6 The sun shall not strike you by day, Nor the moon by night. 7 The LORD shall preserve you from all evil; He shall preserve your soul. 8 The LORD shall preserve your going out and your coming in From this time forth, and even forevermore.
A letter from William Cowper TO REV. JOHN NEWTON November 30, 1783. . . . Let our station be as retired as it may, there is no want of playthings and avocations, nor much need to seek them, in this world of ours. Business, or what presents itself to us under that imposing character, will find us out even in the stillest retreat, and plead its importance, however trivial in reality, as a just demand upon our attention. It is wonderful how, by means of such real or seeming necessities, my time is stolen away. I have just time to observe that time is short, and by the time I have made the observation, time is gone. I have wondered in former days at the patience of the antediluvian world, — that they could endure a life almost millenary, with so little variety as seems to have fallen to their share . It is probable that they had much fewer employments than we. Their affairs lay in a narrower compass; their libraries were indifferently furnished; philosophical researches were carried on with much less industry and acuteness of penetration; and fiddles, perhaps, were not even invented. How then could seven or eight hundred years of life be supportable? I have asked this question formerly, and been at a loss to resolve it; but I think I can answer it now. I will suppose myself born a thousand years before Noah was born or thought of. I rise with the sun; I worship; I prepare my breakfast; I swallow a bucket of goat's milk, and a dozen good sizable cakes. I fasten a new string to my bow, and my youngest boy, a lad of about thirty years of age, having played with my arrows till he has stripped off all the feathers, I find myself obliged to repair them. The morning is thus spent in preparing for the chase, and it is become necessary that I should dine. I dig up my roots; I wash them; I boil them ; I find them not done enough ; I boil them again ; my wife is angry; we dispute; we settle the point; but in the mean time the fire goes out, and must be kindled again. All this is very amusing. I hunt; I bring home the prey; with the skin of it I mend an old coat, or I make a new one. By this time the day is far spent; I feel myself fatigued, and retire to rest. Thus, what with tilling the ground and eating the fruit of it, hunting and walking and running, and mending old clothes, and sleeping and rising again, I can suppose an inhabitant of the primaeval world so much occupied as to sigh over the shortness of life, and to find at the end of many centuries that they had all slipped through his fingers, and were passed away like a shadow. September 18, 1784. . . . My greenhouse is never so pleasant as when we are just upon the point of being turned out of it. ... I sit with all the windows and the door wide open, and am regaled with the scent of every flower in a garden as full of flowers as I have known how to make it. We keep no bees, but if I lived in a hive I should hardly hear more of their music. All the bees in the neighborhood resort to a bed of mignonette opposite to the window, and pay me for the honey they get out of it by a hum which, though rather monotonous, is as agreeable to my ear as the whistling of my linnets. All the sounds that nature utters are delightful, — at least in this country. I should not, perhaps, find the roaring of lions in Africa, or of bears in Russia, very pleasing; but I know no beast in England whose voice I do not account musical, save and except always the braying of- an ass. The notes of all our birds and fowls please me, without one exception. I should not, indeed, think of keeping a goose in a cage, that I might hang him up in the parlor for the sake of his melody; but a goose upon a common, or in a farm-yard, is no bad performer. And as to insects, if the black beetle, and beetles indeed of all hues, will keep out of my way, I have no objection to any of the rest; on the contrary, in whatever key they sing, from the gnat's fine treble to the bass of the humble bee, I admire them all. Seriously, however, it strikes me as a very observable instance of providential kindness to man, that such an exact accord has been contrived between his ear and the sounds with which — at least in a rural situation — it is almost every moment visited. All the world is sensible of the uncomfortable effect that certain sounds have upon the nerves, and consequently upon the spirits; and if a sinful world had been filled with such as would have curdled the b'.ood, and have made the sense of hearing a perpetual inconvenience, I do not know that we should have had a right to complain. But now the fields, the woods, the gardens, have each their concert, and the ear of man is forever regaled by creatures who seem only to please themselves. Even the ears that are deaf to the Gospel are continually entertained, though without knowing it, by ', sounds for which they are solely indebted to its Author. There is somewhere in infinite space a world that does not roll within the precincts of mercy, and as it is reasonable, and even scriptural, to suppose that there is music in heaven, in those dismal regions perhaps the reverse of it is found, — tones so dismal as to make woe itself more insupportable, and to acuminate even despair. . .
This is an excerpt of the many letters of Cowper found at the address below:
Really! I had two and a half-minutes to fill while my mug of water heated in the microwave, so I started reading the box. I had to smile when I read this little blurb:
"Our Natural Heritage In 1969, Celestial Seasonings began picking fresh herbs in the forests and canyons of the Rocky Mountains and blending them to create healthy, flavorful teas. This tradition...continues to this day."
Doesn't it just conjure up pictures of gentle hippies wading through knee-deep undergrowth in a lush forest, carefully choosing a sprig of peppermint here, a little chamomile there? How do they fill all those millions of boxes we see on supermarket shelves using this labor intensive method??? Well, actually, they don't. As I found out they import their herbs from 35 countries and buy most of them from, "small farms within their indigenous areas. This ensures that the plant products Celestial Seasonings buys are collected or harvested without undue harm to the environment, while local jobs and businesses are supported."** Hmmm...could it be that it's also cheaper to buy these products from poor third-world countries rather than producing them here? Ah, sweet cynicism.
No, this isn't a rant against big businesses exploiting poor herb farmers. Just the weird wanderings of my ever-curious mind. After living on the outskirts of Boulder, Colorado (where Celestial Seasonings is located) from 1966 to 1980 I couldn't quite believe they ever found enough herbs in the "forests and canyons of the Rocky Mountains" to make more than a couple of boxes of herbal tea so, of course, I had to investigate. Perhaps they do make an annual pilgrimage into the hills to collect a few handfuls of herbs (which would be getting more and more difficult to find considering the way the population of Boulder has exploded since my days there) so they can legally continue to feed our childlike belief in the gentle hippy legend on the box. It's a wonderful visual, I must say. And I do love their tea! (Gotta try that Morning Thunder.)
I've been watching all of my favorite home design shows on HGTV and decided to do a Google search to find my perfect living room. And here it is! Cozy, cheerful, casual (okay, sloppy), lots of books, and the TV has been relegated to the corner! The designers on HGTV would have a COW over this, but I love it!
And while we're at it, let's put it in this little hippy house! I love this simple little house, though it doesn't have to be perched over the river. That makes me nervous. Of course, it would be pleasant to see Mole and Rat paddle by in their little boat. :D (Grass on the roof, optional.)
I've just added a new blog, called "enhabiten" to my list. It seems to be about living simply and I'm looking forward to exploring it. I found it while looking for "hippy house designs", so it might be interesting.
In recent years I've discovered, to my surprise, that I still love the old '70's music, from the secular to the Christian stuff I listened to when I was a teen. I guess that's when we really develop our "style" and it doesn't really change. I always thought my style would change as I got older, but it really hasn't. I'll never give up my jeans!
I guess you can't take the hippy out of the old girl! :D
The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me.
My son Josh and d-i-l Jess (parents of Nathan and Starry)
Click on photo to go to Josh's blog.
Daughter Micah and Adam (parents of Audrey and Hazel)
Before Audrey's birth...obviously.
'Simple pleasures are the last refuge of the complex.' ( Oscar Wilde)
“All around you, people will be tiptoeing through life, just to arrive safely at death. But, dear children, do not tiptoe. Run, hop, skip, or dance, just don’t tiptoe.”
Tony Campolo as quoted in "The Irresistible Revolution" by Shane Claiborne.
Grandson Nathan Aslan Richards
What a little sassyfrass!
Love that little face!
Granddaughter Danielle Starry Hope Richards
Feb. 3, 2012
A little doll!
Clever use of feet!
Granddaughter Audrey Rayne Yliniemi
Hazel Jane Yliniemi
Our little peach.
My Pen and Ink Blog
MY BOOK REVIEWS
"We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased." C.S. Lewis
I live in the northwoods of Minnesota on a small farm. My husband, Bob, went home to be with Jesus on November 19, 2013. God is leading me through this new part of my life. Our seven kids ranging in age from 23-52 are strewn around the country and I'm proud of all of them!
I love to read (especially English literature), write, draw and sing. My main goal in life is to become more like Jesus and make Him the center of my life. (I say goal because I haven't arrived yet!) My prayer is that my children will also live this out. Thanks for dropping by!
"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket-- safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable."~ C.S. Lewis, British scholar and novelist. 1898-1963
My husband's great-grandfather, Hans Langseth. He's in the Guninness Book of World Records for his beard, which is 18-1/2 feet long in this photo. It is recorded as 17-1/2 feet because 12 inches of it were left on him when it was cut after his death.
Books Read from 2007 to the Present (in no particular order)
Fyodor Dostoevsky-Peter Leithart
Beyond Personality-C.S. Lewis
Green Dolphin Street-Elizabeth Goudge
Through Painted Deserts-Donald Miller (still reading)
Light From Heaven-Jan Karon
Blue Like Jazz-Donald Miller
Searching for God Knows What-Donald Miller
Hamlet's Dresser-Bob Smith
Crazy Love-Francis Chan
Breaking Intimidation-John Bevere
John Bunyan-Kevin Belmonte
One Writer's Beginnings-Eudora Welty
Agatha Christie-An Autobiography
Castle Blair-Flora L. Shaw
If You Lived Here, I'd Know Your Name-Heather Lende
The Irish Country Doctor
The Irresistible Revolution-Shane Claiborne
Bread and Butter-What a Bunch of Bakers Taught Me About Business and Happiness by Tom McMakin
I Capture the Castle-Dodie Smith
The Pastor's Wife-Sabina Wurmbrand
No Holly for Miss Quinn-Miss Read
Kabul 24-Henry Arnold
Reflections on the Psalms-C.S. Lewis
The Hollow Hills-Mary Stewart
The Homecoming of Beorhtnoth-Tolkien
Smith of Wootton Major-J.R.R. Tolkien
Leaf by Niggle-J.R.R. Tolkien
The Child From the Sea-Elizabeth Goudge
The Shack-William Young
You Gotta Keep Dancing-Tim Hansel
The World's Last Night and other Essays-C.S. Lewis
Letters of C.S. Lewis
In the Beginning-Chaim Potok
Space Trilogy-C.S. Lewis
On Stories and other Essays on Literature-C.S. Lewis
There are two kinds of people: those who say to God, "Thy will be done," and those to whom God says, "All right, then, have it your way." C.S. Lewis
Borrowed From Bread and Roses
Our minds need many kinds of exercise, and creativity which uses mind and muscles is a source of balance and a wellspring of joy. A woman who walks in the woods, who makes a lampshade, who bakes a loaf of bread, who refinishes an old chair, has not time for bitterness and depression.
-The Pace of a Hen by Josephine Moffett Benton
You can't get a cup of tea big enough or a book long enough to suit me. C.S. Lewis