Real Humility

I suppose all of the following thoughts began to form in my mind a few weeks ago when I was in the midst of reading through Job. Many, many different thoughts tend to assail my mind when I read that book. As humans, I think we are fascinated by the message of Job's story. It's a hard one to unravel, that's for certain. I mulled and mulled and mulled over it.

We happened to be playing on FamilyLife's 'Love Like You Mean It' Marriage Cruise when I finished the book. It was early in the morning, and I was by myself on the top deck resting in a chair beneath the sun, looking out at the glorious creation that is the ocean.

There couldn't have been a better place to read the last chapters of Job - God's response to the many conjectures of the man. Reading the passage in that particular spot, I was made doubly aware of the grandeur of Yahweh. So much of the time, living in our little busy worlds, we forget just what He has created, the reality of just what He has done, and instead have a trite version of it in our minds. Take a moment and consider the completely breathless beauty of what God has made, and His astounding, dumbfounding acts of strength over the course of history. We forget.

God is completely and totally sovereign over this earth. Nothing is beyond His power to accomplish. I can't imagine His thoughts when He looks at our so often disbelieving spirits. Why in the world should we ever for a single moment doubt Him? Or not trust in His power?

As I pondered these things, I began to think of humility, and think of it in a new way. Living in humility is living in truth - living in reality. We are nothing without God. The reason I have fingers is because He gave them to me. The reason I can breathe, walk, move, be, is because He has given me that gift. Even my smallest, weakest successes on the road to righteousness are only gained because He has been merciful enough to help me. We are even totally incapable of the smallest giving of love without God. We ought to laugh when prideful thoughts surface in our minds. You mean I've done it myself? That's a good joke! God, and only God, has accomplished anything good or beautiful in my life.

"My eyes are drawn to the man of a humble and contrite spirit, who trembles at my word." - Isaiah 66:2

To be humble is to be absolutely aware of the sovereignty of God. And if we are wholly aware of it, then we will rest in Him. How could we not? If we know that we can only live or act in Him?

And why should we stress and worry over money, comfort, work, school, and heave and break down trying (and failing) to gain righteousness by our own efforts (our default modus operandi), when what Jesus wants is simply a humble servant, who deeply and truly serves and is aware of Him - who wants nothing but Him. A servant who is totally conscious of his dependence on God, and thus has total peace in God.

And I don't just mean peace in heart and mind. I mean a literal, bodily letting go of the constant stress that we have learned to hold in our very muscles. Consider all of the verses that speak of God wanting us to have peace. There are hundreds.

"Peace I bequeath to you. My own peace I give you. A peace the world cannot give, this is my gift to you. Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid."

We should wake up each morning with nothing but the purpose of loving one another and passing on this peace in our minds. Nothing (and I mean nothing) is more important.

Yahweh wants His children to live in peace. To live in peace is to live in power. And to live in peace and power is to live in Him.

Gretchen

Life And All

Well, time does fly! I was looking through old posts the other day and realized that I hadn't posted since November. What? Really? No way! Oh dear… sooooo... here I go restarting.

I must say that I was inspired by looking into some other blogs. One I've found is called Honey and Jam. Mix gorgeous photography and really yummy looking recipes, and you've got it. I've been cooking a lot more recently - the other day I made supper for the family (complete with a gorgonzola brie caramelized onion tart…. oh yes) and that was a great deal of fun and stress. I suppose I still need to learn how to cook for eight or more and not get in over my head. Though, in my defense, a tornado was on its way through, so that made everything just a tad different.

On the whole, life is very good. Very busy, sometimes hectic, but good. If life had to be busy-free and hectic-free in order to be good, we might all be in a bit of trouble. And time flies… I've also been writing a good deal more (which means that I'm writing a little bit instead of nothing at all). And today I began 'Brideshead Revisited' by Evelyn Waugh. New author for me, but Benjamin and Alex both lauded it - plus I heard that there was a great BBC adaptation, so there's double yumminess in that combo!

The annual Winter/Spring illnesses have thrown the household for quite a loop this time 'round. I finally bought a big ole bottle of Vitamin C because Mr. Cold just kept coming back again. The day I no longer have crud will be glorious!

Well, my friends, it has been short - but I must skedaddle.

Ta ta for now and many blessings!

Gretchen

How Green Was My Valley: A Book Review

The other day I finished reading a really wonderful book - How Green Was My Valley by Richard Llewellyn. It's a fictional memoir about a family living in a Welsh coal mining town during the turn of the century. The story is told from the perspective of Huw Morgan, (the youngest boy in the family of six sons and three daughters) as an old man, looking back upon his childhood and coming of age. The book has a very heavy strain of melancholy throughout it, which, surprisingly, seems to add a charm to the narrative, rather than a cloud.

Despite the fact that it is a fictional memoir, the characters, place, and experiences feel so real that I can't help but think that the author really did experience the greater part of what he wrote of.

The book is incredibly enjoyable because of the relationships of the people. It's easy to fall in love with the family, the community, and the way they live. It certainly awakens within you a deep desire to go back to their simplicity of living (at least in some ways).

The Morgan family is very religious, for the most part. The deep faith of the father pervades his wife and children so entirely, that you are not sure they would be as steadfast church-goers as they are but for him. The children know their Bible back-to-front, yet they disobey such basic Christian rules, seemingly without any remorse, that you wonder what the writer was thinking when he wrote it. The breaking of the rules in and of itself is not shocking (for these characters), but the fact that they never feel any discomfort at all is peculiar in light of their foundational Christian upbringing.

There are also some views on Christianity that the main boy holds, which are very out of place. But, to tell the truth, they didn't bother me because they're so out of place that I marked it up to the author pinning his own beliefs upon the main character. In real life, living in his family, he would have never believed what he did.

One thing that Llewellyn highly succeeds in is painting a picture of the beauty and wonder of God's creation in Man and Woman, the peace and glory of Family, and the building of and branching out of life that the love between the two brings forth. He paints a glorious picture of Creation and our place in it - the simple truths and beauties of humanity. You really have to read the book to get the full picture.

But the main point of the book that I want to address is the over-arching sense of "you can't go home again". Llewellyn weaves such a capturing picture of the goodness, hardships, joys, and failures of the character's lives, that it's very touching by the end, and leaves you with a very deep understanding of the reality that days go by, and you can't have them back, no matter how hard you try. I think we've all experienced this truth in different ways - growing up and realizing that some of the most beautiful days of your life are gone, going through the death of a loved one and looking back upon the days you had with them - realizing that they are gone. I could go on. It's very easy to become so entangled in the sadness of these realities that your life becomes one great sorrow.

But in thinking about these things, I've come to realize something that is very freeing.

God has laid out the natural course of our lives to be filled with joy - in every stage. Now mind, this joy is only realized for those who follow His laws. You are an infant, toddler, and child, growing up in innocence and beauty, surrounded by people who love you and will protect you, raising you up in the truth of the Lord. You are an adolescent and a young adult, looking forward to many exciting changes that await you within the next ten years of your life, waiting expectantly for what God has in store for you. You are an adult with a spouse and young children, glorying in the beauty of your little ones, enjoying once again the laughter that you yourself remember as a child. You are middle-aged, watching your children grow to adulthood in the fear of God, and waiting with expectation to see what He has planned for them. Now you're old, your children have children, and once again you bask in the warmth of those little ones and the love that the growing generations have for you.

Life is Beautiful.

What was brought home to me reading How Green Was My Valley is this - that without the fear, peace, and love of God, there is no joy. Life is too hard, filled with too many sadnesses, to get through without Him. By the end of it you will only have joy in the memory of what life was when He was there, blessing you, as Huw Morgan does in reminiscing of his childhood.

I've gone on for a long time now, so I shall cease. In a word, 'How Green Was My Valley' is very much worth the read. I found it enchanting. And if you read it with the knowledge that God is always with you, no matter what changes in life come and what beautiful times are gone forever, it will be all the sweeter.

Gretchen

Good Gifts

"Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows." - James 1:17

I had never considered until now that it is a discipline to bear in mind that every good gift comes from God. It's a beautiful putting forth of faith. I got up this morning, walked into a kitchen overflowing with people whom I love and who love me, and we ate together delicious food that only a few people in the entire world get to enjoy - and I thought, "All of these things come from God. Every good gift comes from God."

And all of a sudden I realized that, if you look at the world around you in the light of this truth (the truth of the God who does not change with the shifting shadows) everything about you comes to vivid life; it's like God is right there beside you, handing you one gift upon another, until your mind is overloaded by the greatness of His love for you.

It's a discipline to think this way, for our natural inclination is to look at life skeptically, or through a self-centered lens - but if God is truly the giver of all good gifts, than everything good in our lives is from Him, and is only there because He was kind and merciful enough to give it to us. If I am sitting amongst my family of an evening having a quiet conversation, that is a good gift. If I am fixing a meal that few others in the world are able to eat, that is a good gift. If sunshine streams upon the earth to feed all creation, that is a good gift. If rain falls to feed the earth, that is a good gift. If I am able to wash clothes in an hour and a half instead of a whole day, that is a very good gift.

Suddenly God is all around you, handing you beautiful, unasked for, and unlooked for gifts. Beautiful gifts that bless you more than you could ever know. And all to often we are totally unaware of them, and most importantly, unaware of the Giver of them all.

Gretchen

Repentance & Power

"Those who fear the Lord bear repentance in their hearts." - Proverbs

At first glance, I think most of us would get the wrong idea about this scripture. Somehow, for some reason, when I first think of a person who ''bears repentance in their heart", I get a mental image of a morose, "repentant" individual who is dogged by the awareness of his own failures - despite the fact that that is not how I would otherwise describe a "repentant" person.

What usually doesn't pop into my mind is the word power.

To 'repent' literally means to 'change your mind,' which causes you to change direction - to stop, turn, and retrace your steps. It's an easy thing to repent in words, and it's a grueling thing to repent in deed; in fact, I would go so far as to say that it is practically impossible to repent in deed - to repent for being cross and snappy towards your brother, and then never to do it again.

It would be impossible... were it not for the power of God. The Holy Spirit lives within those who accept the Lord, and He works to do the things that we can't, the things that we desperately need and desperately want (and desperately want to want). If we are living our lives mindful of the things of God, then we live in a continual mindset of repentance, "taking every thought captive to obey Christ." To do this, we must call upon and claim the Power of Yahweh for our help and salvation.

Yet, to my shame, I seldom find that I wake up in the morning and consciously say, "Today, I claim for myself the Power of Christ. I will not live in fear of Sin or the Devil, but I will walk in steadfastness of purpose and spirit, cleaving to the One who can do all things, and the Power that he gave to me when I received His Holy Spirit." And seldom, when I earnestly repent of a sin, do I call this same Power to mind, turn around and walk the opposite way with the Joy that the knowledge of this Power ought to bring.

George Macdonald said it best, "We are and remain such creeping Christians, because we look at ourselves and not at Christ; because we gaze at the marks of our own soiled feet, and the trail of our own defiled garments … having committed a petty fault, I mean a fault such as only a petty creature could commit, we mourn over the defilement to ourselves, and the shame of it before our friends, children, or servants, instead of hastening to make the due confession and amends to our fellow, and then, forgetting our own paltry self with its well-earned disgrace, lift our eyes up to the glory which alone will quicken the true man in us, and kill the peddling creature we so wrongly call our self."

I want to live every day in the Power of God, not the weakness of me. This is the only way to obey the Word and be steadfast in the Faith. For if we remain focused on our own base weaknesses and faults, the despairing knowledge of our frailty will swallow us alive. The Holiness of God is all-consuming. Keeping our eyes unwaveringly fixed upon His Power is the only way to be bearers of that Power ourselves, and to have the Joy that enables us to remain Steadfast.

"May the God of hope bring you such joy and peace in your faith that the power of the Holy Spirit will remove all bounds to hope." - Romans 15:13

Gretchen

Sewing Sunshine

Lately I've been sewing a great deal. It's such a fun, comforting thing. After searching the internet for information on some questions I had, I decided that I should start my own blog about sewing. And thus was born my new blog, Sewing Sunshine. It's just a place where I'll put up things I learn, links, patterns, and all sorts of things. Check it out! http://www.sewingsunshine.blogspot.com

Gretchen

A Peacemaker

When I was little, I always used to think of a Peacemaker as one of two people: first, as a soldier, bringing justice and peace to a country during war, or second, as someone who stops a quarrel. Thus when I read, "Blessed are the peacemakers: they shall be called sons of God," I got this vision in my head of an American soldier standing to attention at the throne of God.

But reading through the book of James, the Holy Spirit has brought to my mind a new picture of a true Peacemaker.

No one who has given their life to God and accepted his Authority and Redemption can doubt that they need Him to give them His Wisdom. So much of the time we try so hard to have it by our own strength, and it takes many, many hard knocks to make us realize that we cannot sum up Wisdom on our own. We must pray, as James says, and ask God to give us that Wisdom which is so priceless, so beautiful, and so rare, that only He has the power to bestow.

"If there is any one of you who lacks wisdom, he must ask God, who gives to all freely and ungrudgingly; it will be given him." (James 1:5)

It is very hard for our small minds to fully believe and trust that God will give Wisdom to us, or that we are even capable of receiving that Wisdom, and yet we must. For James goes on to say these chilling words, "But he must ask with faith, and no trace of doubt, because a person who has doubts is like the waves thrown up in the sea when the wind drives. That sort of person, in two minds, wavering between going different ways, must not expect that the Lord will give him anything." (1:6-8) The wonderful thing is that the beginning of this Wisdom is truly believing, without a hint of doubt, that God will give it to us.

There are many things that the Bible says about the Wisdom that comes from above, but I think that one of the most beautiful passages is James 3:16-17: "Wherever you find jealousy and ambition, you find disharmony, and wicked things of every kind being done; whereas the wisdom that comes down from above is essentially something pure; it also makes for peace, and is kindly and considerate; it is full of compassion and shows itself by doing good, nor is there any trace of partiality or hypocrisy in it."

The Wisdom from Above makes Peace. We, being children of God who are to be filled with His Wisdom, are to be Peacemakers.

When I began to think of a Peacemaker in this way, my first thoughts went back to the Peace that I drew as a little child from my Mama and Daddy. Was not there a deep peace that surpassed your understanding when you climbed into their lap and either cried and were comforted over a trouble, or simply rested in the warmth of their loving embrace? The picture of a Peacemaker is just like this. Someone in whom the peace of God is overflowing, flooding and blessing the lives of those around them.

By the Wisdom that flows to us from our Heavenly Father, we spread Peace everywhere we go, and to everyone we meet. And this Peace leads others to God. Our siblings, parents, children, spouses, and friends all see the Peace that flows from us to everything around us, and that that Peace comes to us from the Lord. They have witnessed first-hand the truth that "Yahweh gives strength to his people, Yahweh blesses his people with peace."

As Peacemakers, we have the chance to plant the seeds that will lead to others' salvation through our deep inner joy and Wisdom. We are indeed sons of God, for we are vessels in which God can dwell in a mighty way. "Peacemakers, when they work for peace, sow the seeds which will bear fruit in holiness." (James 3:18)

"The mind fixed on the Spirit is life and peace."

Gretchen

The Integrity of America

Alright, dear readers, your very, very long wait for a new blog is to be rewarded. I'm sorry it's taken me this long to get something up! This is an essay that I wrote back in the Autumn of last year for a national essay contest put on by The Bill of Rights Institute. Unfortunately, I didn't win the competition, but it was very fun and incredibly educational. The question I had to answer was "What civic value do you believe is most essential to being an American?" After thinking about it a great deal, I decided that undoubtedly the most important civic value to the institution of our country is Integrity. So below is the essay that I composed and submitted to the contest. I hope you enjoy it! Tell me what you think!

Gretchen

The Integrity of America

by Gretchen Wolaver

Integrity is the pivotal value of America. Without it the structure of our society

crumbles. The Founding Fathers desired to design a system replete with liberty,

empowering citizens to pursue happiness without the intrusion of an oppressive

government. They knew that this idea could only be realized if the morality of each

individual was self-imposed, negating the need for excessive government regulations

to maintain justice. A person with strong morals, they believed, would find the will

from within themselves to do what was right.

The Bill of Rights is a potent example of this expectation. Consider the 1st

Amendment: “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or

prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the

press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the

government for a redress of grievances.” Yet the Founding Fathers knew that without

the exercise of personal integrity these freedoms of religion, speech, press, assembly

and petition would be abused.

Modern times have shown them to be right. I have been dismayed at how my

generation exhibits an increasing lack of integrity, especially in light of technological

empowerment. The internet has given my peers the power to broadcast lies about

others, often ruining their lives. Now our courts are attempting to decipher how to

bring justice to this new world of defamation. But how can they regulate something

as gigantic as the worldwide web without marring the First Amendment? This

modern crisis has underscored the importance of personal integrity to me, and has

deepened my resolve to speak out against such slanderous bullying.

Today’s political scene is riddled with slander and deceit as well. I cringe as

the mud flies. The restoration of integrity must begin at the top, with the leaders of

our government, who would do well to look to the Founding Fathers for inspiration.

Consider John Adams, for example, an honest and principled man who played

a momentous role in the founding of our nation. Esteemed for his undaunted pursuit

of integrity, his strength of character and conviction was fully displayed when he

took on the job of defending the British soldiers in the court hearings after the Boston

Massacre. The British sentries had shot and killed five civilians in self defense, but

no lawyer would take their case—none except Adams.

At the time, he was a leading Patriot about to run for public office. Even

though he needed the Patriot vote, he knew that defending the soldiers was the right

thing to do. Adams chose to side with justice and truth over the frenzy of popular

opinion. He not only took on their case, he saved their lives. On the third anniversary

of the Massacre, Adams wrote in his diary that defending the soldiers was “...one of

the most gallant, generous, manly and disinterested Actions of my whole Life, and

one of the best Pieces of Service I ever rendered my Country.” It’s in this same

disinterestedness for his own image that we see Adams’ sense of duty to his nation

over self. He exhibited a self-driven morality that helped to secure a just government

for his posterity, regardless of personal cost or gain.

Some might say that our country’s crucial value is not integrity, but freedom,

or justice. They may say that the Founders built our society upon these values to

secure a country where the tyranny and injustice from which they had suffered would

never happen again. This is a reasonable observation, but I would argue that integrity

must come first. Freedom and justice are rooted in love and respect for mankind.

When a nation’s robes of leadership are worn by hateful and irreverent people,

freedom and justice will increasingly be overcome by litigation, bureaucracy, and

regulation.

When asked what kind of government he and the other Founders had

established, Benjamin Franklin replied, “You have a republic, if you can keep it.” To

sustain this Democratic Republic, we must preserve the same moral standards and

convictions, the same integrity that the Founding Fathers expected of themselves and

of us. It is a constant battle, but one that’s worth fighting. Integrity is vital to the

pursuit of the American dream, to the realization of a nation founded upon truth,

justice, and freedom. As John Adams said, “Our Constitution was made only for a

moral and religious people. It is wholly inadequate to the government of any other.”

Pastries & Pilgrims

Since Monday, we have been staying in a small apartment in the midst of downtown Plymouth, MA. It's quite a quaint, pretty little New England town, and we were all thrilled when we arrived at the location of our week long stay.

The first day was enjoyable, though rather drizzly and wet, with overcast iron gray skies. In the morning we went out running about the park and beach, (I need not bore you with the details of that delightful huffing experience) and spent the rest of the day reading and lazing, at least in my case, others actually worked. Later that evening we went out again because everyone was filled with a severe case of cabin-fever. Thus, walking a few blocks down the road, we found ourselves in my favorite kind of town scenery.

Downtown Plymouth is very pretty. There are stores and bakeries and shops on either side of the brick walkways that bring cheery delight to the onlooker. We perused and window-shopped our way down the sidewalk until we came to a health food store. We being who we are (and Camille being who she is) we made an immediate detour into the comfy interior of the store. While Camille, Alex, and Berklee oohed and aahed over the old-fashioned ginger beer and carab chip bars, I went through the stand of hand-made soaps and smelled the delicious fragrances that wafted up from them. The lavender one especially caught my eye.

I love lavender.

I adore lavender. The smell brings such peace and stillness; it's just lovely.

Alright, back to my story....

For a few days proceeding this walk, I had been in a delicious need for a beautiful used bookstore. Benjamin, my supremely kindred-hearted brother shared my desire. Thus, while the others were taking their time in the health food store, we decided to go on ahead and scout out a bookstore. Surely downtown Plymouth, Massachusetts would have something to curb our literary appetite?

It did. Farther down the brick sidewalk we came upon it. The shelves of dusty old hardback editions filled our hearts with warm happiness. We perused quietly for many minutes before we heard the door open, and the rest of the troop came in.

To cut a long story short, I came out with a beautiful little hard-backed edition of one of my favorite children's books (complete with full-color illustrations. Lucky me!). Alex came out beaming, with a five volume set of John Ruskin's Modern Painters in his arms, which he got for a steal. Benjamin, thanks to my watchful eye, came out with a small, hard-backed edition of a collection of short, out-of-print essays by G.K. Chesterton. Aren't I a good sister?

The joys of our purchases lasted for a few days. But no joys, however blissful, can stand against three long, consecutive days of iron gray clouds, rain, and a small house with nine people squashed into it. And so, yesterday we found ourselves walking listlessly about the house, yearning for a day of sunshine, an escape, an adventure.... ANYTHING to break up the monotonous boredom of cabin-fever mixed with persistent rain.

So after dinner that evening, we all decided to go to a lovely little local bakery, Blue Blinds Bakery, to enjoy some scrumptious treats and live music. Mama, Daddy, and I were the first to leave. We took a stroll down to the ocean to see Plymouth Rock, then wound our way back up to the main street and to the bakery. Taking our coffees and giant cranberry biscotti to a corner table, we experienced the happy comfort of quiet familial conversation. I love my Mama and Daddy.

Soon the rest arrived, and I got to make the rounds of ordered sweets and pick off of everyone else's. Oh the joys of family! The cinnamon rolls were, hands down, the best. There are few things in this beautiful world so scrumptious as an excellent, hot cinnamon roll. Loverly!

We enjoyed a wonderful evening of fellowship with all the kind, generous folks at the bakery. It was a pleasure that I was not expecting, but very thankful for. God is very, very good. We went home that night with our former boredom and cabin fever gone, good memories to take with us, and a giant bag of bakery yummies in our arms.

Gretchen

The Children's Hour

The Children's Hour

by

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Between the dark and the daylight,
When the night is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day's occupations,
That is known as the Children's Hour.

I hear in the chamber above me
The patter of little feet,
The sound of a door that is opened,
And voices soft and sweet.

From my study I see in the lamplight,
Descending the broad hall stair,
Grave Alice, and laughing Allegra,
And Edith with golden hair.

A whisper, and then a silence:
Yet I know by their merry eyes
They are plotting and planning together
To take me by surprise.

A sudden rush from the stairway,
A sudden raid from the hall!
By three doors left unguarded
They enter my castle wall!

They climb up into my turret
O'er the arms and back of my chair;
If I try to escape, they surround me;
They seem to be everywhere.

They almost devour me with kisses,
Their arms about me entwine,
Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen
In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine!

Do you think, o blue-eyed banditti,
Because you have scaled the wall,
Such an old mustache as I am
Is not a match for you all!

I have you fast in my fortress,
And will not let you depart,
But put you down into the dungeon
In the round-tower of my heart.

And there will I keep you forever,
Yes, forever and a day,
Till the walls shall crumble to ruin,
And moulder in dust away!

Perfectly Painful Pilates

Unlike my beautiful, slender sister Camille, I have a hard time fitting exercise into my daily routine. It's not that I don't think it's important.... it's not that I don't think I need it. (HA!) It's just that it slips my mind..... constantly. I will awake, have my morning devotions, jump in the shower, and it's only by the time that I have suds in my hair and am through the second verse of "Oh, What A Beautiful Mornin'!" that I suddenly think, "Wait! I didn't exercise! Oh, darn!" My conscience squirms like a dying fish for a few painful moments, then I wipe the thought from my mind and go on. Because honestly, who in their right mind wants to exercise by the time they're half-way through their shower? Thus, day after day departs, and no physical exertion is achieved.

Camille, on the other hand, treadmills and does exercise videos quite faithfully. But I have another problem here. Through the years of trial and error, I have come to discover that I abhor exercise videos. You memorize them, know them back and front, they enter your mind, you walk around humming the background music until your brain is ready to explode with it, visions of people's face expressions haunt you in your dreams! Plus, you have no one to correct you when you are doing something wrong. Now if you have a mirror you can do better.... but who wants to exercise in front of a mirror? (Dear God, save us from such horror!) So, I have firmly (though subconsciously of course) exneéd videos from my options.

What about treadmills you may ask? Well, they particularly are most definitely out of the question. The name ''treadmill'' is code for ''Slow Death of Aching Boredom". No matter how hard you try to ease the crushing weight of tedious monotony with some music, or a book, the reality of that wicked, cackling clock before your eyes is always there, just calling for you to glance at it one more time and realize that you are only a few seconds farther along than you were the last time you glanced. In a word the treading mill is - Impossible!

Now, what most people do not know, is that Camille feels the same way I do. But she, unlike me, does not allow her personal vendetta against treadmills and exercise videos to get in the way of her journey along the very painful climb to fitness.

One day at about supper time a few weeks ago, she came down the stairs in her exercise clothes. I was standing over the stove, and, looking up briefly, took a quick double take. "Where are you going?" I asked.

"Oh, to a Pilates class."

This was news! I dug further -

"Where?"

"At a place called Simply Pilates. I looked it up, and they have a class tonight at 5:30."

Sneaky, sneaky, sneaky!

And so, that evening Camille skipped out on dinner and went to exercise instead. (Inconceivable!) And while she was inevitably pouring sweat and building muscle, I was pouring myself a glass of apple cider and eating muffins. Oh, how ironic life is! For Camille, you see, actually did something about her monotonous exercise life. I had never even considered taking classes somewhere! She came home a few hours later, drenched in sweat. I looked up from my book. "How was it?"

"Oh! Excruciating!" she panted.

"What? Pilates excruciating?" I asked with an incredulous eyebrow.

She laughed. "Oh, please don't make me laugh!" she said pathetically. "It hurts too much!"

Thus for several days to come I was to hear moans whenever Camille lifted her arms, got up from a chair, walked anywhere, and especially when she laughed for any reason whatever. "Oh, I'm so sore!" was a very frequent comment heard from her lips.

Now, as someone who has only experienced Pilates from a TV screen, I had a hard time believing that it could be that painful. I was used to Pilates videos done by women who were not all that more fit than I, and who spoke in very calm, somewhat annoying baby voices. I was intrigued, to say the least, and my curiosity would allow for only one solution - I must go and experience this Excruciating Pilates Class for myself.

And thus, exactly one week since Camille's first venture, she and I found ourselves on the opposite sidewalk from where the Simply Pilates building stood. We had a few minutes to kill since our brothers had dropped us off early, so we spent our time milling through some cute shops. Italian music drifted to us from an open courtyard pizzeria as we walked and talked. Our conversation consisted mainly of my trying to explain the complex road system of Nashville to her (that is another blog entirely!), but both of our minds were really focused upon the exercise to come. We were excited. It's not every day that you get to experience an Excruciating Pilates Class!

The time finally came, and we crossed the street and entered the blue building. It was everything a Pilates place should be - clean, quiet, small, quaint, with honey-colored wooden floors and slow fans. We sat down on the bench in the front after signing in and waited for our turn to come. The class that was currently going concluded within a few moments, and we went behind some soft vanilla partition hangers to where the machines were. The sight filled me with apprehension.

Who's ever heard of Pilates on machines?

Camille walked confidently up to one and took her place. I, unsure of what I was supposed to be doing, wondered which end of the thing I was supposed to be at. Camille looked at me with a bursting smile on her face; it was obvious that she was trying to conceal her laughter at my confused state.

"You sit there, Gretchen." she said, practically choking.

I gave her a look, and took my place. The class ensued. There were only three of us students and the instructor. He asked us what we especially wanted to work on. I said arms, Camille said back, and the other woman said abs. Between all of our requests we pretty much covered everything anyone could possibly want to work on.

We started out with some wonderful, enjoyable stretches. I thought, "Psh! This isn't all that bad!" And then the instructor said something about moving the tension springs for arm exercises.

"One red and one yellow is easy, one red and one blue is medium, and two reds is hard."

So, what did you think I did? I confidently (and without much thought, really) put my tension bands on two reds. I could feel Camille's eyes on me. I looked over at her, and she, with a still bursting smile on her face, put hers on the same thing. Of course I could not suffer alone! The instructor quite deservedly chuckled at our naivety, and we laid down and began the exercise. I didn't think it was all that bad for the first two or three reps, but when I began to sweat like crazy by the sixth rep, I knew something was wrong. I had never sweat that fast before in any exercise, ever. But I wasn't going to give up yet. By the second exercise I was grunting and was sure that my face looked like a sunburned tomato. Finally, when my distress was at its height, the very wise instructor put both mine and Camille's resistance springs on easy.

And, what do you think? We still couldn't do the exercise. Let's just say that I have no muscle in my triceps whatsoever.

That was the beginning of a very fun, and very eye-opening Pilates workout. We had a great time, and both enjoyed ourselves immensely. It's amazing what a difference exercising with live people, in a quiet, clean environment can do to your opinion on the enjoyability of it!

My abs have never been sorer in my life. I now follow sneezes with the word "Ow!", which is something I'm sure Solomon never considered when he wrote the famous words, "There is nothing new under the sun." But, though sore, I am greatly looking forward to my next Pilates class!

Gretchen

An Old Sweetheart of Mine

An Old Sweetheart of Mine

by James Whitcomb Riley

As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone,
And muses on the faces of the friends that he has known,
So I turn the leaves of fancy till, in shadowy design,
I find the smiling features of an old sweetheart of mine.

The lamplight seems to glimmer with a flicker of surprise,
As I turn it low to rest me of the dazzle in my eyes,
And light my pipe in silence, save a sigh that seems to yoke
Its fate with my tobacco and to vanish with the smoke.

'Tis a fragrant retrospection -- for the loving thoughts that start
Into being are like perfume from the blossom of the heart;
And to dream the old dreams over is a luxury divine --
When my truant fancy wanders with that old sweetheart of mine.

Though I hear, beneath my study, like a fluttering of wings,
The voices of my children, and the mother as she sings,
I feel no twinge of conscience to deny me any theme
When Care has cast her anchor in the harbor of a dream.

In fact, to speak in earnest, I believe it adds a charm
To spice the good a trifle with a little dust of harm --
For I find an extra flavor in Memory's mellow wine
That makes me drink the deeper to that old sweetheart of mine.

A face of lily-beauty, with a form of airy grace,
Floats out of my tobacco as the genii from the vase;
And I thrill beneath the glances of a pair of azure eyes
As glowing as the summer and as tender as the skies.

I can see the pink sunbonnet and the little checkered dress
She wore when first I kissed her and she answered the caress
With the written declaration that, as surely as the vine
Grew round the stump, she loved me -- that old sweet heart of mine.

And again I feel the pressure of her slender little hand,
As we used to talk together of the future we had planned --
When I should be a poet, and with nothing else to do
But write the tender verses that she set the music to:

When we should live together in a cozy little cot
Hid in a nest of roses, with a fairy garden-spot,
Where the vines were ever fruited, and the weather ever fine,
And the birds were ever singing for that old sweetheart of mine:

When I should be her lover forever and a day,
And she my faithful sweetheart till the golden hair was gray;
And we should be so happy that when either's lips were dumb
They would not smile in Heaven till the other's kiss had come.

But, ah! my dream is broken by a step upon the stair,
And the door is softly opened, and -- my wife is standing there;
Yet with eagerness and rapture all my visions I resign

To greet the living presence of that old sweetheart of mine.

Yummy Comforts

When my sister and her husband traveled back from their honeymoon, they came bearing gifts (to our great joy). They gave me and Camille two handy, cute little cookbooks that they had found in one of the gift shops at the Biltmore Mansion. Mine is a book of bread pudding and dessert recipes (they know me so well!). Camille's book contains recipes that are sweetened solely with honey, maple syrup, or sorghum - definitely the perfect cookbook for her.

The recipe below is from the 'Honey' section of her book. I made it the other day when I was feeling domestic.... and hungry. It was amazing! So, if you have time, and feel inclined, try out this yummy honey loaf.

Gretchen

Honey-Nut Loaf Bread
(Quick Bread)

2 1/2 cups flour
2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt
1 egg, beaten
3/4 cup honey
1 cup milk
1/2 tsp. vanilla extract
2 Tbs. butter, melted
1/2 cup chopped nuts

In a large mixing bowl sift together flour, baking powder, soda and salt. Set aside. In a separate bowl beat egg and honey with milk and vanilla. Stir in melted butter. Gradually stir liquid mixture into flour mixture. Fold in nuts. Place dough in a greased 9 x 5-inch loaf pan. Bake in 350 F. oven 35-40 minutes.

A Problem of Salad

I close the laptop screen and inwardly scream, "Gretchen, you lazy bum, get up and do something productive!" (I have found that such thoughts are the fruit of Summer drowsiness)

I look at the clock, and my horizons suddenly brighten. It is 11:15 - the perfect time to eat lunch! I get up from my chair and practically skip into the kitchen. "Camille! Come fix lunch with me and eat!" I shout with my head in the refrigerator.

Camille, with her head in the computer screen (doing something very productive, like writing her new blog) calls back, "I'll be there in a minute. I want to finish this first!"

"Oh," I think to myself, "Camille doesn't know what really matters in life. Poor girl. Poor, poor girl."

Despite myself, I had been affected by Camille's daily afternoon salad routine, and thus the spinach leaves are out in a jiffy. The following five to ten minutes are filled by a discussion like the following -

Gretchen - "Do we have any avocados?"

Camille - "Yeah. They should be in the bowl on the counter."

Gretchen - "Oh, I see them now."

A moment passes -

Gretchen - "Do you want avocado on yours?"

Camille - "Yes."

Gretchen - "Do you want me to make yours?"

Camille - "No."

Gretchen - "Why not?"

Camille - "I want it to be small."

........ WELL!!

Gretchen - "Alright. I'm leaving the stuff out for you."

Camille (very tranquil) - "Okay."

A few moments pass -

Gretchen - "The boiled egg is kind of blue, but it's still good. Do you want some?"

Camille - "Yeah, that's fine."

.......

Gretchen - "Do you want cranberries and almonds on yours?"

Camille - "Uh-huh."

As I continue my preparations, sounds of typing float from the Den. Poor Camille. I sprinkle feta cheese crumbles on the top of my salad. It looks amazing! I inwardly pat myself on the back - "Good job, Gretchen! You can make yourself a salad with no help! This is a great day!"

I poke my head into the refrigerator and proceed to knock jugs and cartons around, searching.

My muffled voice comes to Camille from the kitchen.

"Camille?"

"Yes?"

"Are we out of Briana's Bleu Cheese Dressing?"

"Yes."

The bomb has fallen. My hopes are dashed..... Without the dressing my salad is NOTHING!! MEANS NOTHING!! IS NOTHING!!! WHY!!!!!!

I shut the refrigerator - my heart in my shoes. "Camille?" I call plaintively... weakly, "What am I going to do?"

"There are other dressings in there."

No! She doesn't understand! What are Ranch, Thousand Island, or Italian to Briana's Bleu Cheese Dressing? What?

Camille calls again, "There is a recipe for Bleu Cheese Dressing in the Healthy Cookbook in the cabinet."

....It's not Briana's, but maybe I am saved.

Ten minutes later, I have a small bowl of ''salad dressing'' before me. It consists of - 1 C. plain yogurt, 1/2 C. buttermilk, 1/2 C. bleu cheese crumbles. I whisk, taste, and wrinkle my nose in disgust. I take it to Camille.

"Does this taste anything like bleu cheese dressing to you?" I ask her.

She tastes, and grimaces. "No! Not a bit!"

The dressing goes down the garbage disposal. The fruit flies are beginning to gather.... I am running out of time.... my salad is waiting.... WHAT AM I GOING TO DO??? If i was Camille I would put some hummus, or cream cheese spread on top to make the salad palatable, or just go with nothing at all. But am I Camille? NO! I will not stoop to such tactics! What is my last resort?

I sigh and open the fridge. It meets my eye................ Ranch. It calls to me in an eerie voice of salad dressing, "I am your last resort... do you want crunchy, dressing-less salad? Of course not! HA!" A wicked laugh drifts from the bottle, but there is no other choice........ I drizzle the creamy white stuff over my once beautiful, fresh salad, and sit down at the kitchen table to eat my previous glory.

Camille walks into the kitchen, "Will you read my new blog after lun...." She stops, staring at the filthy, attacked, mangled counter. "You didn't make mine?"

Gretchen