Chapter 11 is titled “Creative Recreation,” and I have to admit it rubbed me the wrong way in spots.
I like what Edith said in the beginning:
Creative recreation, in my personal definition, can be thought of in two ways. Firstly, it is recreation which produces creative results, stimulates creativity, refreshes one ideas and stirs one to “produce.” Secondly, it is recreation which is the result of original ideas, creative because someone has creatively planned an evening, a day, an occupation which in itself is fresh and different (p. 165).
No argument there.
People differ so tremendously in what recreation does for them that one could not give hard and fast rules as to what would stimulate creativity (p. 165).
Very much agree there.
My problem comes when she expresses her opinion that this is best done by getting away from everything and getting back to nature, and she gives various ways to do that.
I have never been an outdoorsy girl, not even since early childhood. My mom would have to “make” me go outside to play. Since we’ve had children, yes, we’ve played in the park, gone camping, had various forays to the beach, the lake, etc., and we’ve had some fun family times. But I can’t say that any of them, for me, served to “produce creative results, stimulate creativity, refresh one ideas and stir one to ‘produce.'” So the pages and pages of that just fell flat to me and even irritated me a little bit. I did feel very rested after one extended trip to the beach at a during a spring break when our school was on break on a different week than other area schools, and we had most of the place to ourselves. But most of my forays into nature are something I “endure” rather than something that produces creativity.
In various parts of the book she has used the word “plastic” a lot to refer to modern life, but here she takes it to new heights, even saying that “natural” fabrics give us more of a feel “of interacting with or relating to nature” because when we wear wool we think of sheep grazing, when we wear linen we think of flax growing, etc. Seriously? I admit I like cotton, but I don’t think of fields of cotton when I am wearing it. My husband has worked in the textile industry for most of his career, dealing mostly with fibers that result from petroleum manufacturing (which can be a pretty fascinating process). I guess you could say even that is “natural” in a way, though Edith probably would not, but I am not necessarily thinking about that when I appreciate my mixed blend of fibers which causes me not to have to iron my clothes.
I do agree with the need for conservationism, to “get away from it all” sometimes, etc., but I appreciate the conveniences of modern life too much to have much criticism of it. And I think even people who are more critical of it use a lot more of it than they think.
But enough of that.
I did like the section on the second part of her definition, “recreation which is the result of original ideas,” and her description of Treasure Hunt meals. And I agree that there are things we can do to foster or to kill creativity (or at least allow it to lay dormant), and it is better to do the former.
So, this has ended up being my least favorite chapter so far. I wish she had explored some other avenues of stimulating creativity. I would have to say that activities for me that do that are more likely to be reading, going to craft shows or stores, perusing Pinterest, even working on things with other people and being stimulated by their ideas.
Updated to add: Just to clarify, I’m not anti-nature. I can be inspired by and instructed by it and see God’s glory in it, even with the after-effects of man’s fall in it. It just doesn’t fit in with Edith’s description of creative recreation for me and I was frustrated that that’s the only avenue of creative recreation she discussed.
Five missionaries working in different outposts in Ecuador in the early to mid-1950s became burdened for a tribe of killers known then as the Aucas. Early encounters with the white man had not gone well when the rubber hunters came to harvest while also “plundering and burning the Indian homes, raping, torturing, and enslaving the people” (p. 14). But the Aucas killed not only white men, but any outsiders and even their own people. “Could Christian love wipe out the memories of past treachery and brutality?” (p. 14). The missionaries hoped so and longed to be a part of reaching this tribe with the love and gospel of Christ. Upheld by the truth that “Thou wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood out of every kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation” (Revelation 5:9b), they began to plan and strategize as to how best to reach these hostile people.
Through Gates of Splendorby Elisabeth Elliot is the story of how these five men came to the Lord, came to be called to the mission field, their marriages, and how each was led to become part of “Operation Auca.” It’s no spoiler to say the operation ended in the death of the five, because that fact was known long before the book came to be and was probably a great impetus in it’s writing. But then it is not right, either, to say that is how Operation Auca ended, because God used it in the lives of the Aucas themselves as well as of people all over the world in the decades since. But knowing how the story “ends” lends a poignancy to the men’s lives and words.
The five men were:
Nate Saint, a brilliant pilot whose dreams of flying the big planes was cut short by an illness, but who went on to become a pilot for Missionary Aviation Fellowship, bringing much-needed supplies, human contact, and medical help to missionaries in outpost stations. He had an ingenious engineer’s mind which he used to great effect solving problems and improving life, and a healthy balance between doing everything in his power to ensure success and safety yet trusting God for the outcome.
Jim Elliot, from Portland, OR, intense and passionate, had a burning desire to share Christ with those who had never heard of Him, yet also had a humorous side and felt with George MacDonald that “It is the heart that is not yet sure of its God that is afraid to laugh in His presence” (p. 17).
Pete Fleming, from Seattle, WA, quiet, studious, would probably have been a college professor if he had not felt called to the mission field.
Roger Youderian, of Louistown, MT, severely affected by polio as a child, was called to the missionary field while serving in the military.
Ed McCully, from Milwaukee, WI, was planning to go to law school when a Bible study led him to abandon all to follow Christ wherever he might lead.
Even before Operation Auca was even remotely thought about, most of the men were willing to give themselves even unto death. Jim wrote in his journal:
“‘He makes His ministers a flame of fire.’ Am I ignitible? God deliver me from the dread asbestos of ‘other things.’ Saturate me with the oil of the Spirit that I may be a flame. But flame is transient, often short-lived. Canst thou bear this my soul – short life? In me there dwells the Spirit of the Great Short-Lived, whose zeal for God’s house consumed Him. ‘Make me Thy fuel, Flame of God.'” (p. 17).
Nate Saint, likewise, considered himself “expendable,” saying, “Every time I take off, I am ready to deliver up the life I owe to God” (p. 58), and Pete later wrote:
“I am longing now to reach the Aucas if God gives me the honor of proclaiming the Name among them…I would gladly give my life for that tribe if only to see an assembly of those proud, clever, smart people gathering around the table to honor the Son – gladly, gladly, gladly! What more could be given to a life?” (p. 26).
All of the wives, as well, were willing to live in “primitive” conditions and to be used in God’s service in whatever way He saw fit.
But they were not careless. Every step of Operation Auca was steeped in thought, discussion, sometimes disagreement, and prayer for the best outcome for all involved. And every step looked like it was going well.
What then led the Aucas then to kill the five men? When God opened the tribe to visits later, at first they said it was because they thought the men might be cannibals. In a later book I believe someone was told that the photographs the missionaries had scared them: they thought somehow it involved the soul of the person in the photograph. In Steve Saint’s more recent book, End of the Spear, he was told that an argument had broken out among the Auca men involving a woman, and one man wanted to prevent the bloodshed amongst the tribe and turned their anger towards the white men. It is possible that all of these factors played a part, or that as the Aucas (now known by their own name of Waodani [going by Steve’s spelling of it since he has worked with them for years, but I have also seen it as Huaorani or Waorani]) got to know white people and their language better, they may have felt more of a freedom of expression in later years that they did at first.
I first read this book in college, and the lives of these men and their wives and their dedication and love for the Lord touched me greatly. I have read it many times since, and it never fails to speak to me. The version I read this time is the same one I read in college, a brown around the edges 1977 fifth printing: the first printing was in 1956. It was interesting to see what I had underlined in previous readings and what stood out to me this time. It also touched off a lifetime of reading missionary biographies, reading just about everything Elisabeth Elliot has written and reading several other books about Operation Auca and the lives of those involved.
If you’d like to read more about any of these, I recommend the following:
The Dayuma Story by Rachel Saint, sister of pilot Nate Saint. Dayuma was the Auca girl who had escaped the tribe years earlier, taught the men Auca phrases, and later went back to share the gospel with her tribe.
The Savage My Kinsman by Elisabeth Elliot about her years of working with the Aucas after Jim’s death.
Unfolding Destinies by Olive Fleming Liefeld, widow of Pete Fleming.
End of the Spear by Steve Saint, Nate’s son. If you don’t read any others, I’d recommend this one as it is a more recent book and a fuller account of the events then and since, plus it is just plain good reading.
I’m sure there are other books and biographies out there (I have one of Nate Saint on my bookshelf that I’ve not read yet). but these are the ones I have read. In addition, Elisabeth Elliot touches on the experiences of her time in the Ecuadorian jungle in several of her other books. One of my favorites is in The Savage My Kinsman when she quotes William Cullen Bryant’s poem, “To a Waterfowl,” and applies it to herself, especially the last line: “He, who, from zone to zone, Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, In the long way that I must tread alone, Will lead my steps aright.”
There are also several films and film clips of interest:
Through Gates of Splendor, narrated by Elisabeth Elliot, using footage that she, Nate Saint, and Life Magazine had taken.
A “This Is Your Life” feature of Rachel Saint, part 1 and 2.
Beyond the Gates of Splendor, a documentary made 50 years after the events. This is one I would recommend above all the others if you only have time for one. It is in four parts on Vimeo (Part 1, 2, 3, and 4), but I found the audio a bit hard to hear.
I wanted to say just a word, too, to those who criticize missionary efforts and who believe that primitive tribes should be left as they are. By the Waodani’s own admission, the tribe probably would have become extinct now if someone had not come to tell them of a better way of life. Why would anyone want to deny them that? In Spirit of the Rainforest (different people and field, but also a primitive tribe) this rather lengthy quote explains some of their feelings (I started just to link to it, but I feel it is so important that I copied it here):
“The naba wants to know why you want to change the way you live out here in the jungle,” Keleewa said to Hairy after Doesn’t-Miss talked.
Hairy was surprised at the question. “Because we’re miserable out here. We are miserable all the time. The people from Honey [predominantly Christian village] came here and made peace with us many seasons ago and their village keeps getting better. We want that for us. If it means throwing spirits away and getting new ones, we will do it. [This is not something said lightly. Many were under the impression that they would be killed if they tried to get rid of their spirits.] But we need someone to teach us these new ways.”
Hairy didn’t have spirits because he was not a shaman. But he followed everything the spirits told his shaman. I knew my spirits would be very irritated if Hairy quit following the spirits. No one who has killed as often and as long s Hairy could ever stop it…
Doesn’t Miss talked with Keleewa for a while. Keleewa paused and thought how to say what the naba said. Then he told Hairy, “He says there are many people in his land that don’t think that he, or any of us, should be here helping you at all. They say that you’re happy here and that we should leave you alone. He wants to know what an experienced killer like you would say to them.”
Hairy grew even more serious. “I say to you, please don’t listen to the people who say that. We need help so bad. We are so miserable here and out misery never stops. Night and day it goes on. Do those people think we don’t suffer when bugs bite us? If they think this is such a happy place out here in the jungle, why aren’t they moving here to enjoy this beautiful life with us?”
Doesn’t-Miss was quiet. Then he got out of his hammock and walked down the trail…When he was too far away to hear, Hairy said to Keleewa, “Is he stupid? Doesn’t he have eyes? Can’t he see these lean-tos we call houses? Can’t he see us roam the jungle every day, searching for food that isn’t here, so we can starve slower? Can’t he see that our village is almost gone, that this move we are making now is our last hope to stay alive?”
Keleewa was slow to answer. He knew Hairy wouldn’t understand what he was about to say. “Most nabas think just like him,” Keleewa told Hairy, and shook his head because he knew he couldn’t explain why.
“Nobody’s that stupid,” Hairy snapped. “They must hate us. They think we’re animals” (pp. 180-183).
Why would even any non-Christian want to see a whole people group extinguished due to infighting or disease? Especially these days when we clamor to save the spotted owl and other endangered species? Shouldn’t endangered people be at least equally as important as endangered animals?
Would anyone in their right minds really want such practices as burying a widow along with her husband or killing twins or deformed babies to continue? So many primitive tribes practice these kinds of things.
Why deny these people the choice of hearing that there are other ways? Why not allow them to hear the gospel and let them make their own choice? So many who bask in the multitudes of freedoms we have here in the US would rather keep people like this in darkness in the name of preserving their culture. Most missionaries I know of these days consciously and conscientiously try not to “Americanize” the native churches but rather try to respect their culture and form churches within that culture while introducing healthier ways of living and civil practices. Who could possibly have a problem with that?
Thank you, Carrie, for allowing me to choose this book for the Reading to Know Book Club in a year of featuring classics. It truly is a Christian and a missionary classic, and I am glad folks are revisiting it or discovering it for the first time.
I’ll leave you with the song the men sang the night before they launched “Operation Auca,” and from which the title of the book is taken (words and thoughts are here.)
(This will also be linked to Semicolon‘s Saturday Review of Books.)
I didn’t think I would get much out of this chapter. I have little if any ability in regard to acting anything out. I remember one night at church when I was a child and we were supposed to be acting out a scene from the Bible where people were mourning (I think maybe the widow in the New Testament whose son had died whom Jesus raised to life). We either had veils or handkerchiefs – I remember all that showed for us “mourners” was our eyes, and I couldn’t stop giggling, but that left me red-faced and teary, so I suppose it had the same effect. 🙂 I tried maybe once doing a skit in college and was miserable at it. It’s hard for me to keep a straight face even when as a family we are trying to surprise or put something over on someone.
I also wasn’t sure how Edith would incorporate drama into home life. I can see its use in the church or in Christian ministry, but in the home, at first the only application I could think of was in reading aloud to children. And that’s primarily what she talked about, though she ventured into some discussions of the value of reading books, different types of books to read, etc.
Some of my favorite times with my children when they were young were when I read stories out loud to them, and though I’m not great at doing different voices for different characters, I made an attempt and also tried to convey the different emotions of what we were reading. I agree with much of she she said when one has young children, but if no one is interested as they all get older, if no one besides Mom would enjoy reading a book aloud together, then there is not much else one can do with that, at least until grandchildren come along. The Christian school where we used to live they did have moms and grandmothers come for class library times to read stories aloud for the elementary classes instead of the librarian always doing that.
I’m surprised she didn’t venture into other areas that could use dramatic talent. One family in a former church had a mom who was very dramatic, and she was frequently asked to take on a character for cantatas or dramatic productions at church, and she and various members of her family were involved in a local community theater: she was the White Witch in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, and I think one of her daughters was Lucy, and the whole family as well as several church members enjoyed seeing them do that. I think of Little Women and the various plays they put on, little puppets, even finger puppets, that we used with our children, pretending their stuffed animals were speaking to them or acting something out, etc. At lot of their play involved acting our various scenarios: school, church, etc.
There are various ways to incorporate drama into family life, even for those of us who don’t necessarily have any latent dramatic longings such as she describes in the first few paragraphs. It can definitely be used for fun, but even reading the Bible aloud can and should be done, yet not overdone, with feeling rather than in a deadpan monotone.
So I did end up having my imagination sparked and getting more out of this chapter than I thought I would.
The folks at 5 Minutes For Books host What’s On Your Nightstand? the fourth Tuesday of each month in which we can share about the books we have been reading and/or plan to read.
It’s months like these when the fourth Tuesday occurs when there are several days of the month left that tend to throw me, but thankfully I did remember. It’s been a busy month (seems like I always say that…) with two sets of company, but I did get some reading in.
Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spyby Eric Metaxas. I finished listening to the audiobook but I was going through the Kindle version as well (both were on sale around the same time) to highlight some things, and have not finished that yet. Hope to get my thoughts together for a review soon.
The Merchant’s Daughter by Melanie Dickerson, based loosely on Beauty and the Beast, reviewed here. Liked this one very much.
The Duet by Robert Elmer, about two older people who are complete opposites in many ways but are attracted to each other, reviewed here. Not wowed by it, but it was pleasant.
Possibly The Wind in the Willows for Carrie’s Reading to Know Book Club for July. I saw a video of it some time ago that I didn’t really care for, but that may not be the story’s fault. I might give it a try.
After that, I’m not sure, but I have a few books stacked on my Nightstand and scores downloaded into my Kindle app to choose from.
In The Duet by Robert Elmer, Gerrit Appeldoorn is a widower who is supposed to be retired from his dairy farm in the primarily Dutch community of Van Dalen, Washington. But he struggles trying to figure out what he is supposed to do with himself, especially when his son, who has taken over the farm, fusses at him every time he tries to do any of his old chores.
One day he meets his granddaughter’s new piano teacher, widow Joan Horton, and is instantly attracted. Their many differences cause sparks to fly at first: he is staunchly Calvinistic and opinionated, has rarely been outside Van Dalen, and spent most of his life with mud on his boots. She is a Nazarene, citified, not Dutch, refined, a world traveler, on her way to becoming a department head in her university.
In addition, each faces various problems with a son and a major crisis.
I had picked this up because I loved Robert Elmer’s Wildflowers of Terezin (linked to my review) and wanted to check out another of his books. This one has its sweet moments, and I love when a love story involves someone other than the young, svelte, and beautiful, but I didn’t like it quite as well as Wildflowers. Maybe that’s because I found nothing in Gerrit that was appealing to me except his relationship with his granddaughter. But it was a pleasant read and one I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend.
(This will also be linked to Semicolon‘s Saturday Review of Books.)
I’m a little late reading and discussing it this week because we had family here until yesterday, but this is one chapter I did not want to miss.
I’ve enjoyed writing since I was very young: poetry as a child and teen-ager, various journals (which I am grieved to say I threw away in my teens), letters, a handful of magazine articles, a few magazine columns, several years’ worth of monthly newsletters for a church ladies’ group, and a nearly 7 year old blog. I’ve always enjoyed expressing myself in that way, and find I can think things through more easily by writing about them. It’s hard to work through a swirling tangle of thoughts, and by writing I can take a strand at a time, pin it down, and then sort through them all.
I’ve often wondered if God might have something more for me to do with writing. For years I’ve had a desire to write a book, but I don’t know if that’s just a personal ambition or something from the Lord. Edith encouraged me by saying, “Writing for the enjoyment of expression – like music or painting – does not need an audience of more than one,” and “If you simply love to write and want to do it, my advice is write. But write without ambitious pride, which makes you feel it is a ‘waste’ to write what will never be published. Write to communicate to someone, even if it is literally only one person. It is not a waste to write beautiful prose or poetry for one person’s eyes alone! (p. 136).
She mentions several homey ways to write: notes in lunchboxes, cards, letters, writing out our prayers and praises to God, etc. She challenges us to write not just for people whose views are similar to our own. I love her description of trying to “formulate something in writing which will give them the feeling that they have been spending the evening with you, toasting their toes at the same fireplace with a pot of steaming tea by their sides while you have talked earnestly to them” (pp. 137-138).
She encourages us, too, that not everything we write will be a “masterpiece,” or “accomplish its purpose, and more than each meal is going to be the ‘perfect meal’ or each painting the ‘perfect painting,'” but each time we write we can do so “in a way which comes across as giving of oneself” (p. 140).
I received a thoughtful, handwritten thank you note this morning, a treasure in this electronic age, and can enjoy the reading of it over and over and the remembrance of my friend and our time together. Some of my treasures are letters, especially those from my mom, who did not write much (she preferred calling to writing), especially now that she has passed on. I have little from my maternal grandmother, who dies when I was four, besides two handwritten recipes, another treasure.
I was reminded, while reading this chapter, that Laura Ingalls Wilder and other writers didn’t start until later in life, and that she wrote magazine columns before books. That encourages me that sometimes things that have to be left on the back burner are more flavorful for their time there. Isobel Kuhn, a very expressive writer, began by writing “circular letters” of the people they ministered to in China for their supporters, lively descriptions rather than bare-faced facts and figures, and out of that grew her writing of several books. That encourages me that writing “where we are” can develop the skills for a wider audience later.
So I am encouraged and refocused, to write as unto Him, to write as giving of myself, to write to encourage others, to write earnestly so as to make the other feel they’re right beside me, and to trust Him for leading, guidance, and grace to write in whatever venues He provides.
And I am so very glad God communicated to us through writing, through the written Word and the Living Word.
The story involves a star graduate from Swanburne Academy for Poor Bright Females, Penelope Lumley, age fifteen, who is taking up her first assignment as a governess. Her charges are unusual: two boys and a girl with somewhat…canine tendencies, having been raised by wolves. Lord Ashton found them, but Lady Ashton is less than pleased.
Penelope is up for the challenge, which has its various ups and downs, along with several mysteries: How did the children come to be living alone in the woods? What happened to Penelope’s own parents? Why does Old Timothy, trusted servant and coachman, seem to be lurking about when Penelope is outside with the children?
The writing is a delight, with the quirky flavor of the Lemony Snicket and Mysterious Benedict Society books and an abundance of colorful similes, odd sayings of Swanburne’s founder (“If it were easy to resist, it would not be called chocolate cake”), amusing asides, and references to Dickens and Sherlock Holmes.
Katherine Kellgren’s reading brought the book wonderfully to life, with a variety of accents and tones for the different characters.
I’m hooked, even though it is technically a children’s book (but then, some of the best books adults love are children’s books, e.g, Narnia, Anne of Green Gables. etc). I already checked out the second book from the library.
(This will also be linked to Semicolon‘s Saturday Review of Books.)
Once again Edith emphasizes that in this area as in all others, we have to balance time, money, energy, and priorities, and there will be times when food has to take a back seat to other things going on. But God has created a variety of foods that are both nutritious and beautiful to look at and has given us the taste buds, sense of smell, and eyes to enjoy them. She has some interesting observations on the manna that God provided the Israelites with during their travels in the wilderness, and notes that God could have made all food like that – nutritious compact packets – but that was just temporary “traveling food,” and for all the rest of time He’s allowed a great variety to enjoy.
Food is a major aspect of hospitality, and she emphasizes that the people Jesus said to include are not just old friends or people we’re trying to impress, but also “the least of these.”
I have to admit that I am relieved that this chapter is not what I thought it was going to be. I remember learning how to make radish roses in a high school Home Ec. class and thinking it was such a waste. She is not talking about providing extravagant meals or elaborate garnishes, but enjoying simple food prepared and offered with the simple artistry of a variety of colors, shapes, and textures. Although my husband appreciates the effort behind a nice meal, I think he would much rather have something simple and peaceful than something that takes hours and wears and stresses me out.
On the other hand, Edith describes a tramp coming to her door to ask for food, and instead of reluctantly thrusting whatever was at hand out the door at him, she made him a tasty and nice-looking sandwich and soup on a tray complete with flowers. Those little touches and efforts can convey, “You matter, and I care.”
Food cannot take care of spiritual, psychological and emotional problems, but the feeling of being loved and cared for, the actual comfort of the beauty and flavour of food, the increase of blood sugar and physical well-being, help one to go on during the next hours better equipped to meet the problems (p. 124).
One of the most well-known quotes about Edith herself, though I don’t know the source, is “As many people were brought to the Lord through Mrs. Schaeffer’s cinnamon buns as through Dr. Schaeffer’s sermons!”
I confessed some years ago that I don’t really like to cook a lot of the time, but I like to eat, and they sort of go together. 🙂 I recognize that it is a ministry to my family and part of my job description, and once I get going I’m ok with it. I just usually dislike having to stop whatever else I am involved in to go make dinner, but we all have to do things like that. I’m sure my husband doesn’t feel like going to work every day, either, but thankfully he does.
In discussing the last chapters, I’ve showed pictures of things I am pleased with: this time I am going to show you some of my epic fails, because I have had more of those in cooking than anything else. Enjoy. 🙂
One day I posted just this picture with the title “This is how my day has been going.” That was supposed to be for a ladies’ function at church the same night, so I had to come up with a plan B. I did dig the rest of the cake out of the pan, put it on the platter, covered it with glaze, and we enjoyed it as a family. It did taste good even if it didn’t look so good!
These were supposed to be little Muppet-looking cupcakes, but the runny green icing made them look like baby swamp monsters.
And then there was the green gravy. One day years ago I was trying to make gravy that wasn’t turning as brown as I wanted it to. I had heard somewhere that mixing red and green make brown, so I added a few drops of red and green food coloring into the gravy. It turned green, and no amount of added red food coloring drops would change it to any other color. That time, instead of crying into my gravy, I started laughing hysterically until my husband came to see what was going on. But I couldn’t eat it. The strange greenish color was revolting. (I rarely make gravy, but these days I eat it whatever color it ends up being.)
And then there was the time I reached for the cinnamon instead of the chili powder for chili mac. That turned out….interestingly. And the time I accidentally grabbed baking soda instead of corn starch for teriyaki – that made it foam like a science fair volcano. I scooped out the foam and tried to rectify it, but it was still so salty that we were drinking fluids all evening to counterbalance the extra sodium in our systems, and my husband can’t eat my teriyaki to this day.
Thankfully I’ve had more successes than failures, and though I’m not the best cook in the world, my family likes it enough to keep coming back for more, and we appear to be relatively healthy. 🙂
It’s the story of Annabel Chapman in the England of 1352, whose merchant father has died and whose proud family refuses the duty of every villager to work in the lord’s fields. As punishment, someone from her family is required to be his servant for three years, and Annabel offers herself for that position.
Lord Ranulf le Wyse is said to have a very short temper and to have some sort of deformity, making him repulsive to look upon and frightening to Annabel, but she soon discovers a different side to him.
Meanwhile, the bailiff, old enough to be her father and disgusting, has set his sights on her. Unfortunately, her duties at the lord’s house bring her into more contact with him, and even worse, her brother has given the man permission to pursue her.
Annabel feels the only way to both escape the bailiff and have access to the Bible she longs to read for herself is to escape to a nunnery as soon as her servitude is over, but when the opportunity arises, she questions that desire.
This story is based loosely on Beauty and the Beast, so of course I knew where it was ultimately going, but that was actually fun, to see how it corresponded to the fairy tale. It is a realistic retelling, though – no magic wands or spells – but I enjoyed that.
Probably my favorite parts involved Annabel being asked to read the Bible to Lord le Wyse since she is one of the few people in his household who can read Latin. Reading the Bible for herself (not everyone had one: even the local priest did not) has been one of her lifelong desires, and it’s a joy to watch her pore over it and discover its treasures for herself, stopping in her reading to ponder what it says.
This book was a pleasant companion on a recent “sick day,” and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I’m looking forward to checking out Melanie’s other books.
Here’s the book trailer for The Merchant’s Daughter:
Updated: I just discovered that the Kindle edition of this book is on sale for a limited time at $2.99. You don’t have to have a Kindle to get deals on Kindle books: they have apps for computer, tablets, and phones.
(This will also be linked to Semicolon‘s Saturday Review of Books.)
Chapter 7 focuses on flower arrangements, and Edith reiterates that one need not become an “expert” or go to great expense or study to incorporate the principals she discusses. She mainly discusses centerpieces, arguing that at the table there “should be something to bring realization, a warmth of knowing that someone has taken thought and put some originality into preparing the place where food and conversation are going to be shared” (p. 100).
She argues that this should be done even when it is just the family at table or when one is alone, that it shouldn’t wait for “company.” “There is a ‘togetherness’ in sharing a prepared table that even very small children feel, although they cannot express it verbally. Instead of saying, ‘Oh, it doesn’t matter, it’s only the children,’ when you are alone with children for a meal, it is important to say the opposite to yourself. ‘I wonder what the children would enjoy most.'” (p. 104).
And centerpieces don’t even have to be flowers: she lists several suggestions using shells, mirror, candles, etc.
I have to admit that although I agree with what she says, we have never used centerpieces at the dining table. There just isn’t room. When passing food around at dinner, I think everyone here would rather be able to do so easily without having to work around something decorative in the middle. Our usual “centerpiece” is a cute napkin holder and the salt and pepper shakers. I do like to use nice tablecloths on holidays, but most of the time we use the table all through the day for other purposes, and I don’t want to have to keep moving a centerpiece in and out of the way.
But I do have artificial flower arrangements in several rooms and think they are a great way to add color and brightness. I have a couple of “wall pockets” for the front door where I can toss in a few seasonal flowers.
And I like to get fresh flowers every now and then, especially in winter when there is nothing much growing and I long for some color and beauty. But even a few flowers from something outside in a vase on the windowsill is a nice touch.
One good point she makes is that people tend to send an overabundance of flowers when a person is in the hospital, but then nothing during a long recuperation, so she suggests sending one simple flower or arrangement (not big expensive florist’s concoctions) each week or so to cheer the convalescent.
One of my favorite quotes so far in the book which could be a theme for the whole book is this:
“If you have been afraid that your love of beautiful flowers and the flickering flame of the candle is somehow less spiritual than living in starkness and ugliness, remember that He who created you to be creative gave you the things with which to make beauty and the sensitivity to appreciate and respond to His creation” (p. 109).
Although I don’t do centerpieces at home, I’ve enjoyed trying to come up with something unusual for our annual Ladies’ Luncheons for several years in our former church, and I thought you might enjoy seeing some of those. I looked for something unusual for two reasons: for one, I am not that skilled at flower arranging. Years ago a friend who had a florist shop in her home taught me how to do bud vases and corsages and hired me when she was super-busy, but I could never manage bigger arrangements. She could toss something together in 15 minutes that look gorgeous, and I could get the major flowers in ok, but agonized over filling it in. It took me forever and never looked right. The second reason was just that I liked to do something different each year rather than a water bowl with floating candles or flowers in it every single year. So, here are a few things we came up with:
The theme of this one was “A Perfect Heart” from Psalm 101:2b: “I will walk within my house with a perfect heart.” The favors around the centerpiece had that verse as well as a little house with a heart on the front door, and the centerpiece was a covered cardboard box made to look like a house with a potted petunia in the center.
I don’t remember the exact name for the theme for this one, but the program centered around a one-woman interpretation of one of my all-time favorite books, Evidence Not Seen by Darlene Deibler Rose. We chose the rose, of course, because the author’s last name is Rose, and gold because of the overarching theme of faith in her life (I Peter 1:7: “That the trial of your faith, being much more precious than of gold that perisheth, though it be tried with fire, might be found unto praise and honour and glory at the appearing of Jesus Christ.”) One of my favorite things about this one was the gold curlicues – they had been red and we spray painted them gold.
The theme of this one was ““The Heart of the Matter” from I Peter 3:3-4: “Whose adorning…let it be the hidden man of the heart.” The hearts were cut from scrapbooking paper: thankfully I had little punches for those shapes, so we didn’t have to cut them by hand.
These were the centerpieces in progress for the theme “The Well-Dressed Woman from Ephesians 4:21-24: “If so be that ye have heard him, and have been taught by him, as the truth is in Jesus: That ye put off concerning the former conversation the old man, which is corrupt according to the deceitful lusts; And be renewed in the spirit of your mind; And that ye put on the new man, which after God is created in righteousness and true holiness.” I did go back later and cover the Styrofoam with Spanish moss and little paper flowers.
Those are all the ones I have pictures of in the computer: the other photos are in shoeboxes I need to do something with some time. But one of my favorites was on the theme of patterns from Titus 2:7, “In all things shewing thyself a pattern of good works,” and on each table we had a different craft and patterns: a bowl of yarn balls and knitting needles with crochet and knitting patterns in one, a few dress patterns and piece of fabric on another, etc. For another, the theme was “A Woman’s Adornment,” from I Peter 3:3-4, and we borrowed vanity trays from the ladies at church and set them with sets of gloves (also borrowed), little buttons that looked like brooches (from Michael’s), and little bottles that were meant to look like perfume bottles (I had originally wanted perfume atomizers, but they were hard to find and expensive) and a single rose.
I almost didn’t include these since they are churchy and not homey, but thought they might be useful in sharing some ideas that aren’t always “traditional” centerpieces. One of my Pinterest boards is Table settings – I like the simplest ones best. I might add some of them in to the Hidden Art of Homemaking Board.
More discussions on this chapter can be found here.
Stray Thoughts 