Closing the Chapter

Oh, is there anything more thrilling, more satisfactory than finishing a task? Even when the task is small and menial there is so much gained from completing it; this is how I feel this moment as I gently close the cover to my beloved, Little Women.

                How I enjoyed Louisa May Alcott’s story of Meg, Jo, Beth, and little Amy. Did I ever laugh over Meg’s homemaking mishaps and didn’t a few tears fall down my cheek as Beth bravely crossed the river and entered heaven’s gate. I could go on about Aunt March’s curious parrot, Amy’s pug nose, and Marmee’s beloved character and lessons; however, I do not want to spoil it for you.

                Dear friends, if you have a spare moment, pick up your copy of Little Women today and refresh your spirits and encourage your heart; try the chapter entitled “Experiments” for a hearty laugh or “The Valley of the Shadow” for tender moments of reflection. And close your book feeling that life is beautiful, character more worthy than riches, and that trials--though hard--have a glorious purpose when set apart for God.   

Why I (don't) Love Mr. Darcy

            Warning: I realize what you are going to read may be upsetting. It’s okay; I’ll take the imaginary tomatoes you may throw my way. My opinions are not popular and I'm okay with that.

            There comes a time in every young woman’s heart when she begins to think about “The One.” The One who will love her and on whom she can pour her love; during this time some ladies will day dream, others make prospective lists, and still others will eat cookie dough and watch Austin classics.

(Note: It has now been confirmed that some ladies partake in all of the mentioned activities. I must confess, I'm one of them :)

            While watching said movies, these young females tend to set their hearts on different, agreeable characters. There’s thoughtful Mr. Knightley from Emma, the debonair Willoughby, and lest I should forget, Pride and Prejudice’s, Mr. Darcy.

            Mr. Darcy. He’s handsome and terribly proud. Modest, rich, and honorably faithful to those he loves. And for some reason, he seems to be all the girls go crazy for. All one has to do is chicken-peck “Mr. Darcy” into Pinterest’s search engine and all sorts of girlish shrines appear:

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              Now, just in case you may be one of these infatuated Darcy-lovers, please keep reading. I understand how it would be easy to like him; his stuttering, love soaked speeches are enough for any warm-blooded female to swoon. But come on, ladies, can’t we do better?

            “Better? However in the world could we do better than Mr. Darcy?” cry the masses. Simply put, Brandon. Colonel Brandon. I am confused as to why some ladies dream of Darcy and yet pass by the Colonel like Marianne . . . with indifference and disgust. He’s old, you say. Yes, but he is also wise. “He is too stiff and boring” and yet he is solidly dependable and has a genuine, discreet heart. Did anyone notice how he never once pushed his feelings on Marianne and that he gentlemanly bowed out upon discovering her heart lay elsewhere? His feelings, though they ran deep, were restricted to friendship and genuine friendship is what he gave to the Dashwood’s.

             In reality, we’re speaking about fictional characters that, though very dear to us, are quite contained to the page. In a very roundabout way, I simply put forth the following questions:

Who are we drooling over

and why, exactly?

As Christian young ladies we’ve been given the charge of keeping our hearts safely for Christ (and therefore our future husbands). I do not believe there is anything wrong with observing and taking into consideration different character qualities or personality traits which are pleasant and good (from real or fictional characters). However, I do question our idols and our dreams. If we are going to dream o’re Darcy let us ask ourselves why? And let us look around for someone who may be a bit more worthy.

With love to all you Darcy-lovers!

            Frannie            

Memory Lane: A Mess with Tolkien

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We were the best of friends. Allie, my tomboyish, adventuresome sister, Jeremiah, (code name Bubba), and I. Summers were spent chasing each other through our field or building Indian camps in the Alaskan midnight sun. Winter hours caught us sledding down the hill with cheeks rosy and flushed. Nothing could separate us.

            Except for “Lord of the Rings.” We grew up in a home where movies filled with magic were eyed suspiciously or were altogether titled as no-nos. “Star Wars,” “Harry Potter,” even “Sleeping Beauty” were on my mother’s hit list; therefore, Mr. Tolkien’s series never entered our VCR nor did its covers ever break open before my eyes. As I watched my friends flock to the movie theater, obsess over Legolis, and mimic a certain hunched, green creature I struggled with envy. How I hated to be left out of the cool crowd; how I despised the inside jokes my cape wearing, imaginative friends shared!

            So, when the opportunity presented itself, I took it. We were visiting a family-friend’s home and all my elfish friends decided that such a get together would not be complete without a weekly viewing of walking trees and wizards. My blood pumping, I sat down. I do not remember all that I watched, seeing that my stricken conscience only let me view fifteen minutes, but I do remember ugly, large squirrel-like creatures. I assume they were bad guys.

            The next day, being the Lord’s Day, found me in church sitting next to Nanny, one of my favorite friends. Her family’s pew lay across the building several rows away from my family’s pew; I was enjoying our time exchanging bits of gossip during the sermon until the familiar, attention-grabbin’ sound of motherly fingers snapped. Snap, snap, snap. My body jerked to attention. My head turned toward the family pew and there sat Allie, my sister, my comrade, smiling wryly as Mom looked across the church with a face of disapproval and anxiety. My secret was up; I had been caught.

            I’m not sure what my punishment was for disobeying; I only know that I haven’t watched a scene of Tolkien’s famous series since that fateful Sunday. And now, nearly ten years later, I understand my mother’s rule and concern.

            But my sister’s tattling tongue, her sly snitching, now that is another matter. 

P.S. A small note to all Frodo-loving, cape wearing, “Lord of the Rings” friends out there:

While I have not and (most likely) will not watch your beloved series, please do not take offence at this post. I was by no means meaning to tease you (unless you wear elfish ears and creep around like a hunched creature more often than not). You then, might deserve a little teasing. J

Sorry . . . but We're Closed

A happy hello to you all! I hope this finds you blessed and encouraged in the love of Christ. He loves you so fully and thoroughly . . . what a great God we serve! Great in every way!

Just a little note to say:

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I'm taking a  little time away from the nternet . . . perhaps I shall return within a month's time or so.

Shall miss your terribly!

Frannie

A Visit with the March's . . .

“Mother, do you have ‘plans,’ as Mrs. Moffat said?” asked Meg bashfully.

            “Yes, my dear, I have a great many; all mothers do, but mine differ somewhat from Mrs. Moffat’s, I suspect. I will tell you some of them, for the time has come when a word may set this romantic little head and heart of yours right, on a very serious subject. You are young, Meg, but not too young to understand me, and mothers’ lips are the fittest to speak of such things to girls like you. Jo, your turn will come in time, perhaps, so listen to my ‘plans,’ and help me carry them out, if they are good.”

            Jo went and sat on one arm of the chair, looking as if she thought they were about to join in some solemn affair. Holding a hand of each, and watching the two young faces wistfully, Mrs. March said, in her serious yet cheery way—

            “I want my daughters to be beautiful, accomplished, and good; to be admired, loved, and respected; to have a happy youth, to be well and wisely married, and to lead useful, pleasant lives, with as little care and sorrow to try them as God sees fit to send. To be loved and chosen by a good man is the best and sweetest thing which can happen to a woman, and I sincerely hope my girls may know this beautiful experience. It is natural to think of it, Meg, right to hope and wait for it, and wise to prepare for it, so that when the happy time comes, you may feel ready for the duties and worthy of the joy. My dear girls, I am ambitious for you, but not to have you make a dash in the world—marry rich men merely because they are rich, or have splendid houses, which are not homes because love is wanting. Money is a needful and precious thing—and, when well used, a noble thing—but I never want you to think it is the first or only prize to strive for. I’d rather see you poor men’s wives, if you were happy, beloved, contented, than queens on thrones, without self-respect and peace.”

            “Poor girls don’t stand a chance, Belle says, unless they put themselves forward,” sighed Meg.

            “Then we’ll be old maids,” said Jo stoutly.

            “Right, Jo; better be happy old maids than unhappy wives, or unmaidenly girls, running about to find husbands,” said Mrs. March decidedly. “Don’t be troubled, Meg, poverty seldom daunts a sincere lover. Some of the best and most honored women I know were poor girls, but so love-worthy that they were not allowed to be old maids. Leave these things to time; make this home happy, so that you may be fit for homes of your own, if they are offered you, and contented here if they are not. One thing remember, my girls; Mother is always ready to be your confidante, Father to be your friend; and both of us trust and hope that our daughters, whether married or single, will be the pride and comfort of our lives.”

            “We will, Marmee, we will!” cried both, with all their hearts, as she bade them good night.

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How I really do love my copy of Little Women; the sweetness, peace, and wisdom which flows from its pages . . . ah, one of life's simple pleasures.  I hope that you too may be able to share a visit with one of the March girls. I assure you, they love to welcome guests and share their stories! 

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Alcott, Louis May. Little Women. New York: Barnes & Nobles Books, 2004.

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A Bit about Me

How sweet!! Vickie, from Sunshine and Shadow, has given me an award. Thanks so much! You all should click right on over to Sunshine and Shadow . . . I always enjoy the fun and life I find in that little corner of the web.

1.       What is my favorite song?

Oh no! What a terrible question to ask. You see, I don’t have just one. If I’m scratching out a love song “You are my Sunshine” is awfully sweet. But during those quiet moments of worship and praise Kari Jobe’s “Beloved” or the hymn “Rock of Ages” lift my little voice upward.  Oh, and John Denver’s “Country Road” makes me smile.

check it out, here!

2.      What’s your favorite dessert?

Mom’s Red Velvet Cake . . . so good!

3.      What really irks you?

When my dearly loved brother turns on the lights at 12 a.m. and jumps into my bed laughing naughtily . . . oh yes, that’s quite bothersome.

4.      When feeling upset what do you do?

Ideally, I want to turn a heart full of praise to God despite the problem but far too often I’ll shed a few tears and try to go to bed early.

5.      What’s your favorite pet?

Our dog, Kimo! He’s a labradoodle and the best of pets.

 

Aren't they both cute? The best of chaps.  

6.      Do you prefer to wear white or black?

White

7.      What’s your attitude?

Hm…oh dear. I suppose I don’t know how to answer this one. I guess I’m just Frannie: A sinner saved by grace. That means I tend to have a lot of attitudes ranging from awfully hopeful to terribly critical. I was made a quiet creature but laughing happens often; I tend to seek praise and yet have the most trying time talking with strangers. Honestly, I have great needs for attitude improvement. J

8.      What place, object, scenario, etc. would you describe as perfection?

Some prairie land with a river running through it and where the snort of buffalo can be heard . . . Wyoming/Grand Teton area. Just give me a little log cabin, a clean stream, some music and a few good books and I’ll settle in as happy as a clam.

Jeremiah overlooking Jackson Hole, Wyoming area. Lovely.

9.      What is/are your guilty pleasures?

Chocolate chip cookie dough J I suppose that is one of the things I do eat when I’m upset!

10.   What is my favorite pastime?

Does napping count? J Holding a cup of steamy black coffee and visiting with my parents, visiting with the Lord outside, watching a good movie. . .

Ten Random Facts

1.       I spent 2 hours working with trash yesterday . . . it makes me so thankful to not be an orphan looking for food in a trash heap as so many do.

2.     My favorite seasons? oh dear, that's like asking a mother her favorite child. I would say spring; how I do love the thawing ground and singing birds.

But then summer, with her oppressive heat and hay bales, calls me too.

Falltime or harvest . . . perhaps this is my favorite. I do love cooling weather, colored trees, and the scent of Thanksgiving approaching.

Like the three above? Visit here for photo credit.

And then my Alaskan blood calls for winter. Silent. White. Beautifully quiet nights. Bright skied day.

3.       After an hour too long, I finally (almost) finished four cloth napkins! Hoorah! I now need to “edge stitch.” Any seamstresses out there willing to lend a tip?

4.       I’m finding Psalms 130 a beautiful blessing:

“Out of the depths have I cried unto thee, O LORD.

Lord, hear my voice: let thine ears be attentive to the voice of my supplications.

If thou, LORD, shouldest mark iniquities who shall stand?

But there is forgiveness with thee, that thou mayest be feared.

I wait for the LORD, my soul doth wait, and in his word do I hope.

My soul waiteth for the Lord more than they that watch for the morning: I say, more than they that watch for morning.

Let Israel hope in the LORD: for with the LORD there is mercy, and with him is plenteous redemption.

And he shall redeem Israel from all his iniquities.”

5.       I love names and their meanings. Like Jonathan (Yahweh has given) . . .  what a sweet, strong name for a little boy and one day man. And the name Jaelle (mountain goat) for a darling girl and eventual woman.

6.       My full name is Francesca (Fran-chess-ka). Meaning: free woman . . . aren’t we all in Christ Jesus?

7.       I really like the idea of using maps to decorate. Alot.

Via Pintrest

                             

8.       I’ve never struggled with any serious illness and credit it to God’s mercy and my bad habit of chewing fingernails (how else can one be vaccinated from sickness other than exposing oneself to germs everyday….I know, I need to stop). J I did have pneumonia once and lost 30 pound . . . while vacationing in Hawaii.

9.       I miss being in Ghana. I miss the cultural differences, the foods, and the happy Ghanaian people.

10.   Isn’t this the sweetest song? (thank you Vickie for getting me hooked on Vera Lynn and Gene Autry J)

"A House with Love in It"

“A house with love in it is rich indeed

Although there are a thousand things that house may need

The carpet may be old, the room so plain and bare

And yet it’s beautiful somehow, when love is living there

A house with love in it just seems to bloom

As though the month of May were filling every room

So, darling, through the years with all my heart I’ll pray

A house with love in it is where we’ll stay

A house with love in it just seems to bloom

As though the month of May were filling every room

So darling, through the years with all my heart I’ll pray

A house with love in it is where we’ll stay”

Blessings to you all!!

                               

That One Girl

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She had always been one of those quiet girls—the kind which sat in the school cafeteria alone or who was easily left out of juicy gossip sessions. Often, she struggled with insecurities. Would she ever be considered beautiful? Did her friends really like her? Her introverted nature meant that any activity outside her beloved home meant feeling and acting awkward . . . as if she didn’t feel awkward enough already.

And then, one glorious day, that young girl met Christ. He revolutionized her worldview, starting with herself. No longer did physical beauty matter as much—God loved her despite her big nose and lack of athletic ability. She had learned that true joy came through acceptance and being content with her time of birth, her heritage, her gender . . . and she was happy. It didn’t matter if boys didn’t find her attractive for she was the bride of Christ and He would prepare His man to love her exactly as she was made.

However, the days were not always sunny. Whenever she took her eyes off of Jesus the petty things became menacingly important again. But this time her insecurities took a different turn: “What if God doesn’t really love me?” “Is He truly capable of caring for the nitty-gritty details in my life?” “Can’t He see the hurt I’m going through?”

Of course He does andis andcan but sometimes believing a lie appears to be easier than believing the truth.

And so, my imaginative readers, you can only imagine the pickle she often found herself in. When she wasn’t struggling with natural insecurities (oh, they are all looking at my acne! . . . As if all people love to look upon acne . . .) tack on the spiritual blues and you’ve got one terribly awkward, introverted gal. You can imagine what kind of witness that makes.

I wish I could give a happy report on this unhappy girl but I simply cannot. She still experiences the “I’m too fats” and the “I’ll never be forgiven” traps; but she has found an answer to her problems. (If only she would be prompt to remember it.)

And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.

Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ's sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong.

2 Cor. 12:9,10

Her advice to any struggling gal out there: turn to Jesus for His grace IS sufficient. His mercies ARE new every morning. His love is UNWORLDY. He is able to cleanse the most trashed mind, forgive the ugliest sin, and love the most unlovable creature. He just wants us to trust in Him.

So, dear one, trust. Trust in His Word and in His love. And live in the abundant life He gives.