Happiness

Happiness is when you and a friend combine your tea tin collections and discover they make a rainbow.

Things to Put on the Fridge Door of Life

Dear Friend,

How are you today?

I'm feeling grateful. My husband has been out of town working on a project for the last two weeks. Yesterday he returned home to five jumping kids, a beaming wife, a tail-wagging dog, a clean house, his favorite dinner, and an apple pie.

Life is good.

The kids and I watched a balloon launch at the park on Saturday.

Lately I've been thinking about a few special links I'd like to share with you. This isn't just random good stuff that I've stumbled upon around the web. These are links to content I'm proud of, content which belongs to friends who have come alongside me in my life journey and blessed me with kindness. These are things to place on life's fridge door, so to speak.

A few weeks ago I met a precious kindred spirit, Emma Teller, for coffee. We talked for four hours. I never do that! But it was amazing. The time went by in a blink, We haven't seen each other in a very long time.Thirteen years ago Emma was my piano student. Now she is an exquisite artist. (I smiled over the smudge of red paint under her forearm.) We talked about faith, the creative life, and the mercy of God. I was blown away by her humility and wisdom.

No matter what you do or who you are there are so many ways we can do this - leave the world more beautiful than we found it - and that is what I hope and try to do with my paintings and with my art.  

Emma has a blog. Though she's not there often, it's a good place to view some of her work. Go here for still lifes and here for portraits. You can also follow Emma on Facebook.

Tim Fall has been called the "Barnabas of the Blogosphere" because he's relentless with encouragement. My whole family has been blessed by his friendship. While fishing in the Rockies recently, my husband used Tim's method for making pan fried trout. My kids have enjoyed listening to some of his cowboy stories that I've read aloud during our evening bonfires. Over the past few years, Tim has taught me to be liberal with encouragement and to pray for opportunities to build others up.

We have a God who is the Comforter -- who comes alongside us with the comfort, so that we can then be the ones to come alongside others with the comfort God has given us.

Tim blogs at Just One Train Wreck After Another. Two of my recent favorite posts are Problems with Unbalanced Grace and I've Never Been on a Road I Haven't Taken. And while you're there I'd be delighted if you'd read my recent guest post, People's Looks and Covers of Books.

Tim was recently interviewed by talk radio host Doug Bursch on "Live From Seattle." You can listen to that interview here. (Tim's segment starts at the 12 minute mark.)

Next, I must give a shout out to my faithful friend Christine. Last week she and I had a rare opportunity to have a day out together without kids. She knew I had been wanting to visit the Harriet Beecher Stowe house with her forever. There are nine kids and two husbands between us, so the stars have to be aligned just so in order for the two of us to be able to take a day trip alone. We realized our special day was set to happen only one day previous. The problem was, our free day (a Thursday) was a day the museum was closed. Christine got on the phone and coordinated a private tour. (They typically only do tours for groups and rarely on short notice!) I can't wait to finish my research so I can tell you all about our experience. Christine no longer blogs, so I don't have a link to give you for her, but I can't talk about things to put on the fridge door of life without mentioning the remarkable gift Christine pursued for me.

And last but certainly not least, I would love to introduce you to my virtual fairy blog mother, Jeannie Prinsen. Jeannie is a deep well of wisdom and intellect, yet she is delightfully approachable. Each Monday she shares a "Monday Morsel" -- a quote which she has come upon in her reading. I always try to square away some quiet time to sip my coffee when I visit Jeannie's Little House on the Circle. It would be wonderful to live near her and savor morsels with her in person.

 Life is not about being fast.  It's about doing what we're called to do and not stressing about the outcome.

I nominated Jeannie for a "Liebster Award" on my birthday this past year. She joined in the fun with this post in response.

Love her tributes to her son: You've Got a Friend in Me and Never Mean.

And this one: Slow: Tortoise Crossing


Recently Jeannie participated Anne Bogel's "literary matchmaking" blog event at the Modern Mrs. Darcy. Jeannie told Anne the types of books she likes/dislikes and Anne made selections for her based on this profile. Readers are invited to join in with the matchmaking and the result is lots of TBR list enrichment!

What are some things you'd like to put on the fridge door of your life today?

Peace & Joy,

Adriana

When Mr. Collins Wooed Me

Dear Friend,

Today I'm sharing part of a letter I sent to my friend Jennifer in Hungary when I was 20 years old. The original letter is ten pages long. I have substituted names of real people for names of characters from Jane Austen novels. The cassette tape referred to at the start is not the same one I wrote about in my last post. This means there was a second tape, but sadly, it's missing.

View from my old bedroom window at my parents' farm.

July 8, 1996

Dear Jeni,

A couple weeks ago I started to make a cassette tape for you in return for the one you sent me, but I couldn't get past the intro. I kept rewinding and started over.

Thank you so much for that tape. It completely kept my attention from beginning to end.

 Actually, the moment I discovered the tape in our mailbox is a good place to start my story: I was pulling out our driveway, on my way to meet up with our [college age] church group for a whitewater rafting trip to Gatlinburg. We rented a van so we could all stick together.

Everyone chatted and played games on the way down, except Mr. Collins. He brought his CD player with headphones and a stack of books -- topics ranging from Claude Monet to the Roman Empire. 

We stayed at a very nice hotel. Upon arrival, we checked in and everyone met downstairs in the lobby. There were lots of round tables, couches, a fireplace and a glass wall with a view of a pool. The atmosphere was light and jovial except, in one corner, Mr. Collins had begun a very solemn Bible study.

Please don't misinterpret me: You know I love the Bible. It's just that for the rest of the trip, if Mr. Collins wasn't preaching to us, he was having a Bible study. I sensed it was a bit showy.

It rained most of the time we were there, but that didn't spoil our fun. We all bought plastic rain ponchos with little bears on them and splashed about like a flock of ducks. Not Mr. Collins. He wore a parka and carried a large umbrella. He walked with slow deliberate steps and perfect posture.

I tried to be nice, but I felt annoyed.

The rapids were not at all wild, though still a lot of fun. (Mr. Collins was NOT on my raft!) They went something like this: bumpy, bumpy, bumpy, smooooth (paddle-paddle), bumpy, bumpy, bumpy, smooooth (paddle-paddle), etc. That was the pattern with a few minor variations. We got to know our rafting instructor pretty well. His name was Robert Martin, he grew up on Abbey-Mill Road, not far from where Harriet Smith lives. Harriet was melancholy for the rest of the evening after rafting. It was as if she had found the love of her life and lost him all in the same day . . .

 . . . On the way home, Mr. Collins turned around and handed me a paper entitled "What Does It Mean to Be a Writer?" I sensed it was meant to impress me, but it did just the opposite. For him, the writing process begins as he "takes up his quill." I can't quote the rest exactly, but part of it went something like, "In the middle of the night I am awakened by a longing to pour out my soul to another who can speak my own sweet language." By the time I reached the conclusion, I felt certain he is in love with himself and the way he writes. He had been very eager for me to read his composition. I got the feeling he had jumped to the assumption that I love to write for the same reason as he. This could not be any further from the truth. I am not a good writer yet. Though, with maturity and much practice, I hope to become one someday. I believe writing is good only when it communicates real meaning in a clear way -- just as a Christian should be a person you can look at and see Christ. With good writing, the reader is not  distracted by fancy words, I don't want to write in such a way that my meaning can only be discerned by a select few.

So next, he started saying something about "kindred spirits." Then  he paused and looked straight at me.

"Do you know where I got that from?" he asked.

I nodded.

"I watched the entire thing over Easter vacation," he said.

"Do you know what my favorite part was?"

I was afraid to ask.

"It was the very end where Anne and Gilbert came together on the bridge."

"Oh yes, " I said dryly, "the resolution."

"She finally came to her senses!" he said, then swiftly turned his back to me and began talking to someone else.


So that was my trip to Gatlinburg. My tummy is rumbling now. I believe I'll stop and make some lunch. When I return, I'll have a new subject for you!

* * * * *

Other posts in this series: A Recording My Friend Made for Me Twenty Years Ago Today, Invisible Friendship, Air Mail: Letters I Wrote at Age 17

Also, you might enjoy How NOT to Propose, which is another Mr. Collins-themed post.

I will say -- it's been interesting for me to re-read my old letters and consider how some of my perceptions have changed in the last 20 years. I was a bit more haughty and self-assured then, I believe. 

Now that I am a wife and mother, I kind of feel sorry for Mr. Collins. He probably had a back story, though I'll never know it since I wouldn't let him near me. You can't always judge a man's character by the way he wooes a woman. We all take our turn being ridiculous. That's part of being human.

"There's nowt so queer as folk." :-)

Thanks for reading! 

Peace & Joy,

Adriana

A Recording My Friend Made For Me Twenty Years Ago Today

Dear Friend,

I was lying awake in bed at 4 o'clock this morning when I heard my phone buzz. It was a Facebook notification. My close friend Jennifer had just updated her status from Europe.

I am thankful for being able to communicate with my family easily. When we were in the Philippines, we mailed letters or made cassette tapes for the family. That was how Grandma and the others could hear what we sounded like. These were filled with one-sided conversations, songs, funny stories, or even awkward pauses when we ran out of things to say before we hit the stop button. I remember Mom and Dad trying to hurry to do anything to fill the tape since we did not want to waste the precious minutes on the tape. I always felt sorry for the people who actually listened to the WHOLE tape, front and back. I feel spoiled by how easy communication is now.

Jennifer is the daughter of missionaries who lived in the Philippines during her childhood. We met in middle school when her family was on furlough in the States. In high school they moved to Hungary, where she still lives today. Now she is a teacher in Budapest. She normally posts updates during her lunch break. I left a comment under her status.

Me:  I'm thankful to be the owner of a Jennifer tape from when you lived in Hungary in the early nineties. 

Me: Listening now.

Jennifer: Poor you. :-)

Me: It's wonderful. I keep tearing up over it! I just paused it about half way through side B. You said, "Good morning, Adriana. It's Sept. 12!" You were making this tape 20 yrs ago today!

Me: You just talked about your mom's birthday. And your [little sister] is brilliant. You describe her playing with her Hungarian friends in spite of the language barrier. Sulysap doesn't have phone service, but your dad has agreed to take you to a phone so you can call me. That would be my Christmas present. Your mom has made you some nice dresses by hand. There's a scene where you rescue Esther's shoe from the other side of a muddy lake. You're talking about what you and I will do next summer when I come to visit. I can visualize most of the places you're describing. You're going to miss your beautiful room with the "pure white walls" when you go to the Bible Institute. The curtains in the girls' room there are so drab . . . This is priceless.

Jennifer: Maybe I don't feel sorry for you. We'll see how you hold up at the end.

Me: I feel richly blessed this morning.

Jennifer: Funny, I completely forgot that I even made a tape for you.

Me: I knew it was in my letter box, but I haven't listened to it since you sent it to me. It's value has increased with time.

Jennifer in Toalmas at the Word of Life Bible College in 1994.

I visited Jennifer in the summer of 1995, a year after her recording was made. On the tape she talks about our plans for my visit.  We will work at a Bible camp, we'll travel throughout the countryside, and take day trips into the city. Her voice is the same --mellow and precise -- though of course she sounds younger. In part of the tape I can hear her alarm clock ticking as she recorded herself while still in bed one morning when she had a cold. There is a dog barking in the distance. A quiet day in a small village without telephones. 

I guess I'll go now. I love you very much. I think about you all the time. I can't wait until next summer. We're going to have so much fun. Even if you can only stay for a month, we'll still have a lot of fun. I know Budapest pretty well now. I don't get lost when I go there. I can even find places I've never been to before without too much of a problem. I think one of the best places you'll like is Buda. It's not polluted like Pest is. There's beautiful hills all over. That's also where the Castle District is. And you can walk for days in the Castle District just looking at stuff. So gorgeous.

Together at last in 1995.

So Jennifer, if you're reading this I want you to know that I listened to the WHOLE tape, front and back and there is no need to feel sorry for me. You apologized more than once on the tape because you were concerned I would find it boring. Well, it wasn't boring. Not one bit. It was a beautiful gift which I savored (and cried over) two times, twenty years apart. Thank you so much for your faithful friendship. I am richly blessed.

With Love,

Adriana

P.S. I can't wait to visit Hungary again!

Other posts in this series: Invisible Friendship, Air mail: Letters I Wrote at Age 17

Walking the Underground Railroad with a Friend

Dear Friend,

Here's a picture of my friend Jai'yah. She and her family spent a weekend with us last summer.

One night I was up late washing dishes after everyone else went to bed. I turned to see Jai'yah standing in my kitchen doorway.

"Can't sleep?" I asked her.

"Nope."

"Do you want to talk for a while?"

Her face lit up.

We went to the living room and sat on the couch. We talked about school.

"I love history, " she said.

"Me too! Do you know we live near the Ohio River? This area was once part of the Underground Railroad."

"Are you serious?" Her eyes widened.

"Oh yes. The farmhouse behind our property was built in the 1800s. I've been told it has a secret room. It's not listed on a historic registry, but I sometimes wonder if runaways once hid there."

She was entranced. I told her about my road trip to Ripley, Ohio. I pulled out my laptop and showed her pictures from my blog posts. She wasn't familiar with the story of Reverend and Mrs. Rankin who conducted thousands of passengers on the Underground Railroad to freedom.

She turned, knelt on the couch, and pulled apart the curtians to peer outside.

"It's so dark in the country," she said. "And quiet . . . creepy!"

"Sometimes I imagine people rushing, barefoot through the night, " I said. Because I knew she was thinking of this too.

"Do you want to walk down to the road with me?" I asked.

"Oh yes! I'm kind of scared to. But, yes!"

I gently shut the front door behind us as we stole into the darkness. Once at the road she said, "It's like we're on the Underground Railroad!"

I felt chills on the back of my neck. "I'll be your mother," I said.

She grabbed my hand and pulled my arm hard. "Come on, Mama!" she whispered. "We've got to run!"

We bolted down the road hand in hand. When we reached a clearing I pointed to the starry sky. "There's the Drinking Gourd," I told her. "That will lead us north."

We traveled on a little way and suddenly we saw headlights coming toward us from far in the distance.

"Hide!" She yanked my arm. We dove under some shrubery on the side of the road and lay on our stomachs until the car drove past.

"They didn't see us," she said with a sigh.

We continued on, backtracking this time along the same direction we had come. When my house came into view she said, "Look, Mama! It's the Rankin House!"

And this made me cry.

To think she equated my home to such a place -- a  place of safety and freedom and love.

We ran up the driveway to the back of the house and quickly pushed the back door open. Then, smiling, we jumped up and down and hugged each other tightly.

"We made it!"

"We're safe!"

"Yes! Safe!"

"I hope Mrs. Rankin will give us sometime to eat," I said. "I'm starving!"

She giggled.

"I wonder if the kids ate all the pie? If not we'll have some cookies and milk," I said.

"Adriana, Thank you."

"Thank you, Jai'yah. I love you, dear."

* * * * *

I realize our adventure was in no way harrowing like the real experience of those who once traveled from the slave-holding states in the south to freedom in north. Still, the imagination of my young friend stretched my mind and my heart. It made me think, really think, about what such a journey would have entailed and how desperate a mother would have been to protect her loved ones.

Hope this post finds all my blog-friends well.

Peace & Joy,

Adriana


P.S. Jai'yah, if you're reading this -- I know you will make a splendid history teacher or even a professor someday, if that is what you want to be. :-)

My Trip to Moscow with Bill Gothard

Click here to see what I'm making.

Dear Friend,

Lately I've been writing about the cult which influenced me during my youth. Recent events have prompted me to sift through my memories and decipher to what degree my heart was manipulated during my teen years. You can read my previous posts on this topic here and here.

Do I still carry remnants of the teachings within me? How much of it is good and true? What parts are harmful? I need clarity, so I'm turning to my blog for therapy. It's taking me some time to piece everything together. Today I'll focus on my first ministry excursion.

In the Spring of 1993, when I was sixteen, I spent two months in Moscow, Russia with a team of students who were enrolled in Bill Gothard’s homeschool program, the Advanced Training Institute (ATI). We had been invited by Russian President Boris Yeltzin and Galina Venidictova, a senior member of Moscow's Ministry of Education. We were authorized to implement Gothard's Basic Life Principals program in 2,000 Moscow public schools.

View from the stern of the Nikolai Bauman

When I reflect upon my trip to Moscow I feel a broad spectrum of emotions. I see the faces of Russian children. I smooth my hands over some of their gifts to me -- elaborate drawings of butterflies, tiny plastic trinkets, postcards of icons. The memories of their beaming smiles still fills me with joy.

A performance of Russian school children in Moscow, 1993.

Why was I given this privilege? Was I special in some way? Our invitation to Moscow was historic. I'm mentioned on US Congressional Record as one of 501 "outstanding individuals who have filled a significant role as citizen-ambassadors in developing Russian-American public relations."

I was only sixteen. You might think I was a brilliant scholar -- a promising academic! But Gothard taught that higher learning was a spiritual "high place" to be avoided. Better to be ignorant and humble; better to be pliable. You might think my parents were well-known Institute benefactors with "pull." But no -- my dad worked in a can factory; my mom was a homemaker. When my invitation came in the mail, we were all as astonished as if I had been invited to a royal ball.

I can only think of one reason I received that invite: In the summer of 1992 I made a commitment to "courtship" at the ATI conference in Knoxville, TN. I was urged my Mr. Gothard to sign my name on a courtship commitment card. During a prayerful moment (with every head bowed and every eye closed), I resolutely placed the card in a basket that was passed down the row. Ushers delivered the names of prospective pawns directly to Mr. Gothard.

So in essence, I won the lottery! I had dreamed of traveling to Europe since I first saw it on a map in grade school. Mr. Gothard was going to take me there.

Trying my best to communicate on the street in Moscow.

I've kept all the gifts which were given to me by my Russian friends -- even the icons, though we were instructed not to keep them. When I first arrived at the Nikolai Bauman, our floating home on the Moskva River, I found a list of guidelines in my room.

Rule # 14: Many times you will receive gifts such as pictures of icons. (Accept these graciously, but please do not keep them.) Give them to your team leader to dispose of. Do not throw them away in the garbage can in your room, as this might offend some of the Russian crew members who clean the rooms.

I'm have a post card icon next to my laptop right now. It is "The Savior Wearing a Crown of Thorns"  by Vassili Poznanzky, 1682.

There's writing on the back: "To my dear dear Adriana -- Thank you for being my friend and sister in Christ. I Love you. Your, Helen."

How could I ever hand that over for a team leader to dispose of?

I wonder what Father Gleb Yakunin, Deputy Chairman of the Supreme Soviet Standing Committee on Freedom of Religion and Conscience, would have thought of the command to destroy icons. He had been instrumental in getting us in the door. Would Bill Gothard have been sent packing?

Russian Christians were weary from years of persecution. There were an estimated 12-20 million victims of Soviet state atheist policies in the years preceding our visit. I had no idea how grave the situation had been. I passed toppled statues of Vladimir Lenin on the streets. What did it all mean?  I was naive. I can only imagine how precious religious icons were to Russian Christians during the dark years. For many, printing icons on postcards was their first taste of religious freedom! -- So precious they gave them as gifts.

Perhaps the moment I tucked the icon inside my suitcase was the moment I began to drift from Gothard's fold.

Hope you are enjoying these first days of spring!
Next time I'll attempt to explain the whole "courtship" thing as I understood it at the time. Also I'll tell you about my one private face to face encounter with Bill Gothard.

Blessings,

Adriana

What's on My Bookshelf

Dear Friend,

Today I'm linking up to the Modern Mrs. Darcy for the "What's on YOUR bookshelf?" synchro-blog event. This is a marvelous way for bookish types to get to know each other; bookshelves speak volumes about their owners!

Taking a moment to glance over a  person's books will likely glean many more insights about his or her worldview, taste, interests, concerns, and desires than could be disclosed in the same amount of time spent in conversation.

I'm planning to visit all the blogs who participate in the link-up this week.

If you are coming by Classical Quest for the first time -- welcome! I look forward to getting to know you. 

From the top: baskets contain needlework supplies and musical instruments. Boxes contain love letters from my husband and kids, and the seven year correspondence between my friend Jeni and me.

I read most of Willa Cather's works in my early twenties.

The Spy Doll was one of the first chapter books I ever read. (Charlotte's Web was the first.) I wrote a research paper on The Four Loves by C.S. Lewis during the short time I was in college. I purchased One Hundred and One Famous Poems when I was twelve with money I earned from cleaning my grandma's house. I've read it at least one hundred and one times.

If I had to pick one book out of my entire bookshelf that I think says the most about me, it would be Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis.

Many of the titles on my bookshelf were purchased from public library book sales or consignment shops. I've read everything in this group except Les Miserables.

At age sixteen I discovered English author Daphne Du Maurier. I read every one of her titles that I could get my hands on. (I even read one while spending time on the grounds of a castle in Hungary.) I found My Cousin Rachel about twenty years ago in an antique shop. Du Maurier's style is a bit romantic for my current taste, but it was perfect for my sixteen year old self.

The books in the Little House series by Laura Ingalls Wilder are some of my all-time favorites. I've listened to the entire series read by Cherry Jones several times with my kids. I found On the Banks of Plum Creek last week for 50 cents.

I recently came across my copy of Chicken Soup With Rice by Maurice Sendak. A slip of white paper fell out of it which was marked with a letter "A." On the back there was a note in my mom's handwriting: "Adriana wrote this "A" at age three."

I purchased The Great Palace of the Moscow Kremlin on the street in front of the Kremlin when I was seventeen.

I purchased the French dictionary from a school book sale when I was in grade school. I still refer to it from time to time.

Out of all the books in this stack, the slim unassuming black one has been studied the most. I bought it at the Biltmore Estate when I was nineteen. It's John Singer Sargent by Kate F. Jennings. 

Little Women and Anne of Green Gables were also some of my very first purchases. Strangely though, I just read Anne for the first time last year! (I could quote the entire movie with Megan Follows by heart though.) 

Great Hymns of the Faith is a new version of my childhood hymnal. 

I read Beau Geste when I was fifteen. I was desperate for something new to read, but wasn't yet old enough to drive myself to the library. I found this abridged version in our house. It turned out to be quite the page-turner!

Having Our Say is the autobiography of Sarah and Elizabeth Delany -- African American sisters who lived to be centenarians and never married. I think I'll read it again soon. It's charming, inspiring, and full of wisdom.

Unquiet Soul is a biography of Charlotte Bronte that my friend Jeannie Prinsen recommended. I haven't read it yet but I'm really looking forward to it.

A Year Down Yonder by Richard Peck and Bud, Not Buddy by Christopher Paul Curtis are excellent chapter books for kids. I read A Year Down Yonder aloud to my family last summer when we went "down yonder" for a week long family vacation. (My kid's have told me I do a good Grandma Dowdel voice.)

I've read all these except for The Princess Bride. I found this copy at a consignment shop for a $1.00. It was recommended by Tim Fall.

Why We Can't Wait by Martin Luther King Jr. is underlined heavily. 

Redwall is another book we've enjoyed listening to as a family.

Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art by Madeleine L'Engle was recommended by Anne Bogel.  I highly recommend it for all spiritual/creative types.

I can remember listening to my dad read from  The Bible Story Library when I was young. It's full of famous Biblical art. I spent hours flipping through the volumes, studying each picture before I knew how to read.

Q: What do you call people who use Natural Family Planning?

A: Parents! :-)

Most of these are holiday titles that we will use this year for our Advent Literary Countdown.

Young Children and Worship helped me change my methods for imparting faith to my kids. It's kind of like Montessori for Sunday School : less lecture and more wonder.

I bought the John Hopkins Family Health Book before I had internet access. Now it serves as a nice leaf and flower press.

We've read The Child's Story Bible  by Catherine Vos through with our kids three times.

Sewing School was a Christmas gift for my daughter a couple years ago. We've enjoyed creating projects out of it together. The authors of this book also have a fun blog.

I've kept you long enough, but here are two quick bonus shelves --

This is where I store the books I'm working through for my Well Educated Mind project. 

And last but not least . .  . the cookbooks! Yay! 

I often use recipes from Barefoot Contessa, Better Homes, Joy of Cooking, and Fanny Farmer.

I did not include the bookshelf in our office (mostly reference materials), the playroom (children's books), or my virtual library on the Amazon Cloud. 

So that's it! Hope you enjoyed the tour! Don't forget to visit other blogs who have linked up to Modern Mrs. Darcy!

Peace & Joy,

Adriana

P.S. Don't forget to "Like" Classical Quest on Facebook! Thank you!

My First Guest Post:Embracing the Gospel

Dear Friend, 

Today is a big day in my blogging life! My first guest post is up at Tim Fall's blog, Just One Train Wreck After Another. I wrote about a subject which is dear to my heart: embracing the Gospel through racial reconciliation. 

I dedicate my first guest post to Keilind, who recently turned eight. 
Happy Birthday, Keilind!

My husband Joe is a masonry contractor. A few months ago he was building a parking garage in our city. At lunch time he and his brick mason walked across the street to a small corner store. The proprietor was a black man of late middle age. He nodded in greeting to these two white men as they entered.

“I honestly just wanted to be friendly to the guy,” Joe told me later. “I tried to start a conversation. I noticed that he was playing heavy metal in the place. I thought that was odd, so I said, ‘This don’t sound like your kind of music.’”

A shadow passed over the man’s face. Joe’s employee cringed and looked away.

“Now, why would you say that?” asked the shop owner.

{Read the rest at Just One Train Wreck After Another. Follow Tim on Twitter @tim_fall}

Peace & Joy,

Adriana

Air Mail: Letters I Wrote at Age 17

Dear Friend,

When I was seventeen my best friend and her family moved from the United States to a village in Hungary. I lived with my parents and three younger siblings on a farm in the Midwest. I was home-schooled for much of high school. We had no computer. I learned to cope with loneliness by reading and writing letters. I now have our complete correspondence in my possession. I'll share a few snippets from letters with you now. You can read another post about these letters here.

Dec. 6, 1993
Dear Jeni,

I really had you on my mind last night. I lied awake in the dark for two hours before falling to sleep. I hope you are doing well. I miss you terribly.

It is very gray here. My sister and I got up and took a walk this morning. It is safe to do so now that gun season is over. Three cute little puppies followed us for a long time. The wind was mean. It cut at my face and caused my ears to throb. The puppies were so brave as they walked with us. Their fur flew back and they had to squint their eyes.

We put up our Christmas tree last week. To save money, we used a fake one that my Aunt Debbie got out of the garbage last year. Along with our normal decorations we added strings of popcorn. It looks beautiful . . . 

Dec. 13, 1993 

The other day I went to the library and checked out a book about Hungary. It has a nice map in the back. In your next letter, could you please send the map that I have enclosed back to me. I would love to know where Sulysap is. Please circle it on the map . . . 

. . . I dream about going to Scotland someday. Want to come along? How fun it would be to climb a heather hillside and have another special picnic! -- Except this one would be spread out on a Tartan blanket. Imagine exploring a seaside town or a castle! Imagine listening to the bleating of sheep or the music of bagpipes. To experience Scotland with all the senses would be such an adventure!

 . . . Right now everyone is gone for various reasons. I have the entire evening to myself. I cannot think of a more enjoyable way to spend this time than by conversing with you . . .  

 

 . . . I know many people don't believe in making New Year's resolutions, but I always do. I have pulled out my resolutions from last year. It's funny to recall how most of them have been broken. Here's my favorite: "I will eat 52 sweets."  -- HA! HA! Yea, right! More like 552!

 . . . The saying on my desk easel for today is sort of dry (a bit like, "Friends, unlike fashions, should never change." How much thought went into that?) So I have decided to send you the saying for Dec. 11 instead:

"Tell me how much you know of the sufferings of your fellow men and I will tell how much you have loved them."
~ Helmut Thielicke

That all I'll share for now -- though I've only shared portions of two letters, and I have stacks of them!

Have you saved any old letters from the days before email?

Peace & Joy,
Adriana