Courage, Merry.

Courage- n.; a word that can alternately inspire, and scare the heck out of a person

When I think of courage, I most often think of the stories of epic tales. Heroes, valiant men and women, unlikely princessess, and paupers-turned-kings. I think of Bilbo sneaking into Smaug's lair. I think of Frodo casting the ring into Mount Doom. I think of High King Peter and his brother and sisters. I think of Rebecca in Ivanhoe, and the monumental part she plays in saving England from Prince John. I think of Jane Eyre and her stalwart moral-courage. I think of the Scarlet Pimpernel, and of Jean Valjean, and of the dozens--even hundreds--of heroes and heroines who loom large in my mind when I think of the word "courage."

Seldom...oh how seldom do I think of what these folk were before the end.

I seldom think of Bilbo as the fat little hobbit who so hated the idea of leaving the Shire that he almost missed his chance for a grand adventure. I seldom think of Frodo as another fat hobbit who never meant to take the ring any farther than the borders of Rivendell--indeed, if that far! I seldom think of the Pevensies as frightened, war-torn children who are sent to live in a country manor-house because their old home is being bombed by Germans. I seldom think of Jean Valjean as the lost, confused, and ill-bred young man who stole a loaf of bread so his sister's children mightn't starve to death.

I seldom think of any of these things, and yet when I do, the stories expand like Pandora's box. Before, the characters' heights of courage and valour seem positively unattainable. But when I start to take their story--their lives--like I am forced to take my own { that is, one moment at a time}, I start to see a trend.

Courage is not a long measure.

Courage is the shreds of determination, madness, great-hearts, and grit pieced together end-to-end till, at the last few pages of the story when you're finally looking back, you see that it was courage after all that brought you this far.

See, God has given us a love for these stories as mirror-shadows of His story, so that we might manage to begin to comprehend just "what sort of tale we've fallen into, Mr. Frodo." That's the premise of the devotional, Epic by John Eldridge, and something I firmly believe. And, you know...I start taking these stories in little tiny pieces and I start looking at Bilbo burrowing his head in a comfy pillow at Bag End to stop out the sound of the dwarf-song, and I start watching Frodo take a last walk through the Shire, and I start looking at Rebeccas as an unloved Jewess and suddenly I realize:

They're no different than me.

They had no more courage to start with than I do. They were afraid, they were wretched, they were confused and bewildered and sometimes wanted nothing more than to cling to their own familiar doorstep with the morning glories and nasturtiums growing close to the little round windows. But they simply didn't. They set out on the road, and they kept going no matter what happened. Because the authors who wrote their stories (imitating the Author Who wrote mine) understood one key thing about courage: Sometimes a valiant spirit is not the courage needed. Sometimes the courage needed is a chin lifted into the face of the wind, a boot dug into the ground, and a heart that says, 'No matter. I will go forward. You cannot make me go back.'

These characters weren't courageous because they sat in Hobbiton or London or Ashby or Paris thinking, "I will be brave. I will have courage." More, it was just a blind clinging to what was right before their very faces when the path got narrow and foggy and beset with perils of every sort. More, it was a faith that everything that should happen would, and their responsibility was not to guess what the end ought to be, but to put one more foot on the twisting stairway because "Up" was the only way, or to go one more league on the moor because it was right when all their heart was longing for the love they'd left behind at Thornfield Hall. 

In short, it's the words Eowyn whispers in Merry's ear as they ready for battle:

"Courage, Merry. Courage for our friends."

I know it's hard to see sometimes--I know it's hard to fathom the idea that you could be living a story as large as those you love, but it's true. And the courage you need is ready for the taking. A sweeping end-vision is, of course, a beautiful gift, but perhaps we should stop asking God for courage for the whole way. Perhaps we should start asking Him for just enough to take that step forward. You never know when that step might take you to the Happily Ever After you've always dreamed of.

The Sourdough Challenge!

I am in a dreadfully perverse mood recently. I don't know what it was bred of but it makes me feel rather strongly like doing strangely unaccountable things like...adopting a pair of white ducks to do paintings of, (Me, who hasn't picked up her brush in a month or two entire!) or make cheese or (and this is the point on which this whole post is orbiting...)

Make Sourdough bread.

This has a logical path. We were given some free sourdough bread and it was made with white flour. I try to avoid white flour...I really do. But Sourdough is my one weakness. I broke under the pressure of Trying Not To. ;) I cut the slices very very thinly and toasted them, buttered them, and had myself some Secret-Toast with a hot cup of tea.

"Evangeline, may I have some secret-toast-and-jam?"
"Most certainly not."
"Alright--forget the jam--just some secret toast?"

(Forgive me for quoting Nanny McPhee in a moment like this. ;) I decided I had to remedy the situation. After all, must the White-Flour-Eaters have all the sourdough? No. Never. I flatly refused. So after imibibing in the Secret-toast and tea, I betook myself to the laptop and rummaged up a Sourdough Starter Recipe.

And this is where the challenge begins. I'm starting my starter tonight. (And making it whole wheat.) Will you girls begin a starter too? It "brews" for 5-10 days and at the end of the time if you don't feel like continuing with the sourdough, just toss it--it is rather a cheap experiment anyhow! :)

The recipe I found was from a fabulous little website I just tripped over called Chickens in the Road. I think it and me are going to be good friends by-and-by. (And no, it had nothing to do with the fact that I found a recipe for Apple-lilac jelly. No indeed.)

Here, my fellow Butchers, Bakers, and Candlestick-makers, are the Brewery Instructions:

Sourdough Starter(from www.chickensintheroad.com)
1 Tbs. yeast (not rapid-rise)
1/2 cup warm water
1 1/2 cups whole wheat flour
1 1/2 additional cups warm water
1 Tbs. honey or sugar
Mix the yeast with the 1/2 cup warm water in a non-metal container. Mix with other ingredients and stir well. Pour into a non-metal bowl or jar. (This starter will poof and grow so provide for plenty of room for fluffery.) Cover with cheesecloth and leave on the counter for 5-10 days. Stir 2 or 3 times a day.

That's the basic recipe I found on the website and there are further instructions in The Post itself. I will be posting about the next step in 5 or 10 days so stay tuned! Will you join with me in the Sourdough Challenge? Pretty pretty please? :) Leave me a comment telling me if you are being darlings and doing this Sourdough Challenge with me! :)

Madness on the River...true story. :D

If one had been anywhere nearish the Pagan River this afternoon they might have had very good reason to doubt my sanity and the sanity of certain Other  Persons. :) But all good stories begin at the beginning and who am I, especially as a writer, to question that formula?

It started thus: I was awakened by a Pounce from an Abigail Taylor which soon recalled to my memory the fact that it was our first day home from the fabulous girls' retreat. After getting back into the groove of things, Daniel mentioned to us that he did not have to go work today and we ought to find something out of the ordinary to do.

It was a beautiful day--blue sky, fresh breeze, warm sunshine--so we fixed upon Canoeing. Do not ask me why we thought such an idea to be a sane one. ;) But Daniel called 'round and found that some of our friends who live not too far away owned a canoe that we could borrow. All we had to do was drive to their property and hike down to a creek and get it. All well and good in theory.

When we arrived at the property we rumbled down the drive and poured out of the car--Daniel, Sarah, Abigail, and I. 

But our directions were erroneous. The good chap who had cautioned us to go to the right fork was mistaken in which direction we'd be standing when we viewed the forks. We got lost and had to call for an SOS. The good chap hurried over and became our Sacajawea. We found the creek and the canoe and portaged back to the truck. The good chap hurried home for an online class.

We were hungry, Lewis and Clark and the rest of us, so we found our favorite, darling little ice-cream parlor and got some lunch. After lunching we drove down to the River to launch our boat. We strangled ourselves into our life-preservers as Madmen strangle themselves into strait-jackets. Then, satisfying ourselves that we were unsinkable, we continued our Lewis-and-Clark pantomime by getting into the canoe.

All four of us.

We sat a bit low in the water, but we were afloat!

All was fine sailing for a bit. The water was wide and blue. The herons laughed at us. The sun sparkled for us. The spirit of Adventure gripped us. And that's where we went wrong.

We saw a little estuary off the main course and thought what a lark it'd be to Discover something....ahem. Paddles poised we drifted into the branch and began the trek down the little river.

By and by I began to feel rather Marsh-wigglish as the little river shrunk to a creek. "Daniel, shouldn't we turn around?"

"What? And miss the chance for adventure?"

So said our Lewis-and-Clark leader.

He must not be related to that species of persons who don't relish the idea of getting stranded. I imagine there is too much Crusoe in him for that. But it was rather fun exploring with a chance of danger so I kept quiet...for a bit.We plowed forward, laughing over the spider-crabs and herons and raccoon's prints. The creek was getting more and more squinchy and I began to feel a tad like Puddleglum:

"Are you sure you don't want to turn around?" asked I, the figure-head at the prow of the canoe.

The canoe's other three occupants said something that meant "Never" and I kept quiet again. At each squinching of the creek and scraping of the bottom of the canoe I asked The Question. "Are you sure?" I wanted to be sure that as Sacajawea (and therefore the person who could see best, as I sat forward) that I had given all and sundry the chance to avoid danger.

We were now touching bottom but Lewis-and-Clark and the other girls were adamant. "It'll get wider presently," they said. I put my oar too and tried not to mind the hoards of adoring midges that assaulted us on every side of the shrinking stream.

We were no longer Lewis, Clark, Sacajawea and the rest. We were Mike Fink using our paddles like river-boat poles. We got stuck repeatedly but no one but Dear Old Puddleglum (that's me.) kept giving them Chances. Lewis-who-became-Fink hopped out of the canoe and began succumbing to the quicksand-like material that coated the bottom of the little trickle. (Yes, we'd down-sized from stream to a trickle at this point.)

They were loathe to give up. It must broaden soon. It must come out to the main River eventually. It must! But Daniel was sinking ever deeper. They relented. We would turn about. It required the lot of us to do a Chinese fire-drill and switch spots. Daniel squish-trotted through the horrid muck and pushed the canoe as we Mike-Fink'd it back up the trickle. It became a stream again. It became  a creek. It became a little river...and we were out!

Muddy, disheveled, triumphant, we pushed onward to the little marina where we knew we could get ice-cream. After mooring and wandering up to the store, we collapsed on a bench eating our ice-cream with extreme satisfaction.

"I wish I had a camera," Daniel said, admiring us from his seat at a wrought-iron table. "You all look so happy and grubby like a bunch of six-year-olds."

And we were. We were happy. We were crazy. We were perfectly, utterly content.

The paddle home-ward was uneventful and we sang as we rowed. We floated into a section of pollen and petals that reminded us of the entrance to Aslan's country. We clambered out of the canoe and tied it to our roof, then grinned at each other with that preciously silly grin of childish satisfaction in getting hot and sweaty and grubby and tired.

After all--who can grow too old for a bit of Adventure, even if it does involve smelling like a marshwiggle for an hour or two? :D

I'll Meet You At The Polls! ;)

Hi gals! Boy it's been forever since I've posted here! I am sorry it's been such a while, but you will understand, I'm sure, how it is, getting busy and all that. I'm in a hotel room having a bit of an adventure right now...yeah. My brother's in the next room over and until tonight I had two gals rooming with me...but they had to go home and so I'm in a shabby hotel in a shabby room by myself for the night. The door's dead-bolted, locked, and barricaded with a chair, the curtains are religiously closed, and I've got my phone at my elbow. I'm just praying Psalm 91 and I'm not in too bad a state with my nerves. :P

...I'm a *homeschooler*! I don't have this experience! :D...

But I did want to say that I got to meet a sort of "Homeschool-hero" today! Attorney General Ken Cuccinelli! He was a dinner our SAT group attended and we got a picture with him! And not only him, but we actually got to speak with, shake hands with, talk with, generally-feel-famous-with Gov. Bob McDonnell!! Excitement was running pretty high (not to mention energy after our Team Leader, James forced us all to drink Mountain Dew and get "Kray-Kray" and we were all a little star-struck, I think. :P

Your's Truly working the phones. (Terrible Phone-Photo)

 I am trying to summon my courage to do double-phones tomorrow. But I'm not so bad using only one--yesterday I made 500 phone calls and knocked on 29 doors. (in 5 miles!) Our SAT team totally whipped ALL OTHER PHONE BANKING STATIONS IN THE NATION yesterday with 9,048 calls in one day! [Along with multiple miles of walking and door-to-door work.] We are pretty awesome. ;)
Anyway, I'd appreciate prayer for protection, (A lot, considering the location of our lodgings. Ahem.) extra energy, extra patience, and success in our mission to get a God-fearing, family-supporting, all-together amazing man elected to Senate! And please, everyone! Get out and vote! I could give you my whole spiel:
    "Hi this is Rachel working for the _______ Campaign! I was calling to see if we could count on your vote at the state senate elections!"
If you are like lots of these people you'll fuss at me and hang up. If you are like the kind few, you'll tell me to keep up the good work. Either way, I won't let you off the hook. ;) But in all seriousness, we like to sit back and complain and disparage today's government, but it's because we are not doing anything to elect officials who are honorable, godly, and trustworthy. It's common sense, and I'm asking you all to think about it! Thanks and I'll be back up on here before too long, hopefully. :)