What Happened? Oh Help!

February 2015

A church down the road has an annual Father Daughter Dance close to Valentine's Day. Last year was the first time Ken took Clare and Addie.



And then exactly one year later . . .




February 2016

That's all. I'm going to take a nap now. Hopefully for ten years.

'Night, all.

Jane Eyre and Real Virtue

Ian looks like a mayor.

Addie wanted everything.

Clare and I just finished up another Valley Performing Arts play ~ Jane Eyre. We already miss the shows and the cast and crew. It truly is a community affair. One of the sweet parts of each VPA show is the themed, interactive lobby exhibit. Last year's Velveteen Rabbit had a Christmas tree with Santa giving away candy canes and posing for pictures. Jane Eyre's crew came up with a people-sized picture frame and black velvet background with a rack full of vintage clothing for patrons to don and snap photos in.

It was wonderful to read the book again after many years and I am so proud to contribute to putting the story on stage. My friend wrote a piece on Jane Eyre over the summer and I wrote for our Frontiersman last month. I've copied mine here in full, as clicking on the newspaper link results in annoying, required survey questions.




Jane Eyre and Real Virtue

"Reader, I married him."

One of the most famous lines in literature, this sentence begins the final chapter of Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre. It is a story of a girl turned lady, a girl who learned through sadness and loss to better herself and to become a lady who held tightly to God's laws of charity and chastity, a girl whose life began unwanted and unloved and ended with knowing "what it is to live entirely for and with what I love best on earth...supremely blest beyond what language can express because I am my husband's life as fully as he is mine."

What is it about Jane? Why are we drawn to her story? Why are readers, so pleasantly addressed as such by Miss Bronte, gladdened to see her move from unforgiveness to forgiveness of her Aunt Reed; to see her stand up for Christian morality with her master; to see her call upon Providence in her deepest sorrow, to see happiness and contentment finally visit her, all the while retaining her vibrant personality and quick wit? Why does relationship with Jane change and soften Mr. Rochester until he did "begin to experience remorse, repentance; the wish for reconcilement to my Maker...to pray."?

Virtue.

It's not a word you hear much anymore. From the Latin word virtus, it means, "Habit superadded to a faculty of the soul, disposing it to elicit with readiness, acts conformable to our rational nature." Or, as Saint Augustine thankfully explained more succinctly, "Virtue is a good habit consonant with our nature."

The Church charts virtue into two groups: moral and theological. The moral virtues are prudence (reasoning to discern the good), justice (man regulating himself in relation to others), temperance (restraining concupiscence), and fortitude (moral strength to do what right reason requires). The Catechism of the Catholic Church says about these, "The moral virtues are acquired by human effort. They are the fruit and seed of morally good acts; they dispose all the powers of the human being for communion with divine love (#1804).

The theological virtues are infused; that is, gifts from God. They are faith (intellect perfected by Divine light), hope (confidence in Divine assistance to life everlasting), and charity (love of God and neighbor). According to our catechism, "The theological virtues are the foundation of Christian moral activity; they animate it and give it its special character. They have the one and triune God for their origin, motive, and object (#1813).

Jane saw virtue in her Lowood School friend Helen Burns who, when questioned by Jane about vengeance, answered with, "I so sincerely forgive the first [criminal] while I abhor the last [crime]: with this creed [from the Creator] revenge never worries my heart, degradation never too deeply disgusts me, injustice never crushes me too low; I live in calm, looking to the end. Why should we ever sink overwhelmed with distress when life is so soon over and death is so certain an entrance to happiness -- to glory? God is my father; God is my friend; I love him; I believe he loves me." Indeed, Helen's life was over too soon. Her gravestone was marked with her precious name and the word, Resurgam -- I shall rise again. Her influence lived on in Jane, though, and made the world a little better.

She also saw virtue in her teacher and friend Miss Temple, who, as well as teaching Jane the liberal

As Miss Temple and Diana Rivers.

arts of language, literature, French, drawing, and mathematics, took every opportunity to smile, to give, to embrace, to listen, and to show a tear. Jane said, "I had imbibed from her something of her nature and much of her habits: more harmonious thoughts. What seemed better regulated feelings had become the inmates of my mind." Jane carried this virtue, both from God and practiced in life, with her to Thornfield Hall and Mr. Rochester.

Her virtue attracted Mr. Rochester: "The more you and I converse, the better; for while I cannot blight you, you may refresh me." He delighted in Jane's true, easy, and excellent conversation free of coquetry and shallowness. Their interactions leading to true love are delightful to read. And often funny.

"Tell me now, fairy as you are, can't you give me a charm or a philter or something of that sort to make me a handsome man?"
" 'It would be past the power of magic, Sir'; and in thought I added, 'a loving eye is all the charm needed; to such you are handsome enough; or rather, your sternness has a power beyond beauty'."

When the existence of a secret, lunatic wife was exposed and their wedding called off, a desperate Mr. Rochester begs Jane to move with him to France and live together, for no one would know or care. To which Jane replied, "I care! I will keep the laws given by God; sanctioned by man. Laws and principles are not for the times when there is no temptation; they are for such moments as this, when body and soul rise in mutiny against their rigour, stringent are they, inviolate they shall be. They have a worth; there I plant my foot. I will not be yours." Her answer to her love's anguish was to "Do as I do; trust in God and yourself. Believe in heave. Hope to meet again there. I advise you to live sinless and to die tranquil."

Resurgam.

Virtue.

Our cast. Our friends.



 

 

 

 







Human Flowering

From Oak Meadow's The Heart of Learning:

"A flower does not appear very early in the growth of a plant. Nature spends many months developing a strong root system to nourish the plant, building a strong stem to support the blossom, and leaves to collect the necessary sunlight. Only after many long, preparatory stages stages does the flower appear, and it would not appear if those stages had not proceeded in order and fulfilled their needs. If nature, in growing a flower, saves the best until the very end, why should we expect a human being to unfold and flower at the very beginning?"



I needed to read these words this morning, both as a challenge and a consolation. Enough said.

Her morning coffee was stirred with dulche de leche and heavy cream.  My tropical rose.

Not from my weekend list of post ideas, but I have a feeling this is what I needed to share for Post #3.

May we care for our flowers today.

Love, Allison

Dear Young Ladies

Dear Young Ladies that like my sons,

I want you to know that every time Fox News adds another "Stars without makeup" slide show, I call my boys to the computer to watch.

I want you to know that about once a year, I make them all watch this famous piece by Dove.

. . . so they know.

Be real, ladies; there's only one of you and you don't need to paint up to look like someone else. See? Television isn't real anyway.  It's not good for the boys in your life and it's even more not good for you.

Like a gold ring in a pig's snout is a beautiful woman without discretion (Proberbs 11:22).

Charm is deceitful and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised (Proverbs 31:30).

Love, A

*Post #4

Poetry, not Multiplication.

MY SHIP

By Clare A. Howell

My ship is a well-built ship;

She loves to take a dip.

When the sun's high, her masts reach up to the sky.

The wind fills them, those sheets of white;

The wind, with all its might

Pulls her away from the dock.

The water is her frock.

She lives for it; she was made for the water.

With a bluish light the ocean is lit.

When she plows through the wet sea, white waves wash up to meet her.

All this was simply meant to be.

Clare at work.  Don't ask; I have no idea.

This is my girl in our yard a few days ago, rejecting all other responsibilities because she had a poem idea, I imagine after our family visit to Seward.  Seeing her happily scribbling away confirmed to me that she does have a decent attention span and that she is certainly capable of focusing on a project.  As long as it is not long multiplication or division.  She is only half-way through the 4th grade math book (actually, 2 different ones), refusing to give the puzzle of organizing place-valued ciphers any mental energy lasting more than 5 seconds.  I have (mostly) given up the fight and I (usually) don't mind.  Peace in the home is paramount.  We're homeschoolers, after all, and I'm not supposed to care what the government system says a 10 year old should be able to master.  After all, look at the poems and artwork and photographs and stories she delights in creating.

She took this in B&W with our goofy camera and when I asked her why, shrugged.  "I could just tell it was the right way to do it."

Aren't we all like this?   I cannot manage a daily Rosary or the Divine Office, but I love participating in Holy Mass and beginning our days with family prayers.  My husband refuses to again attempt to read music, but is terrific at taking the kids out survival camping and tackling tough conversations.  Some families are good at fabulous field trips; others are good at evening story time; others are good at stimulating science projects.  If you do all of these things, don't talk to me. 

She is who she is, with talents and troubles.  So am I.  So are you.  Our beloved, now retired priest once told me in Confession, "Your personality was created by God and it is good.  No apologies.  Let's pray for the Holy Spirit to soften the sinful edges.  Still you, but more like Jesus."  God doesn't yell at me because of my concentration troubles and I mustn't yell at Clare because of her mathematical troubles. 

Instead, I publicly celebrate her talents right here on this blog and pray for the sinful edges to soften.  All for the glory of God!

Celebrating Poetry, not Multiplication ~

Love,

Allison

Such beauty; such composition; such . . . art!





Anniversary doodling for us.