boys and their sports
As some of you may know, this weekend was the NFL draft. Not being a football fan myself, I could care less, but being in a house with 3 football, specifically Packers fans I ended up watching the very end of Saturday's portion of the draft. Things were going along very boringly when Luke suddenly got it into his head that someone was going to draft Brett Farve, his most favoritest player of all. So, he proceeded to loudly telling the people on the TV, "Don't draft Brett Farve, don't draft Brett Farve!!!" Rebecca quickly told Luke "They can't! Brett Farve has a contract." This of course, did nothing for a 5 year olds mind, and he proceeded to loudly protest the drafting of Farve. So, Rebecca tried a different approach. It was about 10 minutes later before we finally got it through that you CANNOT draft Brett Farve! It was actually quite comical! They keep showing all these young college graduates. And Luke is scared for his favorite, retiring after this year player. He was so cute and genuinely worried as well :)
Serving God
"When God will not use thee in one kind, yet He will in another. A soul that desires to serve and honour Him shall never want opportunity to do it; nor must thou so limit the Holy One of Israel, as to think He hath but one way in which He can glorify Himself by thee. He can do it by thy silence as well by thy preaching; thy laying aside as well as thy continuance in thy work."
North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell
North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell
2 of my recent projects
I finally finished Sarah Beth's regency dress. So, my "kids" both wore their Katie-made clothes on Sunday. And the weather was really nice so we got some great pictures!!
I made Sarah's dress using Mrs. Chancey's Regency Dress and Pinafores patterns. Aren't they just darling! I can't wait to make more :)
Luke's pants and vest were made using this this Burda suit pattern. I was making him a suit coat as well, but, the sleeves managed to disapear. We've searched the whole house and they are no where to be found. I didn't have a stitch of fabric left, so all he gets for now is pants and vest. I have material for one more vest, which I will get around to sooner or later.
So, those are my recent children's projects. I'm hoping to finally finish the quilt I've been working on forever... I'll post pictures when I do!
I made Sarah's dress using Mrs. Chancey's Regency Dress and Pinafores patterns. Aren't they just darling! I can't wait to make more :)
Luke's pants and vest were made using this this Burda suit pattern. I was making him a suit coat as well, but, the sleeves managed to disapear. We've searched the whole house and they are no where to be found. I didn't have a stitch of fabric left, so all he gets for now is pants and vest. I have material for one more vest, which I will get around to sooner or later.
So, those are my recent children's projects. I'm hoping to finally finish the quilt I've been working on forever... I'll post pictures when I do!
For now, I'm off to the concerto competition *gulp!!*
Someone to watch over me
~~Someone To Watch~~
Over Me
Over Me
There's a saying old says that love is blind
Still we're often told, seek and ye shall find
So I'm going to seek a certain lad I've had in mind
Looking everywhere, haven't found him yet
Looking everywhere, haven't found him yet
He's the big affair I cannot forget
Only man I ever think of with regret
I'd like to add his initial to my monogram
Tell me, where is the shepherd for this lost lamb?
There’s a somebody I’m longing to see
I hope that he turns out to be
Someone who’ll watch over me
I’m a little lamb who’s lost in the wood
I know I could, could always be good
Someone who’ll watch over me
Although he may not be the man some
Girls think of as handsome
To my heart he carries the key
Won’t you tell him please to put on some speed
Follow my lead, oh, how I need
Someone to watch over me
I thought this went well with the following quote from Quest for the High Places. This part was written by Mrs. Jennie Chancey.
"The Song of Solomon gives the most beautiful description of marriage I know of. The woman is to be like a walled garden, filled with beautiful flowers, delicious fruits, and sparkling streams, all for one man. Only one man is to own the key to that locked garden. Others may see the beautiful climbing roses trailing over the top of the wall. They might smell the fruit from a distance. They might hear the chattering brook inside. But they do not have the privilege of entering that holy of holies. It is intended for one man alone. And when that godly man takes his garden, he tends it, nourishes it, and honors it in such a way that it becomes even more beautiful and flourishing."
Contacts, again...
Some of you may remember this post from a while back....
The Fiddler's Nook: contacts are not always fun...
Well, the contact saga should have had a
Oh a good side note, the eye doctor actually came by DQ, on what I assume was his lunch break, to drop me off a new contact to replace the ripped one. I LOVE living in a small town. In a big city, the doctor probably doesn't know where you work, let alone stop by on his lunch to bring you a new contact. Yes, I'm a small town, country girl, hick. But, I like it!
So.. that's the latest chapter on my eyes. I am by faith inserting,
The Fiddler's Nook: contacts are not always fun...
Well, the contact saga should have had a
to be continued....
What's up with me lately? I don't usually have any trouble at all!at the bottom of it. You see, after I got my new contacts, they were awesome for a few days and then I started having problems again. I couldn't see clearly. I wasn't sure if I was seeing double, fuzzy, or what? And in the beginning I wasn't sure what eye it was. After a few days, I called the doctors office and talked to the nurse. She said that it might be the weather and gave me a few things to try. If those didn't work I was to come in and see the doctor, maybe there was a problem with my prescription. I tried most of the things that she suggested (the ones that didn't involve buying drops), nothing worked, nothing changed. The only new thing was I'd figured out it that definitely my right eye that was going fuzzy and such. So, this morning I went to the doctor. He checked my prescription, and such. The diagnosis, there is a little tiny 1mm rip in the center of my right contact. The rip is so small is it barley visible to the naked eye, which is why I didn't notice it when I examined the contact for anything unusual. This rip will over the course of the day irritate your cornea, and actually cause your eye to cloud up. Hence, fuzzing my vision. Strange no? So, I replaced that contact with a new one. That was... 13 hours ago, I haven't had one problem sense....
Oh a good side note, the eye doctor actually came by DQ, on what I assume was his lunch break, to drop me off a new contact to replace the ripped one. I LOVE living in a small town. In a big city, the doctor probably doesn't know where you work, let alone stop by on his lunch to bring you a new contact. Yes, I'm a small town, country girl, hick. But, I like it!
So.. that's the latest chapter on my eyes. I am by faith inserting,
THE END
one more Fiddler Picture
I found a cast picture of Fiddler. No, I will not tell you who everyone is. Maybe if I could hear their voices I could tell you. I don't know them all by sight. Some, I only recognize their voices.
The people I do recognize are..
Back Row
Teyve is the brown hat whose face you can't see 2nd from the left
Fyedka is next to Teyve
Fruma-Sarah is well obviously in the middle
Next row
Yente, somebody, somebody else, somebody else, Chava, Perchik, and a bunch of other people I don't know
Next row
(In front of Chava is) Hodel, Lazar Wolf
In Front of Hodel is Avram the bookseller, in front of Lazar in Motel the Tailor, and in front of them is the Constable.
Missing cast members are The Rabbi, Golde, Tzeitel, and Grandma Tzeital, so, it's not a complete cast picture, and they aren't in character, but close enough.
Back Row
Teyve is the brown hat whose face you can't see 2nd from the left
Fyedka is next to Teyve
Fruma-Sarah is well obviously in the middle
Next row
Yente, somebody, somebody else, somebody else, Chava, Perchik, and a bunch of other people I don't know
Next row
(In front of Chava is) Hodel, Lazar Wolf
In Front of Hodel is Avram the bookseller, in front of Lazar in Motel the Tailor, and in front of them is the Constable.
Missing cast members are The Rabbi, Golde, Tzeitel, and Grandma Tzeital, so, it's not a complete cast picture, and they aren't in character, but close enough.
Pictures!
The Fiddler on the Roof
Tradition
Matchmaker, Matchmaker, make me a match
Teyve's Dream
The Bottle Dancers
Success!!!!
Yes, I swiped pictures off of someone's webpage... Facebook....
Anywho... there are more pictures here at the UWP website... there are some REALLY good ones there. You will have to go through all the pictures to see them, but I think it's worth it. I couldn't swipe those, they were protected... I will post more if I can...
Katie
Tradition
Matchmaker, Matchmaker, make me a match
Sabbath Prayer
Teyve's Dream
The Bottle Dancers
Success!!!!
Yes, I swiped pictures off of someone's webpage... Facebook....
Anywho... there are more pictures here at the UWP website... there are some REALLY good ones there. You will have to go through all the pictures to see them, but I think it's worth it. I couldn't swipe those, they were protected... I will post more if I can...
Katie
What I've been doing...
Running around like a chicken with my head cut off. Yep, that's about it. Life has been VERY busy this last week. I've had rehearsal or performance for Fiddler every day since last Saturday. It was a lot of playing, enjoyable, but exhausting. If only life around Fiddler wasn't crazy it probably would have been easier, oh well...
Fiddler went very well... I thought so anyway. Considering the only other pit I've ever done was a HS production of Annie Get Your Gun, Fiddler was pretty much a breeze. Saturday was, in my opinion the best performance overall. The pit played very well, the cast was on fire and awesome, must have gotten some much needed rest during the day... and the audience was extremely responsive. It was actually pretty surprising. There was a tornado warning. And tornadoes sighted in the surrounding area. So, there were almost 400 people in the basement of the CFA (Center For the Arts). They were sending people to the basement when they came to see the show. We couldn't leave until we were cleared by the local police department. So we were down there for about an hour. We (as in the rest of the orchestra members that I was talking with) were worried with how the show would go. The show started 45 minutes late, after a practical riot to get to the ticket counter. Check Rebecca's Blog for details. Mr Fairchild (the conductor) joking told us that we were going to play the Anetevka March (a.k.a. play everything fast so we can get out of here at a reasonable time). I think we started just in time. Everyone was kinda excited and a little wound because of all the excitement. So, that just rolled right over into the performance. The result; a wonderful performance.
The cast was awesome! I think it was probably one of the best stage renditions that I have ever seen/heard :). There were some parts that I have seen done better. But, for the most part it was wonderful. My favorite characters were Perchik, Chava, Teyve, Motel, and Mendel. I think that was it. It's hard to really say. I couldn't see much of anything. Sitting 5 feet down in a pit isn't very conducive to actually "watching" a play. I could see people sometimes from the shoulders up and every once in a while from the waist up :) So, my opinions are mostly on hearing only.
While in the pit I sat next to 2 ladies that are in the Dubuque Symphony. I was nice I play with and spent time with them. It got me thinking about trying out for the symphony again... I'm kinda scared of being rejected. But then again, why would I be, and the extra money would be really nice.....
What else have I been up too....... hmm... not much... I'm finally getting to the end of Weinawski's violin concerto. I started a new section of it on Tuesday. So, I pretty much have 1 small section left and then just getting it ready to perform. I am hoping to play it in the concerto competition, if we have one, and then I am going to play it for a video audition I need to do for a String Workshop I want to attend. I finished sewing a skirt. It's pretty cute. I will have to take a picture and post it. If I remember.... My room desperately needs to be cleaned. There are black clothes strewn about. I am so tired of wearing black...
So, I should be going to bed, it is 9:30 and I am tired. I dragged myself out of bed this morning. And it most likely will be a long week, so off I go.
Night all!!!!
Fiddler went very well... I thought so anyway. Considering the only other pit I've ever done was a HS production of Annie Get Your Gun, Fiddler was pretty much a breeze. Saturday was, in my opinion the best performance overall. The pit played very well, the cast was on fire and awesome, must have gotten some much needed rest during the day... and the audience was extremely responsive. It was actually pretty surprising. There was a tornado warning. And tornadoes sighted in the surrounding area. So, there were almost 400 people in the basement of the CFA (Center For the Arts). They were sending people to the basement when they came to see the show. We couldn't leave until we were cleared by the local police department. So we were down there for about an hour. We (as in the rest of the orchestra members that I was talking with) were worried with how the show would go. The show started 45 minutes late, after a practical riot to get to the ticket counter. Check Rebecca's Blog for details. Mr Fairchild (the conductor) joking told us that we were going to play the Anetevka March (a.k.a. play everything fast so we can get out of here at a reasonable time). I think we started just in time. Everyone was kinda excited and a little wound because of all the excitement. So, that just rolled right over into the performance. The result; a wonderful performance.
The cast was awesome! I think it was probably one of the best stage renditions that I have ever seen/heard :). There were some parts that I have seen done better. But, for the most part it was wonderful. My favorite characters were Perchik, Chava, Teyve, Motel, and Mendel. I think that was it. It's hard to really say. I couldn't see much of anything. Sitting 5 feet down in a pit isn't very conducive to actually "watching" a play. I could see people sometimes from the shoulders up and every once in a while from the waist up :) So, my opinions are mostly on hearing only.
While in the pit I sat next to 2 ladies that are in the Dubuque Symphony. I was nice I play with and spent time with them. It got me thinking about trying out for the symphony again... I'm kinda scared of being rejected. But then again, why would I be, and the extra money would be really nice.....
What else have I been up too....... hmm... not much... I'm finally getting to the end of Weinawski's violin concerto. I started a new section of it on Tuesday. So, I pretty much have 1 small section left and then just getting it ready to perform. I am hoping to play it in the concerto competition, if we have one, and then I am going to play it for a video audition I need to do for a String Workshop I want to attend. I finished sewing a skirt. It's pretty cute. I will have to take a picture and post it. If I remember.... My room desperately needs to be cleaned. There are black clothes strewn about. I am so tired of wearing black...
So, I should be going to bed, it is 9:30 and I am tired. I dragged myself out of bed this morning. And it most likely will be a long week, so off I go.
Night all!!!!
Quotes
~C.S. Lewis
"I know 2 things: That I am a great sinner and that Christ is a great Savior."
~John Newton
contacts are not always fun...
Most of you probably didn't know this, but I have been having problems with my contacts. It all started one Monday night during orchestra. My left eye started hurting, itching, and I was having trouble seeing out of it. The girl who sits next to me said my eye was all red. Well, I took my contacts out as soon as I got home. I figured I must have just gotten something in my eye or under my contact. My eye was pretty sore so I wore glasses for a few days. Then I put my contacts back it, and the same thing happened. I decided I should switch to a new pair of contacts to be safe. Well, I'd just gotten a new box from Walmart. Well, the first day I wore them there was absolutely no trouble. But that only lasted for one day. They started giving me headaches, I was having trouble with both of my eyes, and there were times I couldn't see very well at all.
I wondered if I have gotten a bad box of contacts, or maybe the wrong contacts. So, I called Walmart and explained everything to the nurse. She checked my records and said I got the right contacts, and she had never heard anyone say they were having the troubles, I had and that there was something wrong with my eyes, and I needed to see the eye doctor asap. Right, AAAHHH!!!!!!!
So, I finally got in to see the doctor on Thursday. And I am VERY pleased to report that there is NOTHING wrong with my eyes. The doctor said that I probably got a mislabeled contacts. So, I was right in the first place... I should be an eye doctor, I wonder how much money they make....
So, in the end, I paid money to be told that I got a bad set of contacts... at least my tax check is coming to pay for it. AND, the doctor gave me a prescription for a new type of contacts called Acuvue Osyas, they are the most comfortable contacts I have ever worn. They feel GRR8!!
I am so thankful that my eyes are all right, I was worried there for a while....
I wondered if I have gotten a bad box of contacts, or maybe the wrong contacts. So, I called Walmart and explained everything to the nurse. She checked my records and said I got the right contacts, and she had never heard anyone say they were having the troubles, I had and that there was something wrong with my eyes, and I needed to see the eye doctor asap. Right, AAAHHH!!!!!!!
So, I finally got in to see the doctor on Thursday. And I am VERY pleased to report that there is NOTHING wrong with my eyes. The doctor said that I probably got a mislabeled contacts. So, I was right in the first place... I should be an eye doctor, I wonder how much money they make....
So, in the end, I paid money to be told that I got a bad set of contacts... at least my tax check is coming to pay for it. AND, the doctor gave me a prescription for a new type of contacts called Acuvue Osyas, they are the most comfortable contacts I have ever worn. They feel GRR8!!
I am so thankful that my eyes are all right, I was worried there for a while....
Spring has sprung!!!
I'm so happy!! It was 70 degrees on Tuesday!!!! Most of the snow we got, only 2 weeks ago.
There are green stems starting to poke their heads through the wet earth.
Makes me think of that song.
"When I see that little lily
pushing up that heavy clod
then I marvel at the wisdom of my God"
It's so nice to not have to bundle up just to go to your car. Or walk around the house with extra clothes on to keep warm. I LOVE spring!!!!
Of course now that I am finally posting this 2 days later. We had sleet and a little bit of snow last night. hehe.. But what do you expect, it's March.
There are green stems starting to poke their heads through the wet earth.
Makes me think of that song.
"When I see that little lily
pushing up that heavy clod
then I marvel at the wisdom of my God"
It's so nice to not have to bundle up just to go to your car. Or walk around the house with extra clothes on to keep warm. I LOVE spring!!!!
Of course now that I am finally posting this 2 days later. We had sleet and a little bit of snow last night. hehe.. But what do you expect, it's March.
you are never too old to play dress up
So, we were snowed in this weekend. And we decided to play dress-up. So here are some pictures... I just finished making Luke's vest and pants. I was going to make him a whole suit, but alas the sleeve pieces disappeared into the great unknown, so he got pants and a vest instead. I also have material for one more vest, in maroon. I am going to make it double sided. Cause I have 2 different types of buttons that go with it. And we can't make up our minds. So, I'm thinking double vested with different buttons on each side. I will post a picture when I finish everything, that and I didn't get good pictures yesterday.
I'm sure someone will wonder about my hair, here's a couple pictures of my hair.
Rebecca did my hair, it was awesome
And I got to pretend to be Sarah's mommy. I was Mrs. Bella Harmon, and she was Bella Jr. So we got some adorable pictures of her.
Here are a couple pictures of all of us together.
And just in case you didn't know, Sarah is loved A LOT!!!
Important
Dear readers,
The following links are questions that were posed to a woman named Lori Kalner. For those of you who have read the books by Brock and Bodie Thoene; it is the same Lori that is in those books. She is a real person and her answers will really make you think. Think about the time we live in, and the world during and before WWII. I encourage you to please, please read them, they are important to the time that we are living in.
The Church in Germany
The World Today
The following links are questions that were posed to a woman named Lori Kalner. For those of you who have read the books by Brock and Bodie Thoene; it is the same Lori that is in those books. She is a real person and her answers will really make you think. Think about the time we live in, and the world during and before WWII. I encourage you to please, please read them, they are important to the time that we are living in.
The Church in Germany
The World Today
a poem
I know I haven't posted anything personal-wise lately, I've been kinda busy, hopefully this weekend, I will time to post. For know here is a poem a friend of mine introduced me to today.
When I grow up
I want to live in a little yellow house
A tiny yellow house with bay windows and wood floors
And a clothes line even though it's not neccessary
And a fireplace that is used often in the the fall and winter
And the house has a garden over-run with rosemary and thyme and basil.
A garden with twinkle lights everywhere.
And sometimes I think that when I grow up
I want a husband who loves me
With a true heart
And who will cook with me using the herbs in our garden, while we talk openly, and kiss spontaneously, and laugh frequently
And when we do the dishes, we'll throw water at each other.
And we could read together in the evenings, sometimes out loud, in our library (which really was supposed to be a living room, but it's a small house and we just have too many books)
Maybe we'd even read a play or two out loud, just for fun
And we could pray together, about anything
And we could hold each other closely at night, and grow old together, and never stop loving each other.
And sure we'd fight, but we'd work through it together, because it'd be worth it to both of us.
And sometimes, when I think about when I grow up
I think about the children with rosy cheeks who catch lightning bugs in old glass jars in the summer time, and pretend they're faries.
And they will ask in awed whispers, how God paints the sunsets
And they will ask in voices far too loud, where babies come from
And they will run to me with arms outstretched
And I'll catch them and spin them in the garden
And sing to them at night
And make-up fairy tales exactly to their specifications
When I was little, and even not so little, thoughts of marriage and children made me feel a bit nauseous...and I've wondered what on earth is the matter with me.
Something's happened though, I think, something's changed. Now, though my mind does not often lend itself to thoughts of these things... whenever it does, I smile.
~~ Katie Powell
When I grow up
I want to live in a little yellow house
A tiny yellow house with bay windows and wood floors
And a clothes line even though it's not neccessary
And a fireplace that is used often in the the fall and winter
And the house has a garden over-run with rosemary and thyme and basil.
A garden with twinkle lights everywhere.
And sometimes I think that when I grow up
I want a husband who loves me
With a true heart
And who will cook with me using the herbs in our garden, while we talk openly, and kiss spontaneously, and laugh frequently
And when we do the dishes, we'll throw water at each other.
And we could read together in the evenings, sometimes out loud, in our library (which really was supposed to be a living room, but it's a small house and we just have too many books)
Maybe we'd even read a play or two out loud, just for fun
And we could pray together, about anything
And we could hold each other closely at night, and grow old together, and never stop loving each other.
And sure we'd fight, but we'd work through it together, because it'd be worth it to both of us.
And sometimes, when I think about when I grow up
I think about the children with rosy cheeks who catch lightning bugs in old glass jars in the summer time, and pretend they're faries.
And they will ask in awed whispers, how God paints the sunsets
And they will ask in voices far too loud, where babies come from
And they will run to me with arms outstretched
And I'll catch them and spin them in the garden
And sing to them at night
And make-up fairy tales exactly to their specifications
When I was little, and even not so little, thoughts of marriage and children made me feel a bit nauseous...and I've wondered what on earth is the matter with me.
Something's happened though, I think, something's changed. Now, though my mind does not often lend itself to thoughts of these things... whenever it does, I smile.
~~ Katie Powell
Keeper of the Springs
Keepers of the SpringsBy Peter , c. 1942
(Peter Marshall immigrated to America from Scotland, possibly in the early 1930's. He loved his new country and reached many new opportunities in his life, but he saw the warning signs of women abandoning their responsibilities as wives, mothers and keepers of the home. In this sermon, he warns Americans of the tragic outcome, and shows the true greatness and potential of womanhood.)
Once upon a time, a certain town grew up at the foot of a mountain range. It was sheltered in the lee of the protecting heights, so that the wind that shuddered at the doors and flung handfuls of sleet against the window panes was a wind whose fury was spent.
High up in the hills, a strange and quiet forest dweller took it upon himself to be the Keeper of the Springs. He patrolled the hills and wherever he found a spring, he cleaned its brown pool of silt and fallen leaves, of mud and mold and took away from the spring all foreign matter, so that the water which bubbled up through the sand ran down clean and cold and pure. It leaped sparkling over rocks and dropped joyously in crystal cascades until, swollen by other streams, it became a river of life to the busy town. Millwheels were whirled by its rush.
Gardens were refreshed by its waters. Fountains threw it like diamonds into the air. Swans sailed on its limpid surface, and children laughed as they played on its banks in the sunshine.
But the City Council was a group of hard-headed, hard-boiled businessmen.
They scanned the civic budget and found in it the salary of a Keeper of the Springs. Said the Keeper of the Purse: "Why should we pay this romance ranger? We never see him; he is not necessary to our town's work life. If we build a reservoir just above the town, we can dispense with his services and save his salary." Therefore, the City Council voted to dispense with the unnecessary cost of a Keeper of the Springs, and to build a cement reservoir.
So the Keeper of the Springs no longer visited the brown pools but watched from the heights while they built the reservoir. When it was finished, it soon filled up with water, to be sure, but the water did not seem to be the same. It did not seem to be as clean, and a green scum soon befouled its stagnant surface.
There were constant troubles with the delicate machinery of the mills, for it was often clogged with slime, and the swans found another home above the town. At last, an epidemic raged, and the clammy, yellow fingers of sickness reached into every home in every street and lane.
The City Council met again. Sorrowfully, it faced the city's plight, and frankly it acknowledged the mistake of the dismissal of the Keeper of the Springs. They sought him out of his hermit hut high in the hills, and begged him to return to his former joyous labor. Gladly he agreed, and began once more to make his rounds.
It was not long until pure water came lilting down under tunnels of ferns and mosses and to sparkle in the cleansed reservoir. Millwheels turned again as of old. Stenches disappeared. Sickness waned and convalescent children playing in the sun laughed again because the swans had come back.
Do not think me fanciful, too imaginiative or too extravagant in my language when I say that I think of women, and particularly of our mothers, as Keepers of the Springs. The phrase, while poetic, is true and descriptive. We feel its warmth...its softening influence...and however forgetful we have been...however much we have taken for granted life's precious gifts, we are conscious of wistful memories that surge out of the past--the sweet, tender, poignant fragrances of love.
Nothing that has been said, nothing that could be said, or that ever will be said, would be eloquent enough, expressive enough, or adequate to make articulate that peculiar emotion we feel to our mothers. So I shall make my tribute a plea for Keepers of the Springs, who will be faithful to their tasks.
There never has been a time when there was a greater need for Keepers of the Springs, or when there were more polluted springs to be cleansed. If the home fails, the country is doomed. The breakdown of homelife and influence will mark the breakdown of the nation. If the Keepers of the Springs desert their posts or are unfaithful to their responsibilities, the future outlook of this country is black, indeed.
This generation needs Keepers of the Springs who will be courageous enough to cleanse the springs that have been polluted. It is not an easy task--nor is it a popular one, but it must be done for the sake of the children, and the young women of today must do it.
The emancipation of womanhood began with Christianity, and it ends with Christianity. It had its beginning one night nineteen hundred years ago when there came to a woman named Mary a vision and a message from heaven. She saw the rifted clouds of glory and the hidden battlements of heaven.
She heard an angelic annunciation of the almost incredible news that she, of all the women on earth...of all the Marys in history...was to be the only one who should ever wear entwined the red rose of maternity and the white rose of virginity. It was told her--and all Keepers of the Springs know how such messages come--that she should be the mother of the Savior of the world.
It was nineteen hundred years ago "when Jesus Himself a baby deigned to be and bathed in baby tears His deity"...and on that night, when that tiny Child lay in the straw of Bethlehem, began the emancipation of womanhood.
When He grew up and began to teach the way of life, He ushered woman into a new place in human relations. He accorded her a new dignity and crowned her with a new glory, so that wherever the Christian evangel has gone for nineteen centuries, the daughters of Mary have been respected, revered, remembered, and loved, f or men have recognized that womanhood is a sacred and a noble thing, that women are of finer clay...are more in touch with the angels of God and have the noblest function that life affords. Wherever Christianity has spread, for nineteen hundred years men have bowed and adored.
It remained for the twentieth century, in the name of progress, in the name of tolerance, in the name of broadmindedness, in the name of freedom, to pull her down from her throne and try to make her like a man.
She wanted equality. For nineteen hundred years she had not been equal--she had been superior. But now, they said, she wanted equality, and in order to obtain it, she had to step down. And so it is, that in the name of broadminded tolerance, a man's vices have now become a woman's.
Twentieth-century tolerance has won for woman the right to become intoxicated, the right to have an alcoholic breath, the right to smoke, to work like a man to act like a man--for is she not man's equal? Today they call it "progress"...but tomorrow,oh, you Keepers of the Springs, they must be made to see that it is not progress.
No nation has ever made any progress in a downward direction. No people ever became great by lowering their standards. No people ever became good by adopting a looser morality. It is not progress when the moral tone is lower than it was. It is not progress when purity is not as sweet. It is not progress when womanhood has lost its fragrance. Whatever else it is, it is not progress!
We need Keepers of the Springs who will realize that what is socially correct may not be morally right. Our country needs today women who will lead us back to an old-fashioned morality, to an old fashioned decency, to an old fashioned purity and sweetness for the sake of the next generation, if for no other reason.
This generation has seen an entirely new type of womanhood emerge from the bewildering confusion of ourtime. We have in the United States today a higher standard of living than in any other country, or at any other time in the world's history.
We have more automobiles, more picture shows, more telephones, more money, more swing bands, more radios, more television sets, more nightclubs, more crime, and more divorce than any other nation in the world. Modern mothers want their children to enjoy the advantages of this new day.
They want them, if possible, to have a college diploma to hang on their bedroom wall, and what many of them regard as equally important--a bid to a fraternity or a sorority. They are desperately anxious that their daughters will be popular, although the price of this popularity may not be considered until it is too late. In short, they want their children to succeed, but the usual definition of success, in keeping with the trend of our day, is largely materialistic.
The result of all this is that the modern child is brought up in a decent, cultured, comfortable, but thoroughly irreligious home. All around us, living in the very shadow of our large churches and beautiful cathedrals, children are growing up without a particle of religious training or influence. The parents of such children have usually completely given up the search for religious moorings.
At first, they probably had some sort of vague idealism as to what their children should be taught. They recall something of the religious instruction received when they were children, and they feel that something like that ought to be passed on to the children today, but they can't do it, because the simple truth is that they have nothing to give.
Our modern broadmindedness has taken religious education out of the day schools. Our modern way of living and our modern irreligion have taken it out of the homes.
There remains only one place where it may be obtained, and that is in the Sunday School, but it is no longer fashionable to attend Sunday School. The result is that there is very little religious education, and parents who lack it themselves are not able to give it to their children--so it is a case of "the blind leading the blind," and both children and parents will almost invariably end up in the ditch of uncertainty and irreligion.
As you think of your own mother, remembering her with love and gratitude--in wishful yearning, or lonely longing, I am quite sure that the memories that warm and soften your heart are not at all like the memories the children of today will have... For you are, no doubt, remembering the smell of fresh starch in your mother's apron or the smell of a newly ironed blouse, the smell of newly baked bread, the fragrance of the violets she had pinned on her breast. It would be such a pity if all that one could remember would be the aroma of toasted tobacco or nicotine and the odor of beer on the breath!
The challenge of the twentieth-century motherhood is as old as motherhood itself. Although the average American mother has advantages that pioneer women never knew--material advantages: education, culture, advances made by science and medicine; although the modern mother knows a great deal more about sterilization, diets, health, calories, germs, drugs, medicines and vitamins, than her mother did, there is one subject about which she does not know as much--and that is God.
The modern challenge to motherhood is the eternal challenge--that of being a godly woman. The very phrase sounds strange in our ears. We never hear it now. We hear about every other kind of women--beautiful women, smart women, sophisticated women, career woman, talented women, divorced women, but so seldom do we hear of a godly woman--or of a godly man either, for that matter.
I believe women come nearer fulfilling their God-given function in the home than anywhere else. It is a much nobler thing to be a good wife than to be Miss America. It is a greater achievement to establish a Christian home than it is to produce a second-rate novel filled with filth. It is a far, far better thing in the realm of morals to be old-fashioned than to be ultramodern. The world has enough women who know how to hold their cocktails, who have lost all their illusions and their faith. The world has enough women who know how to be smart.
It needs women who are willing to be simple. The world has enough women who know how to be brilliant. It needs some who will be brave. The world has enough women who are popular. It needs more who are pure. We need woman, and men, too, who would rather be morally right that socially correct.
Let us not fool ourselves--without Christianity, without Christian education, without the principles of Christ inculcated into young life, we are simply rearing pagans. Physically, they will be perfect. Intellectually, they will be brilliant. But spiritually, they will be pagan. Let us not fool ourselves. The school is making no attempt to teach the principles of Christ. The Church alone cannot do it. They can never be taught to a child unless the mother herself knows them and practices them every day.
If you have no prayer life yourself, it is rather a useless gesture to make your child say his prayers every night. If you never enter a church it is rather futile to send your child to Sunday school. If you make a practice of telling social lies, it will be difficult to teach your child to be truthful. If you say cutting things about your neighbors and about fellow members in the church, it will be hard for your child to learn the meaning of kindness.
The twentieth-century challenge to motherhood--when it is all boiled down--is that mothers will have an experience of God...a reality which they can pass on to their children. For the newest of the sciences is beginning to realize, after a study of the teachings of Christ from the standpoint of psychology, that only as human beings discover and follow these inexorable spiritual laws will they find the happiness and contentment which we all seek.
A minister tells of going to a hospital to visit a mother whose first child had been born. She was a distinctly modern girl. Her home was about average for young married people. "When I came into the room she was propped up in bed writing. 'Come in,' she said, smiling. 'I'm in the midst of housecleaning, and I want your help.' I had never heard of a woman housecleaning while in a hospital bed. Her smile was contagious--she seemed to have found a new and jolly idea. "'I've had a wonderful chance to think here,' she began, 'and it may help me to get things straightened out in my mind if I can talk to you.'
She put down her pencil and pad, and folded her hands. Then she took a long breath and started: 'Ever since I was a little girl, I hated any sort of restraint. I always wanted to be free. When I finished high school, I took a business course and got a job--not because I needed the money--but because I wanted to be on my own. Before Joe and I were married, we used to say that we would not be slaves to each other. And after we married, our apartment became headquarters for a crowd just like us. We weren't really bad--but we did just what we pleased.'
She stopped for a minute and smiled ruefully. 'God didn't mean much to us--we ignored Him. None of us wanted children--or we thought we didn't. And when I knew I was going to have a baby, I was afraid.' She stopped again and looked puzzled. 'Isn't it funny, the things you used to think? She had almost forgotten I was there--she was speaking to the old girl she had been before her great adventure. Then remembering me suddenly--she went on: 'Where was I? Oh, yes, well, things are different now. I'm not free any more and I don't want to be. And the first thing I must do is to clean house.'
Here she picked up the sheet of paper lying on the counterpane. 'That's my housecleaning list. You see, when I take Betty home from the hospital with me--our apartment will be her home--not just mine and Joe's. And it isn't fit for her now. Certain things will have to go--for Betty's sake. And I've got to houseclean my heart and mind. I'm not just myself--I'm Betty's mother. And that means I need God. I can't do my job without Him. Won't you pray for Betty and me and Joe, and for our new home?'
And I saw in her all the mothers of today--mothers in tiny apartments and on lonely farms...Mothers in great houses and in suburban cottages, who are meeting the age-old challenge--' that of bringing up their children to the love and knowledge of God.' And I seemed to see our Savior--with His arms full of children of far-away Judea--saying to that mother and to all mothers--the old invitation so much needed in these times: 'Suffer the little children to come unto me and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of God.'
I believe that this generation of young people has courage enough to face the challenging future. I believe that their idealism is not dead. I believe that they have the same bravery and the same devotion to the things worthwhile that their grandmothers had. I have every confidence that they are anxious to preserve the best of our heritage, and God knows if we lose it here in this country, it is forever gone. I believe that the women of today will not be unmindful of their responsibilities; that is why I have dared to speak so honestly. Keepers of the Springs, we salute you!
Our Father, remove from us the sophistication of our age and the skepticism that has come, like frost, to blight our faith and to make it weak. We pray for a return of that simple faith, that old fashioned trust in God, that made strong and great the homes of our ancestors who built this good land and who in building left us our heritage. In the strong name of Jesus, our Lord, we make this prayer, Amen.
Peter Marshall was the U.S. Senate Chaplain from 1946-48 during the presidency of Harry Truman, and died in 1949. He was born in Scotland and was known for his passionate preaching and deep conviction, as well as his picturesque speech.
(Peter Marshall immigrated to America from Scotland, possibly in the early 1930's. He loved his new country and reached many new opportunities in his life, but he saw the warning signs of women abandoning their responsibilities as wives, mothers and keepers of the home. In this sermon, he warns Americans of the tragic outcome, and shows the true greatness and potential of womanhood.)
Once upon a time, a certain town grew up at the foot of a mountain range. It was sheltered in the lee of the protecting heights, so that the wind that shuddered at the doors and flung handfuls of sleet against the window panes was a wind whose fury was spent.
High up in the hills, a strange and quiet forest dweller took it upon himself to be the Keeper of the Springs. He patrolled the hills and wherever he found a spring, he cleaned its brown pool of silt and fallen leaves, of mud and mold and took away from the spring all foreign matter, so that the water which bubbled up through the sand ran down clean and cold and pure. It leaped sparkling over rocks and dropped joyously in crystal cascades until, swollen by other streams, it became a river of life to the busy town. Millwheels were whirled by its rush.
Gardens were refreshed by its waters. Fountains threw it like diamonds into the air. Swans sailed on its limpid surface, and children laughed as they played on its banks in the sunshine.
But the City Council was a group of hard-headed, hard-boiled businessmen.
They scanned the civic budget and found in it the salary of a Keeper of the Springs. Said the Keeper of the Purse: "Why should we pay this romance ranger? We never see him; he is not necessary to our town's work life. If we build a reservoir just above the town, we can dispense with his services and save his salary." Therefore, the City Council voted to dispense with the unnecessary cost of a Keeper of the Springs, and to build a cement reservoir.
So the Keeper of the Springs no longer visited the brown pools but watched from the heights while they built the reservoir. When it was finished, it soon filled up with water, to be sure, but the water did not seem to be the same. It did not seem to be as clean, and a green scum soon befouled its stagnant surface.
There were constant troubles with the delicate machinery of the mills, for it was often clogged with slime, and the swans found another home above the town. At last, an epidemic raged, and the clammy, yellow fingers of sickness reached into every home in every street and lane.
The City Council met again. Sorrowfully, it faced the city's plight, and frankly it acknowledged the mistake of the dismissal of the Keeper of the Springs. They sought him out of his hermit hut high in the hills, and begged him to return to his former joyous labor. Gladly he agreed, and began once more to make his rounds.
It was not long until pure water came lilting down under tunnels of ferns and mosses and to sparkle in the cleansed reservoir. Millwheels turned again as of old. Stenches disappeared. Sickness waned and convalescent children playing in the sun laughed again because the swans had come back.
Do not think me fanciful, too imaginiative or too extravagant in my language when I say that I think of women, and particularly of our mothers, as Keepers of the Springs. The phrase, while poetic, is true and descriptive. We feel its warmth...its softening influence...and however forgetful we have been...however much we have taken for granted life's precious gifts, we are conscious of wistful memories that surge out of the past--the sweet, tender, poignant fragrances of love.
Nothing that has been said, nothing that could be said, or that ever will be said, would be eloquent enough, expressive enough, or adequate to make articulate that peculiar emotion we feel to our mothers. So I shall make my tribute a plea for Keepers of the Springs, who will be faithful to their tasks.
There never has been a time when there was a greater need for Keepers of the Springs, or when there were more polluted springs to be cleansed. If the home fails, the country is doomed. The breakdown of homelife and influence will mark the breakdown of the nation. If the Keepers of the Springs desert their posts or are unfaithful to their responsibilities, the future outlook of this country is black, indeed.
This generation needs Keepers of the Springs who will be courageous enough to cleanse the springs that have been polluted. It is not an easy task--nor is it a popular one, but it must be done for the sake of the children, and the young women of today must do it.
The emancipation of womanhood began with Christianity, and it ends with Christianity. It had its beginning one night nineteen hundred years ago when there came to a woman named Mary a vision and a message from heaven. She saw the rifted clouds of glory and the hidden battlements of heaven.
She heard an angelic annunciation of the almost incredible news that she, of all the women on earth...of all the Marys in history...was to be the only one who should ever wear entwined the red rose of maternity and the white rose of virginity. It was told her--and all Keepers of the Springs know how such messages come--that she should be the mother of the Savior of the world.
It was nineteen hundred years ago "when Jesus Himself a baby deigned to be and bathed in baby tears His deity"...and on that night, when that tiny Child lay in the straw of Bethlehem, began the emancipation of womanhood.
When He grew up and began to teach the way of life, He ushered woman into a new place in human relations. He accorded her a new dignity and crowned her with a new glory, so that wherever the Christian evangel has gone for nineteen centuries, the daughters of Mary have been respected, revered, remembered, and loved, f or men have recognized that womanhood is a sacred and a noble thing, that women are of finer clay...are more in touch with the angels of God and have the noblest function that life affords. Wherever Christianity has spread, for nineteen hundred years men have bowed and adored.
It remained for the twentieth century, in the name of progress, in the name of tolerance, in the name of broadmindedness, in the name of freedom, to pull her down from her throne and try to make her like a man.
She wanted equality. For nineteen hundred years she had not been equal--she had been superior. But now, they said, she wanted equality, and in order to obtain it, she had to step down. And so it is, that in the name of broadminded tolerance, a man's vices have now become a woman's.
Twentieth-century tolerance has won for woman the right to become intoxicated, the right to have an alcoholic breath, the right to smoke, to work like a man to act like a man--for is she not man's equal? Today they call it "progress"...but tomorrow,oh, you Keepers of the Springs, they must be made to see that it is not progress.
No nation has ever made any progress in a downward direction. No people ever became great by lowering their standards. No people ever became good by adopting a looser morality. It is not progress when the moral tone is lower than it was. It is not progress when purity is not as sweet. It is not progress when womanhood has lost its fragrance. Whatever else it is, it is not progress!
We need Keepers of the Springs who will realize that what is socially correct may not be morally right. Our country needs today women who will lead us back to an old-fashioned morality, to an old fashioned decency, to an old fashioned purity and sweetness for the sake of the next generation, if for no other reason.
This generation has seen an entirely new type of womanhood emerge from the bewildering confusion of ourtime. We have in the United States today a higher standard of living than in any other country, or at any other time in the world's history.
We have more automobiles, more picture shows, more telephones, more money, more swing bands, more radios, more television sets, more nightclubs, more crime, and more divorce than any other nation in the world. Modern mothers want their children to enjoy the advantages of this new day.
They want them, if possible, to have a college diploma to hang on their bedroom wall, and what many of them regard as equally important--a bid to a fraternity or a sorority. They are desperately anxious that their daughters will be popular, although the price of this popularity may not be considered until it is too late. In short, they want their children to succeed, but the usual definition of success, in keeping with the trend of our day, is largely materialistic.
The result of all this is that the modern child is brought up in a decent, cultured, comfortable, but thoroughly irreligious home. All around us, living in the very shadow of our large churches and beautiful cathedrals, children are growing up without a particle of religious training or influence. The parents of such children have usually completely given up the search for religious moorings.
At first, they probably had some sort of vague idealism as to what their children should be taught. They recall something of the religious instruction received when they were children, and they feel that something like that ought to be passed on to the children today, but they can't do it, because the simple truth is that they have nothing to give.
Our modern broadmindedness has taken religious education out of the day schools. Our modern way of living and our modern irreligion have taken it out of the homes.
There remains only one place where it may be obtained, and that is in the Sunday School, but it is no longer fashionable to attend Sunday School. The result is that there is very little religious education, and parents who lack it themselves are not able to give it to their children--so it is a case of "the blind leading the blind," and both children and parents will almost invariably end up in the ditch of uncertainty and irreligion.
As you think of your own mother, remembering her with love and gratitude--in wishful yearning, or lonely longing, I am quite sure that the memories that warm and soften your heart are not at all like the memories the children of today will have... For you are, no doubt, remembering the smell of fresh starch in your mother's apron or the smell of a newly ironed blouse, the smell of newly baked bread, the fragrance of the violets she had pinned on her breast. It would be such a pity if all that one could remember would be the aroma of toasted tobacco or nicotine and the odor of beer on the breath!
The challenge of the twentieth-century motherhood is as old as motherhood itself. Although the average American mother has advantages that pioneer women never knew--material advantages: education, culture, advances made by science and medicine; although the modern mother knows a great deal more about sterilization, diets, health, calories, germs, drugs, medicines and vitamins, than her mother did, there is one subject about which she does not know as much--and that is God.
The modern challenge to motherhood is the eternal challenge--that of being a godly woman. The very phrase sounds strange in our ears. We never hear it now. We hear about every other kind of women--beautiful women, smart women, sophisticated women, career woman, talented women, divorced women, but so seldom do we hear of a godly woman--or of a godly man either, for that matter.
I believe women come nearer fulfilling their God-given function in the home than anywhere else. It is a much nobler thing to be a good wife than to be Miss America. It is a greater achievement to establish a Christian home than it is to produce a second-rate novel filled with filth. It is a far, far better thing in the realm of morals to be old-fashioned than to be ultramodern. The world has enough women who know how to hold their cocktails, who have lost all their illusions and their faith. The world has enough women who know how to be smart.
It needs women who are willing to be simple. The world has enough women who know how to be brilliant. It needs some who will be brave. The world has enough women who are popular. It needs more who are pure. We need woman, and men, too, who would rather be morally right that socially correct.
Let us not fool ourselves--without Christianity, without Christian education, without the principles of Christ inculcated into young life, we are simply rearing pagans. Physically, they will be perfect. Intellectually, they will be brilliant. But spiritually, they will be pagan. Let us not fool ourselves. The school is making no attempt to teach the principles of Christ. The Church alone cannot do it. They can never be taught to a child unless the mother herself knows them and practices them every day.
If you have no prayer life yourself, it is rather a useless gesture to make your child say his prayers every night. If you never enter a church it is rather futile to send your child to Sunday school. If you make a practice of telling social lies, it will be difficult to teach your child to be truthful. If you say cutting things about your neighbors and about fellow members in the church, it will be hard for your child to learn the meaning of kindness.
The twentieth-century challenge to motherhood--when it is all boiled down--is that mothers will have an experience of God...a reality which they can pass on to their children. For the newest of the sciences is beginning to realize, after a study of the teachings of Christ from the standpoint of psychology, that only as human beings discover and follow these inexorable spiritual laws will they find the happiness and contentment which we all seek.
A minister tells of going to a hospital to visit a mother whose first child had been born. She was a distinctly modern girl. Her home was about average for young married people. "When I came into the room she was propped up in bed writing. 'Come in,' she said, smiling. 'I'm in the midst of housecleaning, and I want your help.' I had never heard of a woman housecleaning while in a hospital bed. Her smile was contagious--she seemed to have found a new and jolly idea. "'I've had a wonderful chance to think here,' she began, 'and it may help me to get things straightened out in my mind if I can talk to you.'
She put down her pencil and pad, and folded her hands. Then she took a long breath and started: 'Ever since I was a little girl, I hated any sort of restraint. I always wanted to be free. When I finished high school, I took a business course and got a job--not because I needed the money--but because I wanted to be on my own. Before Joe and I were married, we used to say that we would not be slaves to each other. And after we married, our apartment became headquarters for a crowd just like us. We weren't really bad--but we did just what we pleased.'
She stopped for a minute and smiled ruefully. 'God didn't mean much to us--we ignored Him. None of us wanted children--or we thought we didn't. And when I knew I was going to have a baby, I was afraid.' She stopped again and looked puzzled. 'Isn't it funny, the things you used to think? She had almost forgotten I was there--she was speaking to the old girl she had been before her great adventure. Then remembering me suddenly--she went on: 'Where was I? Oh, yes, well, things are different now. I'm not free any more and I don't want to be. And the first thing I must do is to clean house.'
Here she picked up the sheet of paper lying on the counterpane. 'That's my housecleaning list. You see, when I take Betty home from the hospital with me--our apartment will be her home--not just mine and Joe's. And it isn't fit for her now. Certain things will have to go--for Betty's sake. And I've got to houseclean my heart and mind. I'm not just myself--I'm Betty's mother. And that means I need God. I can't do my job without Him. Won't you pray for Betty and me and Joe, and for our new home?'
And I saw in her all the mothers of today--mothers in tiny apartments and on lonely farms...Mothers in great houses and in suburban cottages, who are meeting the age-old challenge--' that of bringing up their children to the love and knowledge of God.' And I seemed to see our Savior--with His arms full of children of far-away Judea--saying to that mother and to all mothers--the old invitation so much needed in these times: 'Suffer the little children to come unto me and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of God.'
I believe that this generation of young people has courage enough to face the challenging future. I believe that their idealism is not dead. I believe that they have the same bravery and the same devotion to the things worthwhile that their grandmothers had. I have every confidence that they are anxious to preserve the best of our heritage, and God knows if we lose it here in this country, it is forever gone. I believe that the women of today will not be unmindful of their responsibilities; that is why I have dared to speak so honestly. Keepers of the Springs, we salute you!
Our Father, remove from us the sophistication of our age and the skepticism that has come, like frost, to blight our faith and to make it weak. We pray for a return of that simple faith, that old fashioned trust in God, that made strong and great the homes of our ancestors who built this good land and who in building left us our heritage. In the strong name of Jesus, our Lord, we make this prayer, Amen.
Peter Marshall was the U.S. Senate Chaplain from 1946-48 during the presidency of Harry Truman, and died in 1949. He was born in Scotland and was known for his passionate preaching and deep conviction, as well as his picturesque speech.
The Sewing Craze
Rebecca, Susie, and I found this beautiful green fabric in a dollar a yard bin. We all loved it, the result, we bought the whole bolt of material. Rebecca made her dress and Susie's. I made mine.
I used Mrs. Chancey's Romantic Dress Pattern I've used the pattern before, but this dress was quite a challenge. I ended up making 2 bodices since the neckline on the first one was goofy and the shoulder seams we weird and uncomfortable. I don't know what I did different to the 2nd, but as you can see, it worked. :)
Yes, I'm the goof ball of the family, in case you couldn't tell. There are more pictures at Rebecca's Blog
Check back next week for pictures of the suit I am making Luke, he'll be so cute!!
Music of the Heart
I've been on a mad sewing frenzy the last few weeks. I was making a romantic dress for myself and I ran into quite a few problems *pulls hair out* Luckily I finally finished at 11:30 last night. I will post pictures when I get them uploaded later..
Anyway I turned the Hallmark channel on Thursday night to see if there was anything to watch while I worked. Music of the Heart was on. We saw it years ago. It's a true story about a woman who started a violin class in East Harlem. It's an amazing story. Well, being a musician I really like it. My favorite part of all is in the very end when they play in Carnegie Hall with Issac Stern, Itzak Perlman, Joshua Bell, Arnold Steinhart, Mark O'Connor, and more. I loved it! Something I can totally relate to. And Carnegie Hall, *sigh* I've always wanted to play, go to even, in Carnegie. The place where all the great musicians have played. Where you can stand on the stage and still hear the music. I mean yes of course there is probably not good spiritual stuff there. I'd just be cool to stand where so many great people have stood. To stand where Isaac stood played many times... Anyway, good movie, there is a part or two that are un-necessaries. But otherwise.
Anyway I turned the Hallmark channel on Thursday night to see if there was anything to watch while I worked. Music of the Heart was on. We saw it years ago. It's a true story about a woman who started a violin class in East Harlem. It's an amazing story. Well, being a musician I really like it. My favorite part of all is in the very end when they play in Carnegie Hall with Issac Stern, Itzak Perlman, Joshua Bell, Arnold Steinhart, Mark O'Connor, and more. I loved it! Something I can totally relate to. And Carnegie Hall, *sigh* I've always wanted to play, go to even, in Carnegie. The place where all the great musicians have played. Where you can stand on the stage and still hear the music. I mean yes of course there is probably not good spiritual stuff there. I'd just be cool to stand where so many great people have stood. To stand where Isaac stood played many times... Anyway, good movie, there is a part or two that are un-necessaries. But otherwise.
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About Me
- Katie
- I am a daughter of God who is striving to do and be all that God has for me. I'm a pretty normal person, kinda goofy at times, but I can be a dear. If I try :) I always try to be happy and I'm never lazy, I've tried, it doesn't agree with me. Once you meet me you'll never want for entertainment :)