The Great Depression of 1920 - Why No One Ever Talks About It - As A Mom...

The Great Depression of 1920 - Why No One Ever Talks About It - As A Mom...

This was a really interesting speech on the economic depression of 1920 and President Warren Harding's approach to that depression. The speech is about 49 minutes long but don't let that put you off. It is very good.

One Year

It was one year ago today that I had my first radiation treatment.

Laura had driven me down to the city on Thursday and stayed at Hope Lodge with me as my "caretaker" for the weekend. On Friday we went to have lunch with Ethan on Wall Street but he could not break free, so we decided to visit the Statue of Liberty and go to Ellis Island. Another day we did a practice subway run to the hospital, and only got mixed up once. We met my future friends on the ninth floor and settled into my new home for the next two months.

And now it is twelve months later and Laura is off on a new adventure of her own, Ethan has moved offices from Wall Street to Midtown, Jon is full fledged doctor and is working in Albany delivering foals, Eliizabeth has her home and garden projects finished and is working on a new unit, Christian started a second job and became an expert at chicken butchering and organic farming, we had a wonderful Nordberg/Skoglund/Fox girls week in Hilton Head with the "aunts", we moved my mother-in-law and brother-in-law up to Canton, I have a new garden shed, an expanded garden, a new venture underway and renewed energy and total hair restoration.

It's been quite a year!

And what I wrote in my journal before I left the North Country for that NYC adventure is still true:

"The whole earth is full of His glory. We, need to look out and see His everyday glory. Appreciate everyday epiphanies, our here and now beauties. Right now, today, there is a fat grey squirrel in the middle of winter, sitting on a slim crabapple branch outside my kitchen window, eating the last of the berries. Fluffly tail flashing- He's not worried- God is taking care of his needs."

Jesus, I Am Resting, Resting

Jesus, I am resting, resting In the joy of what Thou art,
I am finding out the greatness Of thy loving heart.
Thou hast bid me gaze upon Thee, And thy beauty fills my soul,
For by Thy transforming power, Thou hast made me whole.

Jesus, I am resting, resting, in the joy of what Thou art,
I am finding out the greatness of Thy loving heart.

Simply trusting Thee, Lord Jesus, I behold Thee as Thou art,
And Thy love, so pure, so changeless, Satisfies my heart;
Satisfies its deepest longings, Meet, supplies its every need,
Compasseth me round with blessings; Thine is love indeed!

Jesus, I am resting, resting, in the joy of what Thou art,
I am finding out the greatness of Thy loving heart.

Ever lift Thy face upon me, As I work and wait for Thee;
Resting "neath Thy smile, Lord Jesus, Earth's dark shadows flee,
Brightness of my Father's glory, Sunshine of my Father's face;
Keep me ever trusting, resting, Fill me with thy grace.

Jesus, I am resting, resting, in the joy of what Thou art,
I am finding out the greatness of Thy loving heart.


Each morning now and sometimes in the afternoon, I'm at the piano. My old hymnals out and my rusty fingers tentatively moving over the keys, great joy and peace in these wonderful old hymns. The melodies; beautiful, inspiring, and the words, encouraging and strengthenng.

Yes, Jesus, I am resting, resting. It's the only thing to do, but so hard at times. Seems like a simple concept but difficult to put into practice.

Thank you for the greatness of your loving heart!

The Newborn

Jon, Liz and I went over to friends the other day to see their newborn. All 150 pounds of him!



No spindly little legs like the throughbreds, on this young man! These are substantial limbs, made for pulling and driving. Quite a handsome little guy this one was but his mom kept him right behind her. She didn't want us to get too close to her pride and joy. But eventually, we stood there quietly, and then a strong stable hand came in to pull on his halter and get him close to us so we could have a proper, up close introduction.




Our friends told us that he nurses every 15 minutes. Wow! And some of us thought we had to nurse often! His mom has lost quite a bit of weight since the delivery,(not that anyone could tell), which she accomplished nicely without any help



They also have a beautiful chicken/duck coop. So they offer to take me to see it and gather some eggs. My first attempt was easy, the hen had left her nest and three were just sitting there. I did have to put my hand under this hen and get the two that she was sitting on. So much fun! And it wasn't smelly at all.

I think I can do it! But not right now. I have a few other things on my plate for the near future.

The Strength of a Pansy

The tenacity of this little volunteer pansy is amazing.

After the recent rains cleared away all the snow, my little purple and yellow friend was still managing to produce green leaves and purple flowers. We have had below zero temperatures for weeks and feet of snow but underneath all that the pansy kept on flowering. Despite and under all that adversity, growth. A lesson for strength of character. What does the Proverb say? "If you faint in the day of adversity, your strength is small".

That little glimpse of pansy brought me joy the last couple of days. But it went back to sleep last night under a new blanket of falling snow and temperatures.

Old Books

I unearthed another box of old books as I picked my way through our basement. It's not a New Years resolution, but we really must organize the basement.

Why?

Because in the last four years, three homes have become one here at 42. And we have no more room.

The latest newcomers to the basement were thrown hastily downstairs at the beginning of the summer and now have to be reviewed for their right to live here.

I had to smile when I saw these song books, Modern Quartets for Men, published in 1938. Wonderful old songs like Jesus Lover of My Soul, A New Name in Glory and Rise Up, O Men of God. Perhaps Rob, Ford, Rick and Bill would enjoy these melodies but I bet we could not induce the younger generation to sing along.

These books belonged to my father-in-law and we now know that in 1940 he lived at 140 East 50th Street in New York City. Only one block up from Ethan's current apartment.




This book caught my eye. Published in 1939, it belonged to my mother-in-law when she attended Philadelphia School of the Bible. It is written by a medical doctor who was a missionary in China for eighteen years, director of Missionary course at Moody Bible Institute and the home director for the China Inland Mission. I turn to the chapter on "Unoccupied Fields" and see the names of Mongolia,(Jon did a missions trip to Mongolia this year), Afghanistan, Russian Central Asia, Chinese Turkistan, Tibet and Nepal, Siberia and vast parts of Africa and South America. We have pressed forward in some of these fronts.




This is the sweetest little Swedish Bible. All fancied up with black velvet and a brass clasp with the notation of 1877 belonging to my mother-in-laws aunt.




This is a Sionsharpan which must mean hymnal in Swedish. It belonged to Robs grandfather who was a Swedish Covenant minister. And strange as it may seem, this past Sunday, we sat having lunch with people who had gone to his church in Conneticut and who knew two 90 year old sisters who had gone to church there their whole lives and must have sat under T.E. Nordberg's ministry.




Where this book came from I do not know. But it is an ancient copy of Andrew Murray's The Spirit of Christ. I have looked everywhere and there is no date, but at the end of the book in pencil is written, August 31, 1884. All I know is that the pages are yellow and brittle and when I opened the book the binding fell apart and I taped it together so I could read it. For those familiar with Andrew Murray, he often wrote in devotional style and this book is divided into 31 chapters and is perfect for devotional reading. I have read many books on the Holy Spirit, but non as deep and informational and inspiring as this one. If The Spirit of Christ is still in print I would encourage all to get a copy.

Old books have a history. People have touched them and loved them, kept them, valued and treasured them. Cherished their songs and melodies, received inspiration and direction, made notations in them, and put some of these small little treasures in their pockets or purses while traveling or on a journey. Love of the word.

Silence

My last peep has flown away back to the city. The others had left earlier, back to life at 34, a small cabin in New Hampshire and the last two weeks of an adventure in the midwest.

And there is silence here.

As I sit here gazing at the fire with the two remaining dogs snuggled in beside me on the couch, there is quiet in the house. Quiet here echoing the quiet of the snowy outside where blankets of snow muffle the sound of traffic and noises of the neighborhood.

Life seems to have stopped after the whirlwind activity of the last month. The month before Christmas is packed with a frenzy of baking. Getting out recipes penned in my mom's handwriting, and baking those traditional things that bring back memories of times and people. Plans for parties, decorating the tree and the dining room, setting lights in the windows to welcome back those who have been away, arranging my cheerful snowmen all around the kitchen to keep me company while cooking, shopping for stockings and presents, and rearranging bedrooms for homecoming family.

I do not mind the silence now. Christmas is over and now is the time for serenity and reflection and anticipation about the year ahead.

There are still reminders of a wonderful month lingering here. I will leave the tree up a bit longer and the table will remain set with the Wedgwood and holiday goblets. And I will continue to light the myriad of candles around the house each night, to enjoy their flickering light and comforting presence.

January is a stretch of peace. I do not go out much forced by the weather and choice to stay put in this warm abode. Organizational and cleaning projects will command some time and energy though.

And as I sit here enjoying the fire and looking at over 200 pictures appearing on my new digital photo frame, I once again learn the lesson of old photographs.

Cherish the day.

They are passing on quickly.