Old Stamp Collectors

"Old stamp collectors never die," I said to a friend one evening; "they just get returned to Sender."  She immediately popped back with: "Nancy, that was first class!"  

I am an old stamp collector, I'll admit it, even though the collection is long gone.  I suspect the fascination hit with my first postcard from an aunt vacationing an entire state away.  I saved the card (after all, receiving my own mail then was a Very Big Deal).  Having a great time, said aunty; the weather is good.  Wish you were here... and oh, how I wished it too.  Such exotic lands my relatives visited.  Ohio!  Peoria!  Kansas!  Des Moines!  The very names were colorful, as were the stamps on their cards.  I began a collection of both, poring over paper fragments of adventure on lazy afternoons. 

I knew I loved to travel; never mind that I never did.  I loved caves, too, although I'd never been in one.  I loved astronomy even if my view was limited to the blob of quivery moon I tried to focus on through a cardboard cereal-premium "telescope." ("send in 3 boxtops and 25 cents").  My sense of adventure was unbounded.  Actual travel?  Well, that was limited by my dad's job and a second-hand Chevrolet.  

My stamp collection is gone now, and I am very practical.  I buy stamps I really like, then stick them on envelopes to put them to good use.  I no longer have to imagine travel, I simply call it up from memories.  I've gone to numerous states and well beyond.. even to the other side of the earth.  Maybe I'll travel a lot more - who knows?  But regardless, there will always remain one Great Adventure.  I just pray for grace to look forward with anticipation to that one, and to the amazing experience of seeing face to Face my Sender.  He is bigger than the earth, more brilliant than the moon, grander than Des Moines.

"And men go abroad to admire the heights and mountains, the mighty billows of the sea, the long courses of rivers, the vast compass of the ocean, and the circular motion of the stars, and yet pass themselves by..."  (St. Augustine) 

(photo from US postal service via Wikimedia Commons)

Castle Delivery

Spain, 9 September 1576:  "I can truthfully say that your letters are such a consolation.  When I read the one and thought there were no more, I myself was surprised by the happiness I felt when I discovered another one; it was as as though I hadn't received the first.  You should then realize that your letters are a kind of recreation for me." ... from a letter of St. Teresa of Avila  

Finding these words today, I was surprised (and delighted) to learn that they were written by the  same woman who said, in that very year, "While in prayer one day, I felt my soul to be so deep in God that it didn't seem there was a world..." (from 'Spiritual Testimonies') 

St. Teresa of Avila, as we know, was one of the great mystics of the Church.  She experienced extraordinary depths of prayer and left us a map to the Interior Castle.  If anyone was ever "lost in God," it was she.  Yet she found happiness in the pages of a letter!  Being a lifelong lover of correspondence, I am thrilled to know that this was the case.

I suppose my delight is because I am an "aspirant" to the Interior Castle.  I would like it to be my home, my residence, my permanent address.  

It's nice to know that even the Castle gets mail.  

and the bird sings

"The other day, the little birds were singing in the woods.  I began to weep... I thought within myself, the good God has made you to sing, and you sing.  Yet man, who was created that he might love God, loves Him not!"... from St. John Vianney 

I have always loved birds. Back when I was penciling the first "breadbox letters," I had a parakeet in a cage in my room.  I especially loved to watch him sleep.  He would turn his head backwards and tuck beak into feathers, turn into a ball of fluff, and look like soft green velvet.  Every maternal instinct I had came bursting forth at such moments, and I tried to reach into the cage to stroke this wondrous grass-green creature.  But no.  He would not allow it.  He was always rather afraid of me, running to the other side of the cage when I approached.

When it comes to allowing God to love me completely, I wonder if I'm just a bit like that bird.  Oh, I don't mean to be.  I intend to love God with all my heart.  I was created to love Him, and that is what I want more than anything to do.  But sometimes, as I feel Him approaching more closely - could it be that I feel just a wee twinge of fear?

My Father's "Paternal Heart" ...  the Heart of the One Who MADE me ... longs to hold my heart close.  He wants me to experience the peace that comes from loving Him.  And so, at this very moment, I make again the decision to do so.  I will love Him.  By His grace, I will trust Him.

And who knows?  I might even sing.... 

"...how much more important you are than the birds..!"  (Luke 12: 24)

(painting on this post, by Henriette Browne, is in public domain)

home interiors

"To decorate their houses with religious pictures is a custom as old as Christianity itself, for the true Christian has always considered his home as nothing less than a temple of God; and the religious pictures as means to extend and preserve the spirit of Christianity in the home."  (St. John Vianney)

a reason for writing

 
"I attempt to be one of those who write because they have made some progress, and who, by means of writing, make further progress."

                                                                    (St. Augustine)

Linus and Lessons

Being a "homeschooled grandma," I continue to appreciate the lessons I'm taught by three pint- sized tutors.  Funny:  I missed such lessons when my own children were small.  But of course that isn't funny at all.. it's understandable.  I was busy with "At this moment everybody at once needs to be fed clothed diapered bathed held bandaged  corrected inspected collected and perfected." 

Not being the person responsible for getting everyone everywhere anymore, I take these years of  grandma-time to listen for the lessons.  I have found they are all around me.  "Linus," for instance, gave me a lesson on new year's day. 

I've long called this little one (now age 3) our "little Linus" because he has been a thumb sucker since birth, and for nearly two years he dragged his beloved blankie everywhere (to church, to the grocery, fishing on a muddy riverbank with Daddy..).  I suppose it's only appropriate, therefore, that little Linus has a streak of the philosopher within him.  I can easily imagine him marching onstage to explain what Christmas is really all about, Charlie Brown.

On New Year's day, Linus offered the grace before dinner.  His prayer was a string of thank-yous..  Thank you for Mommy and Daddy and Grandma and Pop and Mimi and the dog.  Thank you for food, and Christmas, and turkey; thank you for toys and fishing poles and my new game and snow.  And thank you God for cheese. 

We all sat with heads bowed, the aroma of cooling food reaching our nostrils, and patiently listened.  Every now and then someone would interject an "amen," which Linus saw not so much as an ending, but more of an "Amen, Brother!!!!!" as he continued on.

The lesson for me?  Primarily it was one of thanks.  I didn't look on Linus' grace as merely something cute; I joined in his thanksgiving, for I saw it as a real prayer.  I am sure God saw it that way, too.

I wonder.  What if I were to go through today thanking God for everything I think of, everything I see, everything in nature in which I see His hand?  Would this please Him?  Oh, I know it would.   Do I want to please God today?  Indeed I do.

So thank You, God for Linus and Lessons.  Thank you for Linus' sisters.  Thank you for sunshine and snowflakes and trees and gravy and lamplight and my family and a furnace and a house. 

And thank You God for cheese.

Through the Looking Glass

They're starting to arrive:  the cards, the notes, the updates from friends who cannot visit.  "I can't pop in for a quick cup of tea," the cards imply; "so I'm sending this in my stead.  Here's what's happening with us..."

It's one of my favorite things about Christmastime.  Hearing from people who take a few minutes to remember those who've been part of their lives.  Perhaps the years have separated us, maybe responsibilities have called us apart; in some cases we're victims of the "tyranny of distance."  But during the weeks surrounding Christmas Day, we reach out to one another almost as if time has stopped.  For me it does stop, if only for a few seconds, as I sit in the "lettered presence" of a friend.... 

"The accidents of life separate us from our dearest friends, but let us not despair.  God is like a looking glass in which souls see each other.  The more we are united to Him by love, the nearer we are to those who belong to Him."  (St. Elizabeth Ann Seton)

fighting fit and full of beans

I went on another breadbox dig and discovered something.  That is:  adventures in communicating bring smiles just when I need them.

USA

Dear Leena, 
   You said Minnie was ‘fighting fit,’ and I’m afraid this is an expression I do not know.  Oh dear.  Does this mean she’s not well? - Nancy

AUSTRALIA
Dear Nancy,

   I am sorry I did not allow for the fact that you might not know what ‘fighting fit’ means.  It means very well and ‘full of beans.’ Full of beans does not mean that one has devoured a can of Baked Beans for dinner, but it means that one is ‘on top of the world,’ which doesn’t mean one is sitting on the North Pole, but means that one feels as if one is ‘sparking on all fours,’ which doesn’t mean that one is a dog, a kangaroo, a squirrel or a chipmunk, but that one finds there are not enough hours in the day to achieve all one wants to achieve, so one becomes so frustrated that she goes in search of a toy to play with and discovers a yo-yo which is a thing on a string that one has to learn to ‘kinda bounce.’ Kinda bounce is a bit like ‘kinda dumb,’ which is what a favourite husband (namely yours) says when a car turns into his path and visiting Aussies gasp with ‘American fright.’ American fright is what Leena looks like when she gets out of bed every morning while visiting friends in the USA.

    I had better go and slam up a sandwich for lunch - Leena

some breadbox excavations

Going through “the breadbox” these last few days, I’ve been touched all over again by correspondence I’ve received.

Some letters illustrate truths.  “During the earthquake, a friend’s crucifix fell off the wall over her bed as she was sleeping.  She just grabbed it and held on.  I thought ‘and that’s how it is to be.’  During all the upheavals of our lives, we must hold on to HIM.” 

Some sweep me away to faraway places.  “G’day from the windswept, rain drenched north of the capes.  We’ve been out to the rocks, and watched the beach disappear under the hiss, froth and bubble of unrepentant waves…”  

Some bring a laugh.  “Our local government decided to override the people regarding time change.  Some of the objections to daylight savings time were:  Curtains fade with the longer hours of daylight.  Cows get confused about the time to come in for milking.  Now, I ask you…?!?”

In days to come, I’d like to share some rediscovered treasures.  I hope you’ll come along!