Family,
I got a packet of letters in the mail two days ago. How happy that made me! Thank you, Dear Ones! The receipt of a letter is easily the highlight of my day. Which is not to say that my days are dry, but rather that reading a letter from home is such joy! I really appreciate your thoughtfulness and encouragement.
Titus, Ruth, and Petra are in China for a week. Titus is kindly letting me borrow his guitar until he gets back. I hadn't realized how much I would miss home-made music, and now regret that I haven't made more of an effort to become proficient. I should love to buy myself a guitar, but will have to wait until I know whether or not I will be able to stay at Herb Farm. If I have to put down money on another apartment, the guitar will have to wait.
It struck me a few days ago that I am on purpose. What a beautiful thought! It's not just random chance that I'm not a bird or a tree or a stone. God looked down from His eternal glory and loved this beautiful world that He had created. His handiwork reflected His character, and He was pleased. But then he saw one life untouched, one work undone, one missing element to the continuity of His creation. He could have stretched and patched and improvised…but instead, He deliberately made me. I hope that my life may now be such that I may someday repeat Jesus' words, "I have glorified Thee on the earth: I have finished the work which Thou hast given me to do."
Counting on your Prayers,
Elisabeth
Friday, February 23, 2007
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Simple Pleasures
What delightful days these last four have been! Warm and clear; lovely in every respect. I have taken advantage of the weather by daily climbing the mountain near my house, an activity I have not enjoyed since winter began. It looks so different now than it did six months ago. The short, spindly trees are bare, and the earth, still covered with the brown leaves of autumn, is damp. At first I was disappointed by this contrast with the flourishing green of several months ago, but now I find it enchanting in it's own quiet way.
My room-mate, Teresa, will be leaving a week from today. The thought is unreal, so doesn't yet effect me one way or another. No doubt I'll miss her, but I know that rather with my head than with my heart, so I am able to help her pack, etc., with neither foreboding nor loneliness.
As one friend leaves, another comes. I will see Petra on Thursday, the anticipation of which is, contrary to the above, anything but unreal. I've no doubt of being heartily blessed and encouraged by her visit.
My back has been more sore, lately, than usual. The knot in my right shoulder, never quite absent, is tight and aches relentlessly. I suppose that the monotonous motions of knitting probably aggravate the mischief, though I occupy myself less with that now than before.
Rather, I have taken into my head the notion of making a rag rug. Teresa has a mountain of clothes to get rid of. I keep myself amused by tearing these into long, thin strips, to be later tied together and braided into that rug with which I hope to make the middle room more comfortable and homey. The prospect pleases me.
I have found a restaurant that gives free coffee refills! Teresa and I were dining comfortably together; I had no anticipation of any occurrence out of the ordinary. The coffee had been remarkably delicious, but came in that very small mug that indicates some stinginess on behalf of its server. Sitting thus, engaged in pleasant conversation, I was surprised to have my empty cup replaced with a full one. The surprise quickly gave way to a hearty benevolence. What warm and cozy feelings a good cup of coffee excites! Something akin to a blazing fire, or an intriguing book; the smell of chocolate, or the crisp sound of autumn leaves under foot. Simple pleasures, are after all, the fullest.
My room-mate, Teresa, will be leaving a week from today. The thought is unreal, so doesn't yet effect me one way or another. No doubt I'll miss her, but I know that rather with my head than with my heart, so I am able to help her pack, etc., with neither foreboding nor loneliness.
As one friend leaves, another comes. I will see Petra on Thursday, the anticipation of which is, contrary to the above, anything but unreal. I've no doubt of being heartily blessed and encouraged by her visit.
My back has been more sore, lately, than usual. The knot in my right shoulder, never quite absent, is tight and aches relentlessly. I suppose that the monotonous motions of knitting probably aggravate the mischief, though I occupy myself less with that now than before.
Rather, I have taken into my head the notion of making a rag rug. Teresa has a mountain of clothes to get rid of. I keep myself amused by tearing these into long, thin strips, to be later tied together and braided into that rug with which I hope to make the middle room more comfortable and homey. The prospect pleases me.
I have found a restaurant that gives free coffee refills! Teresa and I were dining comfortably together; I had no anticipation of any occurrence out of the ordinary. The coffee had been remarkably delicious, but came in that very small mug that indicates some stinginess on behalf of its server. Sitting thus, engaged in pleasant conversation, I was surprised to have my empty cup replaced with a full one. The surprise quickly gave way to a hearty benevolence. What warm and cozy feelings a good cup of coffee excites! Something akin to a blazing fire, or an intriguing book; the smell of chocolate, or the crisp sound of autumn leaves under foot. Simple pleasures, are after all, the fullest.
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