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happyhobbitgirl
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Name: Rael
Gender: Female
Interests: I love reading, writing, drawing, and beautiful music (Celtic, Christian, and movie soundtracks). I am a definite Ringer, a NarniaWebber, and I may soon become a Treckie. ;) But deeper than these loves is my love for Christ, and because of what He has done for me I am a Christian. I am a fan of Homeschooling, Family, my country, and men and women who stand up for the truth.
Expertise: I can draw fairly well, and I also like calligraphy. I play and teach piano, and I am an amature on the pennywhistle. I enjoy writing, reviewing other people's works, and dreaming up all the stories I plan to write someday. ;) I am trying to be a student of the Bible, though I am by no means an expert. But God doesn't need walking dictionaries; He seeks moldable clay, and this is my highest ambition.
Occupation: Student
Message: message meEmail: email me
Website: visit my website
Member Since:
1/9/2005
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In
footie pajamas or Sunday best, us kids were often called upon to give
recitations when I was little. We lined up on the raised brick in front
of the fireplace, singing rousing versions of "The Battle of New Orleans" or "Great Granddad." To the last, we always added the crucial "Hm, musta stuck to him!"
Why did these memories awake? This morning's Bible reading.
He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will abide in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say to the LORD, "My refuge and my fortress,
my God, in whom I trust."
We
memorized a good bit of Psalm 91, and it was often part of the
recitals. We spouted it off quickly, as children often do with any
memorized words But the lyrical quality of the first glorious sentence
stayed with me.
And images quietly engraved themselves.
Fiery arrows raining down.
Huge wings to hide under.
Over my childhood years, these wings grew in my mind. They protected and nurtured like those of Fledge the winged horse, though of course much bigger. Like the golden wings of the great eagle in Rescuers Down Under, though these wings never needed rescuing.
Part
of my "grown-up" self is revolted at the idea of comparing God with
something birdlike. Birds can be rather nasty, even mean. But perhaps
angels had wings before birds even were, so wings may not be
essentially bird-ish. And maybe birds are only meant to reflect in some small yet tangible aspect something about their Maker.
He wants me to run and hide under His wings now, as readily as that child on the fireplace brick.
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|    Greetings from Lady Rael's seamstress corner!
Today after a wonderful time at the used-book store (everything was 75% off!), lunch, a nap, and reading (Brother Andrew's book Light Force ), I set myself to work on costumes. Time is slipping away!
I'm
almost to the hemming stage on Whit's, and am having a jolly time on my
grandmother's clackity Singer whilst listening to the antics of Agatha
Christie's Partners in Crime . Tommy's just got into a scrape, and I ought to get back to work so Tuppence can get him out of it.
Right ho, old beans, I'm off then! 
(By
the by, the gel in the picture is the Lady of Shallot in her tower, I
think. I'm certianly glad I'm not doing a huge complicated tapestry,
and can look out the window without danger! But her hair is a bit like
mine, though it doesn't always fly upward... ;) And her dress is quite
loverly!) | | |
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This
was a gift from one of the three boys in the younger group of kids at
the art camp. I was told the figure on the left is him, the larger face
in the middle is me, and I think the wonderful lips floating on the
right would have made Larry the Cucumber happy.
Little
Diego... Didn't he do an amazing job of writing his name perfectly
backwards? He was probably about seven years old, and just made my
heart want to melt. Always had something to tell me, with the wide eyes
of one who craves attention. The two other little boys were cute and
hilarious, but I was drawn to Diego. He had a bit of a stutter, so
sometimes his narrations dragged on. I loved them.
One
day he had a bad case of asthma and couldn't come to art camp. I used
to have trouble with asthma too. Again, my heart went out to him.
Sometimes
I wonder why God gave me so much experience with brothers (all five of
them dear and different). Am I going to end up with a clan of
wonderfully wild lads of my own? Or will I be called to mother some
young fellow who's own can't. Long ago I thought I might work at an
missionary orphanage. I keep forgetting that longing, and it keeps
sneaking back. The Middle East, China, and Europe especially seem to
whisper.
I tend to
either jump at or completely ignore my visions. I must learn patience!
I don't know why the Lord seems to keep suggesting this area of
ministry, but that's okay. Maybe I'll end up as a missionary's wife.
Maybe I'm simply called to support missionaries from afar. Maybe some
day He'll show and lead me to do something daring, like Amy
Carmichael's mission to Indian girls, or maybe He wants me to open my
eyes to the needy here, to the suffering families on my block, in my
church.
Where is He calling me? May I never deafen my heart to His whisper, and season radical compassion with godly discernment.
Diego
didn't come today, the last morning of art camp. I missed him. The hole
his absence left reminds me to lift him to the Father, who knows and
loves boys so much more than I.
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Here's our cat. A while ago; she's much fatter now. Officially her name is Bella, but she's also known as the Rolly Polly kitten...
New posts on my other blog. It's late and I'm headed to bed, so if you're interested they're here. 
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Well, here I am, in the little house in the town again, with my mother and four very tall brothers. The youngest two have shot up while I was away, and Isaac turned 15 the day after I came back! But I was already their “little” big sister, so not too much has changed. ;)
I’ve only one more semester of this “there and back again” business. It’s funny, I seem to be making a habit of odd graduations. In homeschool I was in my own class and had my own ceremony (at a sweet little church, surrounded by dear friends and family). And I have no clue what December graduations are like, but I can already tell it will be strange to finish mid-year. Then it’s on to book-writing, hopefully and more adventures unknown!
One of the difficulties in Christian work is this question— “What do you expect to do?” You
do not know what you are going to do; the only thing you know is that
God knows what He is doing. Continually revise your attitude towards
God and see if it is a going out of everything, trusting in God
entirely. It is this attitude that keeps you in perpetual wonder— you do not know what God is going to do next. ~Oswald Chambers~
Perhaps I should carry this quote around with me to read to everyone who’s been asking this difficult question. Not that some plans are unwise. But I mustn’t let impertinent worry spoil this perpetual wonder!
P.S. For those of you who only know about my blog here, I have more posts over at my more regular (comparatively) blog at Reflective Beauty. 
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