 To be glad of life,
because it gives you the chance to love and to work and to play and to look up at the stars; ~from “The Footpath to Peace” by Henry van Dyke The guiding charm of these words, and the accompanying bucolic image of a peaceful village, have played through our imaginations for the last several years. The quote and picture were discovered at a time when a deep dive into the essences of education, something to which we have dedicated the majority of our adult lives, had brought us up to surface upon a new shore, the world suddenly teeming with meaning and rife with sense and appeal. And so we realized that we had to decide, and we decided to take up the invitation to be glad of life. For us, this deliberate gladness has manifested in the leaving off of more conventional modes of operation (read: we do many things the old-fashioned way on purpose), leading us to homeschool and take up music more fervently, for example. As a matter of course, our faith and the liturgical calendar primarily sets our schedule, not contradicting but complimenting the natural ebb and flow of the seasons which, fortunately for us, also inform how we spend our time and our days now that - Deo gratias, not a day goes by that we are not thankful to have been led to this haven - we are scraping things together as a family on a small farm. Our life is simple, even if there is never enough time in the day to 'get it all done'. We've happily adopted the idea that good enough is perfect in many endeavors - though not, it must be noted, in prayer or devotion or the sacramental life. In that sense we've happily adopted the idea, or rule, that practice makes perfect, and understand that such a race is not won this side of heaven. At the moment, we are preparing beds for the vegetable garden with great and sometimes impatient anticipation, all the while watching the fruit trees drop their flowery petals, budding green leaves to lusher growth, and putting out soon little fruit for future days of plenty (it is our hope). It is a healthy time, even during the sparing time of Lent - not despite but very possibly because of, we are learning - when we sacrifice properly enjoyable food and drink and comforts (and hurt for it), coming to realize and enjoy more keenly the providence of God. Now, music has not abated but has filled more of our moments, as have the schemes and dreams of days to come. For bird's song and blue skies and the playful breeze you would think that anxiety were banished. In the most meaningful way, this is true and - though we know there is a storm on the horizon - today life is full of love and work and play and the chance to look at the stars, perchance to wonder on the One whose music makes them move. May the Immaculate Heart of Mary accept our small offerings and help to purify our wills, for her triumph and for the glory of Christ the King her Son and Our Savior; may He reign! “The Footpath to Peace” by Henry van Dyke (1852-1933) To be glad of life, because it gives you the chance to love and to work and to play and to look up at the stars; to be satisfied with your possessions but not content with yourself until you have made the best of them; to despise nothing in the world except falsehood and meanness, and to fear nothing except cowardice; to be governed by your admirations rather than by your disgusts; to covet nothing of your neighbor's except his kindness of heart and gentleness of manners; to think seldom of your enemies, often of your friends and everyday of Christ; and to spend as much time as you can with body and with spirit in God's out-of-doors; ~ these are little guideposts on the footpath to peace.
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 Servite Domino in timore, et exultate ei cum tremore: apprehendite discipulinam, ne pereatis de via justa. Serve ye the Lord with fear, and rejoice unto Him with trembling: embrace discipline, lest you perish from the just way. (Ps. 2: 11, 12)
Our landscape is early-springing, green things budding forth on the ends of branches just a week away bare, and little flowers taking over the fields, while birds and bees fill the air with their flight and song. Indoors in our makeshift nursery, vegetables and herbs are taking root and showing their tiny heads, while outdoors the children run in the warm sun. Is the long winter really past? It is in some ways unfair, as the world sings a song carefree, that we have just entered the liturgical season of Lent. Truly, we apply ourselves fervently to prayer and sacrifice, fasting and penance, attempting to strip ourselves of all that is unnecessary and so be prepared to meet with fulfillment later. It is indeed a season of utmost care, of humility and realization of human weakness. All the better to become weak, to diminish in ourselves, even to learn to despise the world - certainly its trappings - for the sake of something much better. And even this early spring betrays the delicate nature, the fleeting gold we will witness, of new things. But the promise and beginning signs of life are a great mercy in this time of committed penitence and prayer. It is a time of "not quite yet," somewhat bitter in the waiting but not joyless, necessary and abundantly fruitful - a reminder of the virtue of good work even if we cannot know the reward, since He always knows better than we do even in our most inspired imaginings. We do not wait idly but put our hearts and hands to good use, cinching up our belts, striving to mend our ways, and looking forward to what may emerge around the bend. Our family is grateful for our quiet haven away from the noise, though we are not unaware of the strife and chaos and turmoil beyond the borders of our peaceful retreat. May Our Lady protect us as, for the glory of Christ the King, we make great effort to find out what really matters. Pray! |
Fatima FarmOn this little homestead our family aspires to work the land and hand on the Catholic Tradition, walking in wonder and learning to live by the fruits of our labor, in honor of Our Lady of Fatima, who guides us to Him. Archives
August 2024
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