“Sit still, my daughter, until thou know how the matter will fall…” Ruth 3: 18
A sweet word for waiting hearts…
Sit still, my daughter! Just sit calmly still!
Nor deem these days—these waiting days—as ill.
The One Who loves thee best, Who plans thy way,
Hath not forgotten thy great need today.
And if He waits, ‘tis sure He waits to prove
To thee, His tender child, His heart’s deep love.
Sit still my daughter! Just sit calmly still!
Thou longest much to know thy dear Lord’s will!
While anxious thoughts would almost steal their way
Corrodingly within, because of His delay—
Persuade thyself in simple faith to rest
That He Who knows and loves will do the best.
Sit still my daughter! Just sit calmly still!
Nor move one step, not even one, until
His way hath opened—Then, ah then, how sweet!
How glad thy heart, and then how swift thy feet
Thy inner beauty being then, oh then, how strong!
And waiting days not counted then too long.
Sit still my daughter! Just sit calmly still!
What higher service couldst thou for Him fill?
Tis hard! Oh yes! But choicest things must cost!
For lack of losing all how much is lost!
Tis hard, tis true! But then—He giveth grace
To count the hardest spot the sweetest place.
J. Danson Smith
I have never had to say goodbye to a house, never had to watch a house I loved pass into the hands of others. And that is why the sale of Hamrick Hall has been a peculiarly painful idea for me. Having my sister’s wedding in my grandparent’s house this winter has culminated a lifetime of fond memories and associations. From my earliest recollection it has held a fascination for me. How I used to love to sit up in Grandma’s bedroom on great-great-great Aunt Olive’s settee and hear stories about my ancestors. She would show me pictures of Piety Green, the plucky young woman who married her father-in-law when her husband and his wife died so that she could stay on at the plantation. She would bring out the fragile lace sleeve of my great-great grandmother’s wedding gown and would speak of her so lovingly that I felt honored to be named after her. We pored over old pictures and I took notes in a little composition book, and I think that my interest satisfied a need in both of us. Mine a hunger to live the past, if only for an hour or two, and hers to entrust treasured family relics into the heart of the younger generation. That house always meant history to me, my history, part of where I came from. Dismantling it for the sale has been like desecrating a shrine.
My friend Lauren has a new motto painted over her kitchen sink: Otium Sanctum. It was the first thing that I noticed when we were visiting in their home a couple of weeks ago. I asked about it, and her husband explained that it was an ancient Latin phrase that the church fathers used to describe an attitude of heart and body which promoted an awareness of the presence of God in all of the issues of daily life. Literally, ‘Holy Leisure’, the ability to walk in the duties allotted to us with an inward restfulness and a reverent spirit. It describes a state where nothing is undertaken without the thought of God, where worship and communion with Him can happen at any time and in any place. What a marvelous reminder to the woman faced with an overwhelming potential of tasks for the day! This is where simplicity begins. Hurry and strife cannot survive in such an atmosphere of calm, just as true spirituality cannot thrive in a whirl of frantic activity. In the garden, at a desk, standing at the kitchen sink…we can enjoy the love of God and savor the rest that He gives when we are quiet enough to receive it.
Lucilla Eliot, of Elizabeth Goudge’s ‘Eliot trilogy’ (Bird in the Tree, Pilgrim’s Inn and Heart of the Family) is one of my heroines. Expect to hear much of her—and the wisdom that Ms. Goudge imparts through her voice—in this journal. Elizabeth Goudge’s writings have played a very formative role in my thoughts on homemaking and womanhood, but most especially the books that deal with this remarkable matriarch and the profound impact of her faithfulness upon her children and grandchildren. Lucilla’s vision for a consecrated home, where godliness, beauty and love all unite to safeguard the hearts of the young ones in its care, has appealed to every domestic desire that I cherish. I, too, long to fashion a culture of beauty and grace within my home to the eternal benefit of my family.
