From my Bookshelf


… and beyond this there lies in the ocean, turned towards the west and the north, the island of Niatirb which Hecataeus indeed declares to be the same size and shape as Sicily, but it is larger, and though in calling it triangular a man would not miss the mark. It is densely inhabited by men who wear clothes not very different from other barbarians who occupy the north- western parts of Europe though they do not agree with them in language. These islanders, surpassing all the men of whom we know in patience and endurance, use the following customs.

In the middle of winter when fogs and rains most abound they have a great festival which they call Exmas , and for fifty days they prepare for it in the fashion I shall describe. First of all, every citizen is obliged to send to each of his friends and relations a square piece of hard paper stamped with a picture, which in their speech is called an Exmas-card . But the pictures represent birds sitting on branches, or trees with a dark green prickly leaf, or else men in such garments as the Niatirbians believe that their ancestors wore two hundred years ago riding in coaches such as their ancestors used, or houses with snow on their roofs. And the Niatirbians are unwilling to say what these pictures have to do with the festival, guarding (as I suppose) some sacred mystery. And because all men must send these cards the market-place is filled with the crowd of those buying them, so that there is great labour and weariness.
But having bought as many as they suppose to be sufficient, they return to their houses and find there the like cards which others have sent to them. And when they find cards from any to whom they also have sent cards, they throw them away and give thanks to the gods that this labour at least is over for another year. But when they find cards from any to whom they have not sent, then they beat their breasts and wail and utter curses against the sender; and, having sufficiently lamented their misfortune, they put on their boots again and go out into the fog and rain and buy a card for him also. And let this account suffice about Exmas-cards.
They also send gifts to one another, suffering the same things about the gifts as about the cards, or even worse. For every citizen has to guess the value of the gift which every friend will send to him so that he may send one of equal value, whether he can afford it or not. And they buy as gifts for one another such things as no man ever bought for himself. For the sellers, understanding the custom, put forth all kinds of trumpery, and whatever, being useless and ridiculous, sell as an Exmas gift. And though the Niatirbians profess themselves to lack sufficient necessary things, such as metal, leather, wood and paper, yet an incredible quantity of these things is wasted every year, being made into the gifts.
But during these fifty days the oldest, poorest and the most miserable of citizens put on false beards and red robes and walk in the market-place; being disguised (in my opinion) as Cronos. And the sellers of gifts no less than the purchasers become pale and weary, because of the crowds and the fog, so that any man who came into a Niatirbian city at this season would think that some great calamity had fallen on Niatirb. This fifty days of preparation is called in their barbarian speech the Exmas Rush .
But when the day of the festival comes, then most of the citizens, being exhausted with the Rush , lie in bed till noon. But in the evening they eat five times as much supper as on other days and, crowning themselves with crowns of paper, they become intoxicated. And on the day after Exmas they are very grave, being internally disordered by the supper and the drinking and reckoning how much they have spent on gifts and on the wine. For wine is so dear among the Niatirbians that a man must swallow the worth of a talent before he is well intoxicated.
Such, then, are their customs about the Exmas. But the few among the Niatirbians have also a festival, separate and to themselves, called Crissmas , which is on the same day as Exmas. And those who keep Crissmas, doing the opposite to the majority of the Niatirbians, rise early on that day with shining faces and go before sunrise to certain temples where they partake of a sacred feast. And in most of the temples they set out images of a fair woman with a new-born Child on her knees and certain animals and shepherds adoring the Child. (The reason of these images is given in a certain sacred story which I know but do not repeat.)
But I myself conversed with a priest in one of these temples and asked him why they kept Crissmas on the same day as Exmas; for it appeared to me inconvenient. But the priest replied, “It is not lawful, O Stranger, for us to change the date of Crissmas, but would that Zeus would put it into the minds of the Niatirbians to keep Exmas at some other time or not to keep it at all. For Exmas and the Rush distract the minds even of the few from sacred things. And we indeed are glad that men should make merry at Crissmas; but in Exmas there is no merriment left.”
And when I asked him why they endured the Rush, he replied, “It is, O Stranger, a racket, using (as I suppose) the words of some oracle and speaking unintelligibly to me (for a racket is an instrument which the barbarians use in a game called tennis ).
But what Hecataeus says, that Exmas and Crissmas are the same, is not credible. For the first, the pictures which are stamped on the Exmas-cards have nothing to do with the sacred story which the priests tell about Crissmas. And secondly, the most part of the Niatirbians, not believing the religion of the few, nevertheless send the gifts and cards and participate in the Rush and drink, wearing paper caps. But it is not likely that men, even being barbarians, should suffer so many and great things in honour of a god they do not believe in. And now, enough about Niatirb.
C.S. Lewis, God in the Dock,
“Xmas and Christmas: A Lost Chapter from Herodotus”
(1st published in Time and Tide, 1954)

“The homemaker has the ultimate career. All other careers exist for one purpose only – and that is to support the ultimate career. “

— C.S. Lewis

I recently ran across a reference to this essay by G.K. Chesterton on Domesticiy, and simply had to post one of my favorite parts here:

She should have not one trade but twenty hobbies; she, unlike the man, may develop all her second bests. This is what has been really aimed at from the first in what is called the seclusion, or even the oppression, of women. Women were not kept at home in order to keep them narrow; on the contrary, they were kept at home in order to keep them broad. The world outside the home was one mass of narrowness, a maze of cramped paths, a madhouse of monomaniacs. It was only by partly limiting and protecting the woman that she was enabled to play at five or six professions and so come almost as near to God as the child when he plays at a hundred trades. But the woman’s professions, unlike the child’s, were all truly and almost terribly fruitful;

This sentiment rings so true with me! Sure, I enjoyed becoming a specialist and being able to develop a sense of expertise in the field of adult medicine. But now that I’ve been a homemaker for a little while, I’m really coming to realize how beautiful the spectrum of what I can do here is. I can nurture my “twenty hobbies” without feeling the need to become an “expert” or professional in each of them. For instance, I can play the violin for my daughter as she pounds on the piano next to me, and do it well–even play in friends’ weddings, without making it the only thing I do all day every day. I can create complex recipes from my Julia Child cookbook to suprise my husband and broaden my cooking skills without having to enter a competition or write a cookbook. I can advise family and friends in medical issues, checking the latest evidence, without the confines of hanging a shingle. I can paint a landscape inspired by the waves of the ocean or the vast marshes to brighten a corner of our home, and develop my skills as a painter, without setting up shop in a gallery downtown. I can do all of these things without having to compete in the marketplace to become the very best at any of them, and find fulfillment in the way in which I can glorify God in them, without turning them into my vocation! This is a taste of freedom, not the imprisonment modern feminists would call homemaking.

In Edith Schaeffer’s book, The Hidden Art of Homemaking, she touched on this philosophy a bit as well. I read it late last year and it inspired me with the affirmation that I can use even my weakest gifts to create beauty in ways that edify. But lately I think I’m really beginning to look at this new vocation of mine as the canvas upon which I can paint with each of my hobbies and talents in ways that will build up my home and bring glory to God. The bredth of unique challenges faced in my daily calling brings opportunity for growth in so many areas.

Just some quick thoughts…
Now on to develope my handyman skills in fixing my dryer!

I can’t really describe how much I enjoy reading. Maybe that’s why I don’t remember a time I was ever bored. I mean, there is always something to read or something to think about. So today I added the area on the blog where I list what I’m currently reading, with the intention of briefly reviewing them as I go along. I can’t possibly imagine catching up with reviews of all the books I’ve previously read in the past few decades, but over time I’ll post a list of my all-time favorites on here.

Generally I read any number of books at the same time, opening up one or the other depending on what mood I’m in. So perhaps I’m inquisitive one day and want to read ethics or philosophy. Or perhaps I’m on the beach and want to read a novel. (Don’t scoff fiction–you can actually learn things through reading fiction, and there can be redemptive qualities in many narratives, i.e. there is fiction that edifies). Frequently, as my husband can attest, the pile on my bedside table grows until it collapses onto the floor without warning (even in the middle of the night when my pillow bumps it in my sleep, taking my thick eyeglasses with it!) Hopefully I notice the glasses before I trample them in the morning in a sleeply haze.

So a current problem in our home is the fact that we have run out of bookshelves for all of the books! Our daughter has her own little bookshelf which is short where she can reach it, and she just seems to be getting more interested in me reading her books about the alphabet and numbers, so we have it well stocked for her to get to at her leisure. And we have filled the bookshelves in our study to the brim, with the unsightly placement of books in every crevice including lodged sideways and on top of the once neatly arranged line-up. When we moved into this house I arranged all the books topically, so all the medical ones had a place, all the Bible commentaries had another place, all the biographies another. And my husband’s WWII books had their own entire bookcase. In addition to these crowded crevices there are now stacks of books in the corner of the study. I’ve neatened them as best I can so that the titles are visible and accessible, but still. And next to them are the growing stack of hematology and oncology journals that my husband reads. I still stifle a laugh that one journal is simply called “Blood.”
We also have several stacks in our bedroom. I’ll admit sometimes I read in a bubblebath (only once did I drop a library book in –a collection of short stories by Brett Lott that was excellent. Don’t worry I replaced it at the church libary with a new one and they even offered me the now-dried-wrinkled one to keep. ). So anyway, there is a stack by the bathtub as well. Downstairs in the family room I’ve tried to stash books we are currently reading here and there. There isn’t room for a bookshelve in that room so I’ve found some places to line a few titles up between bookends out of reach of the baby and without making the room look cluttered–like on top of the upright piano and at one end of the mantle. In the kitchen the cookbooks (which I also like to simply sit and read at times) are in one of the cabinets, taking up precious space that pots and pans would probably prefer to occupy.

So, needless to say, I’ve got to find more shelves, and recently undertook a hunt for affordable glass-fronted bookcases. I really hate books getting dusty (especially given how how it makes my eyes water and sneezing to occur when I pull them out), so I’ve been poking around antique stores with my eyes open lately.