Monday, September 16, 2013


The Young Ladies Magazine

August – September 2013

 

A Letter from the Editor:

Dear Young Ladies,

I would like to make an appeal to all the young writers out there.

This magazine was started for the purpose of allowing young poets and writers to exhibit their creative art. It was designed for the sole goal of seeing young women become the artists they were called to be. As this magazine is experiencing new changes, I would encourage you young women reading this issue, to not inhibit the talents that have doubtless been bestowed upon you.

Let us, as a unified body of creative minds, not shy away from the opportunities that are brought before us. There is no end to the good that your pens may do Ladies!  Perhaps even in the simple use of this periodical, the great minds of tomorrow may find the first breath of inspiration.

Therefore, do not lose heart my young friends in whatever you are doing! Persevere in the talents that God has given you, and use this time of your life to better them.

In this I leave you dear readers,

Yours Truly,

Ms. Lindsay D. Miles

Chapter One: Stories from Our Readers

Chapter Two: Wisdom from Our Mothers

Chapter Three: Collection of Poems

Chapter Four: Delicious Dishes

Chapter Five: Potpourri of Thoughts

 Chapter One: Stories from Our Readers

 

Notes in Blue

By Sabrina Thames

The journal of a young girl

August 8th, 1990 - Thursday

 

Dear Journal,

I just need to tell you the most wonderful things that have happened to me! Oh- there is so much to tell that I will have to limit things just a smidge.

Now, God, as you know, has really been helping me of late to be more selfless and to be a better friend. But I wasn’t doing so well on either of those things at all. I never really talked to God about it either, or truly repented and looked through my soul as I should have. Anyway, it all started the Sunday that my Uncle Joe came to visit my family here in Dusty Springs, Idaho. The Sunday he came was a sweltering 90 degrees, and we went to church feeling sticky with the sweat pouring down our faces. All I could think of during the sermon was how miserably hot I was, and how much I wanted to jump into our pool in the backyard!  I was so absorbed in myself and my discomfort that I never even visited with Uncle Joe or any of my friends after the service. Most of them I hadn’t seen in quite a while, and even though they were eager to talk to me, I was only eager to go home. I was so selfish and isolated from everyone that when my older brother Mark asked me why I was so rude at church that day I just ran to my room and cried. I had my own little pity-party on the coverlet of my bed, and hid from the glares of my brothers and sisters. Tears, Selfishness, and Self- Justification were invited to my party of course, but there certainly was no Joy or Humility.

Needless to say I got a good oral spanking from my brother when he found me- and I don’t need to tell you what he told me, but I can assure you I was all awakened and inwardly raw by the time it was over. I fled to the big red barn beside our farmhouse and found my secret spot close by it. Just behind the barn is a large water barrel close to the edge of the forest by our acreage. There is an old piece of wood sitting on top of the barrel that had been my hideaway throne since I was a child.  I climbed up onto the barrel and seated myself on the splintering wood.

Now- sitting from that height and angle gives you a sweet view of the side on the forest. If you look up you can see the last rays of the setting sun being draped like a golden mist over the trees and bushes around. A few gaps in the tree branches exposed the rich blue sky, and the birds twittered in the warm, summer-sweet breezes that wafted around me.

I felt an overwhelming desire to talk to God in that peaceful place. Just the incredible awe of the golden world around me made me feel like God’s presence was so near to me there. And it was a sweet but burning sensation as the sun’s rays slept on my face, almost like the gaze of God.

So I poured out my heart to God right then and there. All of my soul was put before Him, and I asked Him for mercy and a fresh start. I repented and asked God to cleanse me of my selfishness. Everything was placed on His lap and whispered in His ear during the last few moments of that dreadful day. And once the tinted face of the sunset had split the fading blue of the evening sky, I became at peace. I just know that God washed me out through and through, and I am going to work so hard now to not be such a rude and selfish girl. The next time I am tempted to allow my selfishness to penetrate my heart, I am going to trust God to keep the tower strong, and to strengthen the bond I made today behind the barn. And do you know I really feel like I am ready for any battle with God beside me!

I have to go now~

                                                      You’re Friend,

                                                                Ellie Christiansen

                                                                   

Chapter 2: Wisdom from our Mothers

Trusting God

           Written by Mrs. Rhonda Miles

~^~

Hello Young Ladies! I am so glad for the privilege of speaking with you all.  I was recently reminiscing with my daughter, Lindsay, on some decisions I made when I was her age. I was reflecting on a particularly difficult decision I had to make. My Choice was whether to follow my convictions or to choose the easier, more common path. You see, I had a conviction to not date but instead to allow the Lord to move on my behalf in a courtship situation. This would stop the date and break up cycle that I had already experienced in my past.

Well, one day my room-mate told me that a young man who I had been very interested in had asked her if I would go out with him. He was not in our church and didn’t know me well enough to know my convictions in this area.  She told him that I didn’t date and left it at that. I was desperately struggling with the urge to tell her to tell him some ways to get around my conviction or at least tell him I was interested in him. I began sorting through several thoughts during this struggle. The first was the fact that I wouldn’t have been interested in him if he had not respected my conviction to not date and had tried to get around it. The second was that if I had this conviction and threw it out at the first obstacle or temptation, what good was it? It reminds me of a line from Jane Eyre where Jane says, “Laws and principles are not for the times when there is no temptation; they are for such moments as this, when body and soul rise in mutiny against their rigor; stringent are they; inviolate they shall be. If at my individual convenience I might break them, what would be their worth?” 

I realized that this was a chance for me to trust the Lord for my future. He, I believe, had put this conviction on my heart; was I now going to throw it out because of my fear?  As I sat in my room struggling with this I happened to look on my wall and see a print I had.

 

I really looked at this picture for the first time putting myself on the swing. Here was this girl swinging with joy and abandon while the Lord was holding the ropes with his fingers. Was I able to do that in this case? Could I trust in Him to provide me with the husband I needed without my interference? Did I really believe He would?

        I did wait. The young man honored my convictions and never tried to pursue anything with me. Two years later I married the love of my life. We have been married for 21 blessed years and have never stopped serving the Lord together. Even though I wanted to take matters into my own hands, the Lord reminded me to trust Him. Trust Him not just timidly, shyly hoping for some good result; but to trust Him with abandon.

        Through the years of walking with Him, the Lord has given me many more opportunities to put my trust in Him. Though the choices have never been easy, when I chose to trust Him entirely, He never left me disappointed.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight.” Proverbs 3:5-6

 

~^~

 “The King’s Daughter”

(From the book “The King’s Daughter”)

-Author unknown

 

“I wish I were a princess!” Emma stood with the dust brush in her hand, pausing on her way upstairs to her own pretty little white room, which she was required to put in order every day.

 “Why, my child?” asked her mother. “Because then I would never have to sweep and dust and make beds, but would have plenty of servants to do these things for me.”

“That is a very foolish wish, my daughter, but even if you were a princess, I think you would find it best to learn how to do these things, so that you could do them in case of necessity.”

 

“But it is never necessary for princesses to work.”

“There my little girl proves her ignorance. If she will come to me after her work is done, I will show her a picture.”

The little bedroom was at length put to rights, and Emma came to her mother, reminding her of her promise about the picture.

“What do you see, my child?” her as she laid the picture before her d

Daughter.

“I see a young girl with her dress fastened up, an apron on, and a broom in her hand.”

“Can you tell me what kind of place she is in?”

“I do not know. There are walls and arches of stone, and a bare stone floor. I don’t think it can be a pleasant place.”

“No, it is not. It is a prison, and the young girl is a king’s daughter.”

      “A king’s daughter!”

      “Yes; and her story is a very sad one.”

      “Please tell me about her.”

“Many years ago the king of France was Louis XVI., and his wife was Marie Antoinette. They were not a wicked king and queen, but they were thoughtless and fond of pleasure.

      “They forgot that it was their duty to look after the good of their people; so they spent money extravagantly in their own pleasures, while the whole nation was suffering.

      “The people became dissatisfied; and when, finally, Louis and Marie Antoinette saw the mistake they had been making, and tried to change their conduct, it was too late.

     “The people, urged on by their leaders, learned to hate the king and queen. They were taken, with their two children, and shut up in a prison called the Temple.

     “There were dreadful times in France then, and everyone who was suspected of being friendly to the king and queen was sent to prison and to the guillotine. The prisoners in the Temple passed the time as best they could.

     “The king gave lessons to his son and daughter every day, or read aloud to them all, while Marie Antoinette, Madame Elizabeth, and the young Marie Therese sewed.

     “After awhile the angry people took away the king and beheaded him. And shortly after the little son was separated from his mother, sister, and aunt, and shut up by himself in the charge of a cruel jailor.

     “Next it was Marie Antoinette’s turn to ascend the scaffold, which she did October 16, 1793. Her daughter, Marie Therese, was then left alone with her aunt, the Madame Elizabeth.

     “But it was not long she was allowed this companionship. Madame Elizabeth was taken away and beheaded, and then the poor young girl of sixteen was left entirely by herself in a dismal prison, guarded and waited on by brutal soldiers.

      “For a year and a half she lived thus, leading the most wretched existence, and not knowing whether her mother and aunt were alive or dead. Years afterward when she was free, when wrote about her life in prison. In that we read: ---- “I only asked for the simple necessities of life, and these they often harshly refused me. I was, however, enabled to keep myself clean. I had at least soap and water, and I wept out my room every day.”

     “So here in the picture you see a king’s daughter, and the granddaughter of an empress (Marie Theresa of Austria, one of the most remarkable women in history), after having carefully made her toilet, sweeping the bare stone floor of her cell.

      “Which do you think caused her the most satisfaction in those dark days of trial: the remembrance that she was the daughter of a king? Or the knowledge of domestic duties, which she had probable learned while she was a happy, envied princess, living in a palace and surrounded by a great many servants!”

      “Is that a true story?”

      “Yes, Emma, every word of it; and there is much, much more of it that I cannot tell you now.”

      “What became of her at last?”

      “She was finally released from prison, and sent to Austria to her mother’s friends; but it was a full year after she reached Vienna before she smiled; and though she lived to be seventy years old, she never forgot the terrible sufferings of her prison life.

      “But, my child, what I wish to teach you is, hat though it is sometimes very pleasant to be a princess, it may be most unfortunate at other times. But always remember, my dear girl that knowledge of housekeeping never comes amiss, and every young woman, no matter what the circumstances are, will be far happier and more useful for possessing that knowledge.”

      Children do not always comprehend everything at once; so I will not say that Emma soon learned to take delight in dusting and sweeping. But bear in mind that that woman is the most queenly, who uses her wisdom and her strength for the benefit of those around her, shrinking from no duty that she should perform, but doing it cheerfully and well.

 

 

 

“A Valuable Secret”

 

“Sarah, I wish you would lend me your thimble. I can never find mine when I want it.”

    “Why cannot you find it, Mary?”

    “If you do not choose to lend me yours, I can borrow of somebody else.”

    “I am willing to lend it to you, Mary. Here it is.”

    “I knew you would let me have it.”

    “Why do you always come to me to borrow when you have lost anything, Mary?”

    “Because you never lose your things, and always know where to find them.”

    “How do you suppose I always know where to find my things?”

    “I am sure I cannot tell. If I knew, I might, perhaps, sometimes contrive to find my own.”

    “This is the secret. I have a place for everything, and after I have done using anything, it is my rule to put it away in its proper place.”

    “Yes, just as though your life depended on it.”

    “My life does not depend upon it Mary, but my convenience does very much.”

    “Well, I never can find time to put my things away.”

    “How much more time will it take to put a thing away in its proper place, than it will be to hunt after it, when it is lost?”

    “Well, I’ll never borrow of you again, you may depend on it.”

    “Why? You are not offended, Mary, I hope!”

    “Oh no, Sarah. But I am ashamed that I have been so careless and disorderly, and now resolve to do as you do, to have a place for everything, and everything in its place.”

    “Well, Mary, this is a good resolution and will be easily carried out, if you bear in mind that, ‘Heaven’s first law is order.’”

 

True worth is in being, not seeming -----

In doing each day that goes by

Some little good ---- not in dreaming

Of great things to do by-and-by.

We cannot make bargains for blisses,

Nor catch them, like fishes, in nets;

And sometimes the thing our life misses

Helps more than the good that it gets.

 

Chapter Three: Collection of Poetry

 

“On the Wharph at Midnight”

 

‘In sullen mists the twilight lays

Its arms portending towards the night.

Against the moonlit coal-black skies,

A single star shines in its flight.

No bird-song rings within the air,

No glittering streak of light beams forth.

In silence reigns the western star,

And gentle waves crash on the warph.

The silver stars like sentinels stay

Above the tipped and somber moon-

Aroused, the water dwellers play,

Their fringed white capes are dipped in foam.

Beneath the rugged cliffs that guard-

The azure depths that lay abreast,

An echoed murmuring is heard-

A somber song from the water’s nest-

And here I stand, my face greets oe’re

The aching of the mermaid’s tide-

A mourning wail wafts nigh the shore

The knell of love my heart must hide.

Oh! - Ache ye must sweet ebony sea,

For love, like foam may vanish soon.

And here in black-round ribbon aye,

My head bears mark the bud of boon.

Aye, had he not have crossed the sea

To quell the war-song far that rung-

‘Twould still beside me with love-song be,

And not on foreign sod, dead, flung.

Oh- torrent! Break, and break, my heart!

Must in its somber chamber lie-

As dead as night that bears the start

Of Lover’s knots and boons- they die.

But love, tis pungent-sweet the memory!

But bitter, hollow in Phillip’s grave.

The love-warm blush I bore while courting,

Twas buried by some Syrian knave.

Thus stand I here, my fate to wander-

The hope that when I dead may lie,

My Phillip’s soul may, sweet surround me,

That forever in his smile I’ll bide.

The warph song rings within my hearing,

Somber, sweet, and cold, I trow;

The sea-tide splashes hard and biting,

Sprays of water cool my brow.

A wailing midnight sea-bird singer,

Mourns a weary, ringing tune,

The sea-spray hums, and on the heather

Sleeps a lone and shivering Loon.

The moon in garments white by ages,

High above the sea shines oft.

The hours fly in their patterned stages,

The wharph’s sea breezes rustle soft.

Cold the winds that brush the rock cliff-

Chill the crashing waters play.

And stand I here now ever, and ever,

Too soon the night will greet the day.

 

~ Lindsay Miles

 

Excerpts from

“The Bridal of Triermain”

Come, Lucy! While ‘tis morning hour,

The woodland brook we needs must pass:

So, ere the sun assume his power,

We shelter in our polar bower,

Where the dew lies long upon the flower,

Though vanished from the velvet grass.

Curbing the stream, the stony ridge

May serve us for a sylvan bridge;

For here compelled to disunite,

Round petty isles the runnels glide,

And chafing off their puny spite,

The shallow murmurs waste their might,

Yielding to footstep free and light

A dry-shod pass from side to side.

Nay, why this hesitating pause?

And, Lucy, as thy step withdraws,

Why sidelong eye the streamlet’s brim?

Titania’s foot without a slip,

Like thine, though timid, light, and slim,

From stone to stone might safely trip,

Nor risk the glow-worm clasp to dip

That binds her slipper’s silken rim.

Or trust thy lover’s strength: nor fear

That this same stalwart arm of mine,

Which could you oak’s prone trunk uprear,

Shall shrink beneath the burden dear

Of form so slender, light, and fine-

So, -- now, the danger dared at last,

Look back, and smile at perils past.

And now we reach the favorite glade,

Paled in by copse wood, cliff, and stone,

Where never harsher sounds invade,

To break affection’s whispering tone,

That deep breeze that wave the shade,

Than the small brooklets’ feeble moan.

How Lucy of the lofty eye,

Noble in birth, in fortunes high,

She for whom lords and barons sigh,

Mets her poor Arthur in the dale.

My sword- tis master must be dumb;

But, when a soldier names my name,

Approach, my Lucy! Fearless come,

Nor dread to hear of Arthur’s shame.

My heart—mid all you courtly crew,

Of lordly rank and lofty line,

Is there to love and honor true,

That boasts a pulse so warm as mine?

They praised thy diamond’s luster rare---

Matched with thine eyes, I thought it faded;

They praised the pearls that bound thy hair---

I only saw the locks they braided;

They talk of wealthy dower and land,

And titles of high birth the token---

I thought of Lucy’s heart and hand,

Nor knew the sense of what was spoken.

And yet, if ranked in Fortune’s roll,

I might have learned their choice unwise,

Who rate the dower above the soul --

And Lucy’s diamonds o’re her eyes.

How many better born are slaves

To such sweet joys as these, ---

Dead to the nobler scene that glows

When Nature’s grander scenes unclose!

But, Lucy, we will love them yet,

The mountain’s misty coronet,

The greenwood, and the world;

Nor love them less, that o’re the hill

The summer breeze, as now, comes chill; ---

My love shall wrap her warm,

And, fearless of the slippery way,

While safe she trips the healthy brae,

Shall hang on Arthur’s arm.

 

--- Sir Walter Scott

 

Chapter Four: Delicious Dishes

Moist Meat Loaves         Yield: 4 loaves (6 servings each

8 eggs lightly beaten                                      2-2/3 cups milk

6 cups (24 oz.) shredded cheddar cheese      12 slices white bread, cubed

2 large onions, finely chopped                        2 cups shredded carrots

7- ½ teaspoons salt                                         1 teaspoon pepper

                        8 pounds lean ground beef (90% lean)

Additional Ingredients for each meat loaf

¼ cup packed brown sugar                         ¼ cup ketchup

                            1 tablespoon prepared mustard

 

Step 1: In two very large bowls, combine the eggs, milk, cheese, bread, onions, carrots, salt and pepper. Crumble beef over mixture and mix well. Pat into four ungreased 9 in. x 5 in. loaf pans.

Step 2: Cover and freeze three meat loaves for up to 3 months. Bake the remaining loaf, uncovered, at 350 degrees for 1 hour. Combine the brown sugar, ketchup and mustard; spread over loaf. Bake 15-20 minutes longer or until no pink remains and a meat thermometer reads 160 degrees.

 

TO USE FROZEN MEAT LOAF: Thaw in the refrigerator overnight. Remove from the refrigerator 30 minutes before baking. Bake, uncovered, at 350 degrees for 1 hour. Combine the brown sugar, ketchup and mustard; spread over loaf. Bake 30-35 minutes longer or until no pink remains and a meat thermometer reads 160 degrees.

 

Chapter Five: Potpourri of Thoughts

 

A Letter from Lady Jane Grey

One of the most famous martyrs of the faith, Lady Jane Grey, wrote this inspiring letter to her sister Katherine.

“I have sent you, my dear sister Katherine, a book. On the outside, it is not trimmed with gold, but inside it is worth more than precious jewels. It is the book, dear beloved sister, of the law of the Lord. It is His testament and last will, which He left to us poor sinners, and it will lead you to the path of eternal joy. If you read it with a good mind and follow it with an earnest desire, it will bring you to an immortal and everlasting life. It will teach you how to live and how to die. It will give you more than you would have gained by the possession of your poor father’s lands. In the same way, if you study diligently this book, using it as a guide for your life, you will inherit great riches that the covetous will never take from you, the thief will never steal, and the moth will ever destroy.

     Desire, sister, to understand the law of the Lord your God. Live to die, that by death you may enter into eternal life, and then enjoy the life that Christ has gained for you by His death. Don’t think that just because you are now young your life will be long, because young and old die as God wills. Strive, then, always to learn how to  die. Defy the world, deny the devil, despise the flesh, and delight yourself only in the lord. Repent of your sins, and yet don’t despair. Be strong in faith, with humility. With St. Paul, desire to die and to be with Christ, with whom, even in death, there is life.

    Rejoice in Christ, as I trust you do. Since you call yourself a Christian, follow as closely as you can in the steps of your master, Christ Jesus, and take up your cross. Lay your sins on His back, and always hold Him near.

    As for my death, rejoice as I do, my dear sister, and consider that I shall be delivered of this corruption and put on incorruption, for I am sure that I will, for losing a mortal life, gain a life that is immortal life. I pray that God will grant you this life in His time and will give you His grace to live in the fear of Him and to die in the Christian faith. In God’s name, I exhort you never to swerve, through hope of life or fear of death, from this faith. If you deny His truth to lengthen your life, God will deny you and shorten your days. If you hold faithful to Him, He will prolong your days to your comfort and His glory, to which He is bringing me now and will bring you later, when He is pleased to call you. Farewell again, my beloved sister. Put your trust only in God, who only must help you. Amen.

                                         Your loving sister,
Jane Dudley

No comments:

Post a Comment