Moving along!

You'll now find me at

http://lehameaudelareine.blogspot.com/

EDIT: Please don't mention Mark over there. The fact that I'm posting this bog to my Facebook as well means he'll see it!

Learning How to Love

I consoled myself by saying there was no way I couldn't fall for him upon meeting him.

Tall, lean, with large, elegantly boned hands and a well-groomed mustache, he was completely opposite my small, round, long haired and beskirted self. A well-fitting brown jacket and trousers, a black linen vest and a white shirt, rounded off with a burgundy bow tie of all things, and topped off with a silver pocketwatch chain, black hat, and briefcase, made him look so very much older than 22. And as I sat opposite him at our little table in the University Center, I was struck by one thing; he looked, he spoke, he acted like a man.

And he proved himself to be one. He didn't only stand up when a lady left the table or eat his lunch fastidiously, he also revealed himself to possess a profound, deep, adult faith in God, one most people don't achieve their entire lives.

To me, he was perfect. And utterly deserving of love.

I spent a couple of weeks completely starry-eyed. He couldn't do or say anything wrong in my view. The three days a week that my best friend, through whom I met him, and I would have lunch with him at school became the highlights of my week. I began attending the Latin Mass community where he and his family attend. Actually, I really could take up volumes on the things God has taught me in the last few weeks that I never would have learned had I not met Mark and began attending Saint Michael's...but we'll focus on the most important one, because it relates to the Greatest Commandment.

How to love, both God and those around me.

As time went by I began to notice that this sterling young man did indeed have his tarnish. After all, we are all sinners. Not one of us is perfect but Christ, no matter how we may feel about a person. I'd never go on a litany of his faults, but this young man does possess a few, and while they may endear him to me, they irritate our mutual friend to no end.

My good friend Mark is indeed deserving of love, as are all God's creations. But he is not perfect. And as much love as Mark is deserving of, Christ is even more deserving of my love.

If I can fling myself with abandon into caring for Mark, who is flawed, if I can feasibly consider the idea of following an imperfect man to the ends of the earth...then how shall I feel about Christ? Should I not fling myself into love for Christ with even more enthusiasm? And since I already know where He leads me, to salvation and rest, through green pastures and beside still waters, why should I be unwilling to follow Him to the ends of the earth?

We seldom think of love for God in terms of the way we're taught to think of romantic love. There have been days where, right at lunch, when the campus is abuzz with people walking to and fro, I've wanted to hop on top of the clocktower and yell out how amazing I think Mark is. Why should I be any less willing to do that for God? Or at the very least, in situations that would require me to speak up about my faith, or to show it by example, why should I shy away?

If I place Christ at the center of my love then the way I look at Mark, for the time being at least, must also change. This dear young man may seem utterly perfect in my eyes...but it may not be God's will that he and I should be more than dear friends. I don't know what God has planned for me. My poor human heart has a hard enough time figuring out what He wants of me right this moment!

But I love Mark. As hard as I have tried to remain Miss Elinor Dashwood about this whole thing I can't help but feeling an ache worthy of Marianne whenever I'm around him. Simple, silly, foolish me! I feel utterly ridiculous that I so love to make him smile, that my breath has caught the few times our hands have touched.

And so I have had to learn how to love. I have had to learn how to love my Lord with all the enthusiasm I can muster, and to never place a mere fellow human above Him in my heart. (And actually? When I'm regularly attending Mass, praying throughout the day, and reading and studying deep, weighty theology...that hasn't been difficult. God, after all, asks nothing of us that He doesn't also give us the means to achieve.)

And I've had to learn how to love Mark, that dear, dear young man, as my brother in Christ.

And I will confess, my friends, that has been hard.

Coming Monday

Another post on Natural Beauty...namely, how to even your skin tone with a homemade powder! The cheapest foundation powders are chock full of chemicals and the natural ones run as much as $65 a pop...But I'll show you how to make your own facial powder for dimes, for a variety of skin tones!

Hmm

I'm considering either revamping this blog or moving to a new one. I feel like a fresh start would really get me back into blogging again.

Me? Sing in a Choir?

Possibly in the near future! The Latin Mass community I recently started attending is in desperate need of female altos...and fortunately, I just happen to be one!

Asking for Strength

School, persistent sinus headaches, and financial woes are upon my household. Please pray for us!

Pining?

I've been getting a lot of relationship advice lately.

Some of it, like the advice on Mr. Doug Phillip's "How to Evaluate a Suitor" CD, has been life-changing.

Some of it has been just plain bad.

Some people have even cornered me in public and admonished me like a five year old that some of my behavior is not appropriate. I've been accused "chasing" a guy.

This was utterly shocking to me, as I'm not the type to chase at all. I've always been the type to wait for the young man to make the first move. Such was the case with the young man I've mentioned in the past, who I've been good friends with for almost a year before the idea of pursuing something more even entered my head.

As I said, I've been friends with this young man a while. As such I'm comfortable being myself around him. I'm comfortable texting my friends. I'm comfortable messaging them on Facebook. I'm also quite comfortable baking them the odd pie or pound cake when they've had a bad day. (Just ask my former roommate.) Apparently this behavior is "chasing" a guy, even when we've been friends for a while.

I would think completely changing the way I interact with someone the moment they become a romantic interest would be more chasing, but oh well.

To be fair, I haven't actually been out on any kind of date or had any serious conversations on relationship or other matters with this young man outside of as just friends. He's heavily involved with his church, working two jobs to pay for school, and school itself, which just started this past week, and we as such haven't really "gone anywhere."

And just to make things a little more complex? This Monday my best friend introduced me to an old friend of hers, who is equally as mature, if not moreso, than the first young man, equally as intelligent, and equally as "removed from the world." Unlike the first young man, who we'll call George, this second young man, who we'll call Mark, is deeply Catholic, which is the faith in which I have grown up and with which I am most familiar.

For all of ten minutes, I was in a terrible tizzy.

And then I realized that my life is most fortunately NOT a Jane Austen novel. Because as much as I love them, I wouldn't really want to live in one. I don't need to lock myself in my room and weep, nor do I need to spin a web of drama as apposed to a support group.

I've been given a very rare opportunity here. An opportunity to put my head above my heart. An opportunity for discernment and prayer, a chance to grow closer to God. And a chance to NOT fall head over heels into an attachment without considering all aspects of the situation.

After all, why do I really need to be caught up in young men, chasing them or otherwise? I have the love of a vast extended family, and most of all of my God and his Son.

So who's pining?

Crazy Day!

My first day back at classes today. Will post tomorrow a recipe for a nice homemade gift.

Natural Beauty Monday - The Dauphine on Teenage Skin Woes

Disclaimer: I am no scientist, nor am I a dermatologist. I have tried to do my research well using reputable sources, but I may get some things wrong. Do let me know if I have so I can change it.

When that controversial Queen Marie Antoinette arrived in France, she was just a young teenager, as was her new husband. Together they were Dauphin and Dauphine, or, simply the Crown Prince of France and his wife, the future Queen Consort.

Now, young Louis was not known to be a handsome fellow. He was rather on the large side, awkward in social graces, and his young skin was covered in that plague of adolescence; acne. And so the porcelain-skinned Marie had this advice for her new husband, which may sound strange to us, and utterly simple;

Wash your face with lavender water several times a day, and drink lots of donkey's milk.

That's it! And according to sources, it worked!

So why did this utterly simple formula work so well?

Lavender has many, many amazing qualities. The scent is soothing and calming, of course, but beyond that even! It can be just as calming to a rash or to red skin as it is to a flurried mind, a good quality in an anti-acne remedy. The essential oil has been shown to have antibacterial and antiseptic qualities, and since acne is caused in part by bacteria, it delivers a double punch.

Another good quality of lavender water that I've found is it works very well for evening out skin that is dry in some places and oily in others. When the skin is naturally moisturized, and spritzing skin with even just plain water can help with that, it secrets less sebum (oil) to counteract dry spots, thus resulting in less oily skin. Amazing, isn't it?

Lavender water is extremely easy to make on your own, even from the bare bones of the recipe. If you have a good nursery nearby, you can go out and find your own little plant and set it up for a season. Once it blooms, you'll have your own little lavender crop! You can grow from seed as well; it's much cheaper, but you'll have to wait a little longer, as lavender does not flower in its first year. NOTE: If you plan on using lavender for cosmetic purposes, make certain you never use pesticides on it.

If you can't grow your own lavender, it's not difficult to find online from bulk herb suppliers, or even locally at specialty and culinary shops. (It's great in recipes too, whether sweet or savory!) You can still provide your own water for the recipe, after all!

All you need is two our three handfuls of fresh (one one handful of dried) lavender blossoms and four cups of water. Tie the lavender up in a piece of cheesecloth to save having to strain it later and boil your water. Toss in your lavender, cover, and let it simmer about five minutes. Remove it from the heat and let it steep. I usually start in the morning and that evening the steeping is done. Pull out the cheesecloth bundle, bottle the liquid, et voila! Lavender water! You can add a tablespoon or so of vodka as a preservative, if you like. It's also simple to make lavender water with essential oil; just add thirty drops, give or take a few for preference, to four cups of water.

You can put some on a cottonball and wipe your face with it twice a day, or you can do what I like to do, which is to find a small spray bottle and mist my face with it after I shower.

Another thing I liked to do, back when I was younger and my skin was more troublesome, was to add a few drops of lavender oil to a bottle of witch hazel. Witch hazel is a wonderful astringent for very stubborn skin, just make sure to moisturize dry spots after using it.

Now what's this about donkey's milk?

Donkey's milk is not exactly popular in the modern world, and as such there has really been little research on it, but a few things are certain. The most notable is that it is very low in casein, the primary protein found in cow's milk, and very high in lysozomes, which are enzymes known to consume biological debris such as the natural hormones present in milk from a pregnant animal. It also contains high levels of many of the vitamins you would find today in "Hair, skin and nail" supplements.

Because of its chemical makeup, primarily the presence of both natural and unnatural hormones, cow's milk has come under fire as a cause of acne. Cow's milk can also cause an increase in blood glucose, which in turn can increase insulin, which, by chain reaction, increases sebum production.

Right now there is little evidence for or against this part of Marie's cure, but it could possibly be that it's not necessarily the donkey's milk that helps acne, it's drinking it instead of cow's milk. Unless you have a female donkey around, you may not really be able to test this. But you can try goat's milk, which also has a radically different protein and amino acid structure from cow's milk. It also is easy on lactose intolerant stomachs, and you may even have a mild cow's milk allergy you didn't know about that is contributing to your breakouts.

Goat's milk can be a little expensive, however, unless you have a goat of your own. And if the idea of keeping either a donkey or a goat around for milk and pet purposes intrigues you, may I direct you to Storey Publishing's excellent line of "Guides to Raising" particularly their title on Miniature Livestock.

If any of you have experiences with either of these tricks, tell us in the comments! We'd love to hear your advice. Also let me know if you have any success with these ideas, or other tips for troubled teenage skin.

Who knows? Perhaps her Majesty knew something scientists, and the beauty industry experts, don't.

Home-Grown Beauty

(No, I'm not talking about the kind we Southern gals naturally have!)

I know this was not my intended next post, but it's been on my mind lately. As a society, women, and, increasingly, men have been convinced that we all simply must run out and spend ourselves into debt over new and "breakthrough" cosmetics. My sister-in-law, who has been staying with us for the week, laments over how much her Proactiv makeup and skincare costs, but feels its her only option for her acne-prone skin.

This is simply not true, like most of the things society tries to convince us of using the TV. A dear friend of my family currently has a rapidly expanding small business creating homemade body scrubs, and her recipes are some of the most simple, honest, and natural I've seen.

I don't know about you, but I feel pampered when I use something simple and natural. And I feel a little victorious when I use something that was at least partially created using something I produced myself. So...Starting this week, and ending when I run out of recipes, each Monday I shall be posting a recipe for a homemade product, for men, women or both, that you can make using at least one ingredient you can produce yourself!

Tomorrow? An infamous queen's teenage beauty secret!

If Life is a Highway, Consider This a Wheel Alignment

If I told you I’d spent the last nine months in a runaway red Mustang, it wouldn’t be completely untrue. After all, that is my best friend’s car, and we were roommates up until very recently.

I've spent 2010 so far living like a typical college student, struggling to make ends meet and sometimes having to make the cruel choice between gas to get to class or groceries for the week. I learned quite a bit about my own resourcefulness, and a lot about how difficult things can be when you feel like you're the only one working to contribute to a home.

For private reasons, my roommate and I moved in with my parents about a month ago. She has since moved out into a one bedroom apartment in the same complex as before, which her mother manages. I for one am happy to be back home for now. It's been nice to be near my parents again, and to have a little extra money to buy books and things. Particularly since The Vision Forum's Baby Conference is now available on audio download. I certainly don't agree with everything Doug Phillips says or stands for, but I cannot deny that he is a wise man, and I always learn a lot from the lectures he and others affiliated with VF present.

I also had my debit card stolen recently, which was quite a lesson in forgiveness, believe me. My first reaction when someone spends $400 that aren't theirs to spend is not a pleasant one, especially if the $400 belongs to my family! But we've been reimbursed, and no long term damage has been done.

And finally, there is a young gentleman in Lydia's life! He's several years older than me, and we met during the Fall Semester last year. We've been quite good friends since then. I really...well, I have never met a young man like him before. He's about the business of man, consumed in his love for God and has a seriousness about him that is completely refreshing. He's also kind-hearted and funny, witty and as interested in the history and culture of the South as I am. We haven't "gone out" yet, as we've both been busy, but...who knows?

Glad to be back, at any rate. Heading to Arkansas this weekend to see my grandmother, aunt, stepbrother and step sister-in-law. While driving there I shall draft my post on my recent adventures in homemade cleaning products! This time, it goes beyond vinegar and baking soda.

Thursday

This Thursday I will be back again! I finally realized I had way too much going on not to journal about it, and after that I thought, well, why not start this up again? So Thursday, a brief summary of the last few months. And after that? Adventures in "green" cleaning!

All is Calm, All is Bright

Tuesday night, my parents and I loaded up and went down to our Civic Center Music Hall to see Mannheim Steamroller.

I've always loved their music, since I was a little girl. It was my Aunt Suzanne who gave Mom the Christmas Live! CD years ago. It quickly became a favorite. Every year, armed with a bag of gingersnaps and packets of apple cider, Mom and I would trim the tree to the rousing sounds of God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen and Angels We Have Heard on High, as well as the sweetness of Carol of the Birds. When they played those songs Tuesday night, I was thrilled. It was a beautiful experience, full of memories. But there was one song in particular that made me cry; even as I'm listening to it now, I have to dab my eyes a little.

It was many years ago that my mother's mother, my Mimi, attended Midnight Mass with her parents. At the parish of St. Boniface in Ft. Smith, the "German Church," as it was called, because it had been built of near-eternal limestone blocks and eternal love by the German immigrant population of the town, it wasn't uncommon to sing most if not all of the songs in German. One that they performed every year was an old, old carol, Stille Nacht.

Even when it wasn't Christmas, my Great Grandpa Bender would sing it as a lullaby to his children, especially his youngest daughter, his "Little Miss." My Mimi.

She in turn would sing it (in English) to her four children when they were young.

My favorite lullaby when I was growing up was Silent Night. Even now I can close my eyes and remember her voice, soft and low, as she sang me to sleep, rubbing my back lovingly.

Two Christmases ago I had the privilege of singing Stille Nacht to my Mimi, in German, as she would've heard it back then. She cried and hugged me close, "It sounds just like when Daddy sang it."

And so, I cried Tuesday night. They were tears of love and joy. In this past year, I've moved into an apartment with a friend of mine. I've completed a year of college. It feels strange to have been on this earth for nearly two decades. It feels strange not to have my mother right down the hall. I held her hand and leaned on her shoulder, and smiled through the tears.

The gingersnaps are homemade now. The cider is mulled. And the Christmas tree looks much more elegant now than it did covered in my kindergarten projects. Things change. They may be for better, they may be for worse, they may just be for the sake of change. But if we don't dive into them with the knowledge that God knows what He's doing throwing them at us, we're only hindering ourselves.

My mother and I are separated by a fifteen minute drive. My Mimi and I are separated by three hours on the highway. My Mimi and her beloved Daddy, who I pray I will someday meet, are separated by decades and distances man cannot measure. But it's alright. We will always have Christmas.

And we will always have Stille Nacht.

This Weekend...

When I have some time to come up for air, I'm going to be posting some pictures, of our kitchen, a few endeavors we've been up to, etc. And in the next week or so, I'll be putting the finishing touches on a post about a "new" genre of music I've recently fallen in love with, that I want to share. It's utterly moving and deeply faithful, and I can't wait to show it off!

The Real "Enemies"

I grew up in rural Oklahoma, and have lived in the state all my life. On things pertaining to our proud history I tend to be a bit of a stickler. I'm not a fan of Steinbeck for reasons of inaccuracy concerning my fair state in his writing, and it tends to set my hair on fire when people misrepresent parts of our history. And anyone with roots in Oklahoma will tell you one of our defining decades was the time between 1929, the crash of the stock market, and 1939, the outbreak of World War II.

It was a time of hardship and resilience, when the next generation of homesteaders, some of them my own ancestors, dealt with dry and overfarmed land that yielded little but dust storms. When the fledgeling government held the state together amidst economic depression, and where armed remnants of an age of outlaws crisscrossed their way through the state on their way to their own brand of fame and fortune.

Oklahoma had then a brand of lawman known for their toughness, Marshalls and Sheriffs unafraid to track down outlaws and bring them to justice, by court or bullet; the decision was often the fleeing suspects' themselves. They were men who got their rough hands dirty, who knew their guns like an extension of themselves. They were the men the FBI called on in its young years, when their polished agents had trouble tracking the country's most notorious lawbreakers; its designated Public Enemies.

Of course, it's doubtful J. Edgar Hoover would've called on these men to do what they did so well, had it not been for the advice of one man, a man who had worked with them before when he was head of the Investigation office in Oklahoma City.

A few weeks ago, my family and I went to see Public Enemies, the crime drama about the manhunt for John Dillinger. Johnny Depp of course plays the outlaw, and Christian Bale plays the man I've already mentioned, Mr. Melvin Purvis.

I couldn't quite get my finger on what bothered me about the movie as we watched it, so I pulled out my old Oklahoma History reader from high school when I got home. And there I found it.

To be fair, I think that the movie did a fine job of portraying him as an honorable, competant and human man. Evidence of his character is frequently shown, but too many facts are misrepresented.

First of all, Dillinger is portrayed as the films "antihero," and we're meant to grow attached to him, to root for him, etc. I'm pretty sure I was going against the grain to be pulling for Purvis the entire time, but I couldn't help myself. On the one hand, we had a man who broke the law, stole from banks across the country (thereby stealing from the bank's customers whether they realized it or not), and killed unsuspecting prison guards, not to mention, in spite of how plot-centric the romance was, was unfaithful to his girlfriend after she went to prison for his sake.

On the other, a farmer's son from South Carolina, a man devoted to true justice, who treated his men well and women, even suspects, with respect and kindness and chivalry.

*Shrug* Call me old fashioned.

In the film, as in American lore, Dillnger is often called a "Robin Hood" figure. Personally I find this very inaccurate. Robin Hood, in his best portrayals was a man looking out for an oppressed poor in a flawed monarchy, a just man in an unjust society. Not to mention his romances were virtuous. John Dillinger, on the other hand, robbed from the rich and gave to whom? Gun suppliers, speakeasies, and of course his own closet.

I read a fine article in a magazine of Jay's about the movie. It mostly focused on the highly accurate guns used, (including the GORGEOUS Mauser that Purvis carried in the Pretty Boy Floyd scene, but I digress...) but it did make some interesting points, being a conservative publication, about the morality of the film.

Christians have a comforting fact we can believe in, something that often perplexes those who don't believe in God's word and law as strongly. And that is that some things truly are black and white;

There is just killing, there is unjust killing.

John Dillinger was a criminal, and a murderer.

Melvin Purvis was an officer of the law.

Perhaps that was why, come the end of the movie, I wasn't sad for Dillinger's fate. I was sad for his "love interest," who spent years in prison for his sake. I was sad for the lives left shattered in the wake of his own. But I wasn't sad that a a man who dealt in death had met his inevitable fate.
One thing that did make me sad? In order to fit their version of the story, the filmmakers carefully worded the end notes to the detriment of dear Mr. Purvis.

Yes, shortly after the death of Mr. Dillinger he resigned from the FBI. However, most FBI historians assert it had more to do with Hoover than guilt over Dillinger. Hoover was all pomp and circumstance, the product of a wily publicist; the film did show this quite well. After several flashy arrests, on the virtue of his excellent record and personal style Mr. Purvis eclipsed his supervisor in the eyes of the press to become an absolute icon for several years. Jealous, Hoover privately pressured the better man to resign. Purvis was never after, nor entirely comfortable with the spotlight; he lived out the rest of his life back in South Carolina, where he practiced law. (And, interestingly enough, became partial inspiration for the timeless character of Atticus Finch.)

Finally, the filmmakers would have you believe, when they say "died by his own hand," that Purvis committed suicide over guilt and inability to live with himself owing to personal compromises he made during the manhunt for Dillinger. Melvin Purvis did die in his home, from a bullet fired from the gun presented to him upon his resignation from the FBI. All evidence suggests that it was a gun cleaning accident. It happens to even the best among firearms handling.

And thus ends my tangent on the late Mr. P, who, having lived in and been a part of Oklahoma and her history, even for a short time, is subject to the

LYDIA SLATTON SEAL OF REPUTATION AND FACT PROTECTION.

That's right. Bring it on, Hollywood. ;)

Ah!

So sorry for the delay, things sudenly swirled into crazy around here. But I do have a plan, sometime in the coming week and a half for another juicy post.

Coming this week...

What I've been up to these past months...In pictures!

Poking my head up again

After a long time, I've decided I need to start blogging again. I have some nice, meaty post ideas in the works, as well as few simple ones and picture posts, namely our newly redone kitchen and the first yields of our brand new garden!

A lot has happened, I can't deny it. But that will come later...for now, I'm glad to be back in blogland!

~ Lydia

History, Challenges, and Preparation

Hello, all! It's been some time since I've been able to post, but I've got some time tonight, so I thought I would update.

My discussions in history class have been very fruitful. I have a few classmates who have been surprisingly courageous in backing me up once I've started dialogue. I doubt I am changing our professor's mind, but I do believe I'm helping others like myself not be dissuaded. I have my first test in that class this Friday; wish me luck, we'll see how it goes.

I've found that college is a very indulgent environment, a microcosm largely unaffected by reality. At least half of the students I interact with on a daily basis smoke cigarettes, and another large percentage are involved in illegal drugs or underage drinking. Comments about the way I dress, flippant curse words, and frank talk about immorality are regularly filtered through my ears. I'm very, very grateful I do not live on campus, and can retreat to my home to think things through.

I know that trials are only sanctification tools in the hands of the Lord, and in that I can trust. As a Catholic, I am entering the season of Lent tomorrow. I will be getting up early to participate in a universal ceremony to mark the beginning of the season and remind us of our mortality. As a child, I loved the season of Lent more than any other. That still holds true now. Weeks of solemn chant, reflection, and fasting await me. It could not come at a better time, and I know my dedication to my obligations will keep me grounded in the whirlwind at college.

I wish you all a wonderful night and hope to update again soon.

...And Pass the Ammunition

I had the good fortune to look ahead in the book we're reading for History, an awful discourse by Howard Zinn. I found out that there's a chapter we should be getting to in a few weeks that deals exclusively with Zinn's perceived treatment of women in American history.

Oh yes, I'm gathering ammo and making notes now. Dr. B says to "bring your guns" to class discussion. Well, that's just what I'm going to do.