Lauren and Mikaela--identical twins living on opposite coasts--blog about the story of life and their adventures in faith.


The Art of Family: Sisters

The timeless relationship of sisters—whether it is sister-to-sister or brother-to-sister—has been immortalized in literature (Little Women), film (Meet Me in St. Louis; Fiddler on the Roof), and song (“Sisters, Sisters” in White Christmas). Sisters can provide some of the strongest bonds one has and the best opportunity for influence. Have you ever met the sister of a long-time friend of yours? Have you noticed how, when you’re talking to her, you seem to be talking to your friend? The same mispronunciations, habits, quirks, and mannerisms are often so aptly duplicated in sisters that the comparison is eerie. With three sisters of my own, I have come to appreciate the impact I can have on my sister’s lives. While there is often an emphasis on the elder sister’s example (don’t I know it!), younger sisters can have just as great an impact. Scott Adams, a cartoonist, once said, “You don’t have to be a ‘person of influence’ to be influential. In fact, the most influential people in my life are probably not even aware of the things they’ve taught me.”
In order for older sisters to help their younger sisters, and younger sisters to help their older sisters, and brothers to help their sisters, however, everyone must have a key starting point: a good relationship with each other. “You cannot antagonize and influence at the same time,” J.S. Knox said, and truer words were never spoken, because they are based in Scriptural principles:
“From whence come wars and fightings among you? come they not hence, even of your lusts that war in your members? …Do ye think that the scripture saith in vain, The spirit that dwelleth in us lusteth to envy? But he giveth more grace. Wherefore he saith, God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace unto the humble (James 4:1, 5 and 6).”
I am always blessed by the little things my siblings do for me—the mornings when Jonah makes my bed, or Susanna compliments my hair, or Melanie shares what God has been teaching her, or Micah opens the door for me, or Lauren volunteers to make that phone call both of us were dreading. I store up in my memory these precious gems. These are the things my siblings do for their sisters, and they have given me the boost I need to continue following God with joy and courage.
So examine your life today, following the principles of Matthew 5:22-24, and see if there is any conflict between you and your sister. With God’s help, go and mend this broken relationship, and then set about befriending your sister until you are inseparable, irrational, and incessant cheerleaders, friends, and accountability partners: then you will have a sister.


The Art of Family: Brothers

If you have a really, really good memory, you might recall that I posted on my Great Great Great Grandmother’s scrapbook, and that I partially quoted an article written by one Reverend Frank W. Gunsaulus called “Being a Good Sister.” Although I, obviously, have no personal experience with being a brother, these words seem equally suited to brother-to-brother relationship as well as the sister-to-brother relationship if you simply substitute a few words. I want to share more of the article with you today, so prepare to be convicted and inspired:

“It takes brains, heart, conscience, womanhood, to be a good sister. Some other girl’s brother, with nothing to commend him, perhaps, but a huge stick of wood which he is barely able to carry up and down the street [a dapper cane, perhaps?], or a highly colored pair of gloves which he has scarcely brains enough to pull on, is likely to be of vastly more interest to you than the boy in your own home, who has shared with you your mother’s prayers and your father’s care, the blood and traditions and hope of your family.
“There is no nobler missionary work on this planet than to give him at least a good sister. You can make no grander contribution to the world’s treasure. Heart is the contribution most needed by our civilization to-day. If your brother has no more brains than to compare you, whom he sees in common duties, and associated with the drudgery of daily life, with another girl, whom he has never seen except at her best and on dress parade, that is not your fault. Be sure you give him a sublime idea of what a woman can be and ought to be in the midst of the commonplace. Every time you add to your worthiness…you add to the capital of the race and the quality of your future.”

Less than a week old, Micah is already the prince of the family!

I still remember when my family was only four girls, and Mama announced she was pregnant again. One fateful day we all crowded into the ultrasound room to check up on the baby, although my parents still wanted the gender to be a surprise. Unfortunately, the ultrasound technician was so overcome by her joy for us that she could not restrain from shouting: “It’s a boy!” Whereupon she was met with open-mouthed disbelief that not only had she just ruined our surprise, but we were also about to welcome a boy into our feminine family! A few weeks later, I shared my elation with a friend, only to meet with another stare of disbelief. She warned me with sober ten-year-old earnestness that brothers were horrible creatures, and whether they were older or younger didn’t figure into the equation—they were rotten to the core.
I was perplexed then, but I have now come to believe that she was dead wrong. My brothers are the joy of my life! And, in a society that abounds with spineless, overgrown boys who are more concerned about sports and cars than their families, we need to shoulder our responsibility as siblings to envision our brother’s futures.
Treat them like men. Ask them for advice, let them open the door for you, and impress on them that they will one day be the leaders of their homes and the breadwinners of their families! Tell them what talents you see in them and what ways you think God will want to use them. Pray for them daily, for they will face unimaginable pressure and even persecution in the future. If you are a sister, show to them the kind of godly woman they should look for as a wife. If you are a brother, show to them the kind of godly man they should become. Even if your brothers are older than you, look up to them, brag on them, and let them know that how they live today influences the choices that you make tomorrow.
As for those of you who don’t have brothers…I’m terribly sorry for you, for you just don’t know what you’re missing!


Let's Go Shopping!

Note: This Tuesday we take a brief break from "The Art of Family" series. Check back on Friday for another installment!

Grab $10 off your bureau and join me in a journey back in time. First, we are transported to 1902...what would you buy?

I have a strong suspicion that the above illustrations are pictures of girls' heads
attached to penciled drawings.

The price page is missing on the windmills, so if that's what you want to get...we'll just say it's $5 even. ;-)

Arsenic for your complexion, anyone?

Note the incredibly comfortable-looking football pants! C'mon, guys, wouldn't you want to play in those? Also, I am quite personally attached to the "Velvet Puff Trunks" (right column):
"Beautiful velvet puff trunks, made of the finest velvet, full puff...for theatrical or athletic exhibitions. Price, per pair, 80c."

Try getting a violin outfit for $5.50 these days or a cello for $9.25!

What charming charms! The ladies might have to appropriate some of these.
Now we travel forward in time to the grand modern age of 1922...

Note especially the middle, left column item:
"Start your Ford from the seat with a Sandbo Starter."
And here I always thought the poor people had to get out and crank!

Such charming, handsome young men!

Yes. Those are wigs. Two whole pages of them.

I think that I'll get a hat ($2.35), violin outfit ($5.50), Lantern charm--the last one on the first row--(50c), Bisque Doll (98c), and Boston Baked Beans (43c). There! all that for $9.76! Pretty good shopping, don't you think? What would you get for $10? Click on the pictures to enlarge them and make your selection, and then leave a comment and let me know!

The 1902 pictures came from The 1902 Edition of the Sears, Roebuck Catalog, and the 1922 items are located in the Montgomery Ward Catalogue: 1922.


The Art of Family: Mothers

“A daughter is a mother's gender partner, her closest ally in the family confederacy, an extension of her self. And mothers are their daughters' role model, their biological and emotional road map, the arbiter of all their relationships.” ~Victoria Secunda

There is something wonderful that has happened to my relationship with my mother as I have grown older: it has deepened and grown sweeter. She doesn’t have to spank me or rescind privileges anymore—just knowing that I have hurt her hurts me deeply too. And now, rather than simply observing her clean the house, wash the dishes, teach the children, run errands, make dinner, and smoothly handle crises, I am learning from her and doing it along with her.
Many is the time, though, that I wish that I could do more for her. My mother is my father’s helpmeet and she is shaping the lives of her children as she teaches them. She is doing this, though, in a world that asks, “What’s your career again?” and smirks to hear that she is a homemaker. She is doing it by putting others first and herself last in a universe that people think revolves around them. Tenneva Jordan described all of our mothers when she said, “A mother is a person who, seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie.”
The truth is, though, that our mothers all face discouragement, times of stress, and disheartening setbacks. They unceasingly persevere through the day-to-day hum-drum routine because of their love, but they are also the object of much attack from Satan, who would love to derail these women who control the future generations. What can we do?
The answer is simple: be to our mothers what Ruth was to Naomi. Granted, Naomi wasn’t Ruth’s real mother, nor was Ruth Naomi’s real daughter. But when I read of their precious relationship in Scripture, I somehow forget that insignificant fact, so mother-daughter-esque is their relationship.
Naomi was facing an unknown future, and she was so discouraged that “she said to [the people], ‘Do not call me Naomi; call me Mara, for the Almighty has dealt very bitterly with me. (Ruth 1:20)” Ever selfless, she even urged Ruth to leave her and have a better life, but Ruth knew better. In one of those moments of history that I would give anything to have observed, Ruth grippingly declared her love and devotion to her mother-in-law. Her words were so passionate that many use this expression of daughterly love in their wedding ceremony.

“Entreat me not to leave you,
Or to turn back from following after you;
For wherever you go, I will go;
And wherever you lodge, I will lodge;
Your people shall be my people,
And your God, my God.
Where you die, I will die,
And there will I be buried.
The LORD do so to me, and more also,
If anything but death parts you and me. (Ruth 1:16-17)"
Ruth soon found herself a traveling companion, a grain-scrounger, and a daughter-in-submission to Naomi. I hope you just had the same epiphany I did--that Ruth's joy-giving, long-revered actions sound shockingly like what any daughter could do in 2009. We can all confide in and submit to our mothers, run errands, make dinner, and say “I love you." Small, yes, but if we do it with a prayer on our heart and love on our face, I think the message will come through. After all, Ruth’s patient servanthood helped to transform Naomi from a disheartened, bitter woman to a joyful one who was blessed by all who knew her. An unexpected twist, though, is that we ourselves will be blessed, whether it is by learning homemaking from the best teacher or by finding Boaz in a grainfield. (-:
Ruth 4:14-15 says, “Then the women said to Naomi, "Blessed be the LORD, who has not left you this day without a close relative; and may his name be famous in Israel! And may he be to you a restorer of life and a nourisher of your old age; for your daughter-in-law, who loves you, who is better to you than seven sons, has borne him." We may not be able to give our mothers seven sons, but we can give ourselves with a smile and say, “Just call me Ruth.”


The Art of Family: Fathers

This article commences a new, two-week series focused on one’s family. Although no family member is perfect, we will be putting the responsibility squarely on your shoulders, dear readers, to love, edify, and enable your family to love and good works.

In Pride and Prejudice, one finds family dynamics that are uniquely memorable, with almost every member of the Bennet family possessing some dysfunctional idiosyncrasy. On first glance, Mr. Bennet appears to be one of the sensible ones, though. He is learned, levelheaded, and pragmatic. Yet the truth of his character reveals itself:
“[Elizabeth’s] father captivated by youth and beauty, and that appearance of good humour, which youth and beauty generally give, had married a woman whose weak understanding and illiberal mind, had very early in their marriage put an end to all real affection for her…her ignorance and folly had contributed to his amusement….Elizabeth, however, had never been blind to the impropriety of her father’s behaviour as a husband. …She endeavoured to forget what she could not overlook, and to banish from her thoughts that continual breach of conjugal obligation and decorum which, in exposing his wife to the contempt of her own children, was so highly reprehensible. But she had never…been so fully aware of the evils arising from so ill-judged a direction of talents; talents which rightly used, might at least have preserved the respectability of his daughters, even if incapable of enlarging the mind of his wife (Chapter 19).”
Here is a man who, if he had existed outside the pages of fiction, would have stood in front of the Judgment Seat with no possible rationalization or excuse for his behavior, proving wholly responsible for lack of care and protection towards his family. Yet isn’t it sad that his two “wise” daughters never exerted themselves towards inspiring their father to something other than pessimism and cranial self-absorption? Once Elizabeth Bennet futilely attempts to convince her father of the foolishness of letting Lydia, a younger sister, traipse off to vacation with a regiment of soldiers. One cannot help but wonder if Elizabeth would have succeeded if she had been accustomed to go to her father for permission in all the little quandaries life brings. Thus if her father had become accustomed to governing his daughters, he might have been more apt to interfere with Lydia’s plans for her own sake.
Such observations certainly do not minimize the responsibility of fathers. They are required to care for their family physically, morally, and spiritually regardless of the aid they receive from their wife, daughters, and sons (“But if any provide not for his own, and specially for those of his own house, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel [I Timothy 5:8].”) Since I am not writing to the fathers, however, but to the sons and daughters, I want you to realize the immense potential there is for you to influence your father in one way or another.
If you make each duty of your father an easier one, you will have succeeded. If you meet his every request with enthusiasm, you will have established trust. If you show him love and respect even when he is not in the best of moods, you will give him joy. If, by doing all these things, you enable him to cease treading water, raise his head, notice the thousands of others drowning around him with no hope, and sound a call to action, then you will have fulfilled your purpose. You may smile, knowing that your quiet actions behind the scenes have given your father the ability to pursue the vision God has given to him. Submission will have brought success.
Corrie ten Boom was one such daughter to her father. For almost fifty years, she was not “Corrie ten Boom The Brave Hider of Jews” but Corrie ten Boom the assistant to her father’s watch shop. She could have continued on in this safe existence, urging her aged father to avoid the risk to his established shop, beautiful home, and beloved family. However, she and her sister Betsie facilitated their father’s conviction that something must be done. Once, when Corrie was attempting to find a home for a Jewish baby, she approached a friend for help:
“Color drained from the man’s face. He took a step back from me. ‘Miss ten Boom! I do hope you’re not involved with any of this illegal concealment…It’s just not safe! Think of your father!’…Unseen by either of us, Father had appeared in the doorway. ‘Give the child to me, Corrie,’ he said. Father held the baby close, his white beard brushing its cheek, looking into the little face with eyes as blue and innocent as the baby’s…’You say we could lose our lives for this child. I would consider that the greatest honor that could come to my family.’”
Does your father have the freedom to direct you? Does your father have implicit trust in you? Can your father risk his and your life for God’s kingdom, knowing that you will gladly follow? Your answers could make the difference between having Mr. Bennet for a father, and having Mr. ten Boom. More importantly, however, it will make THE difference in your life: “Honour thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the LORD thy God giveth thee (Exodus 20:12).”

The adorable picture in this post's header was drawn by my little brother and in-house artist, Jonah. ;-)
Austen, Jane. Pride and Prejudice. Barnes and Noble Publishing, New York, 2006.
ten Boom, Corrie. The Hiding Place. Spire Books, New Jersey, 1971.


The Story of a Traitor

We all know the story: Edmund Pevensie betrayed his own brother and sisters, choosing candy from the White Witch over his own family. "What a disgusting show of cowardice and selfish stupidity," I tend to think, only liking Edmund because of his redeeming actions later on in the story. Somehow, it doesn’t seem that anything I do could ever be quite as low as Edmund’s deeds.
But then I can't help but imagine the other version of Edmund's story--the way that I usually live it.
In this version, Aslan gives his life in a heart-rending, never-to-be-forgotten sacrifice to free Edmund from his ruthless captor. Then, in yet another never-to-be-forgotten explosion of power, Aslan returns to life, and you breathe a sigh of relief—the story is about to come to a beautiful close. Think again, and imagine this: the next night, Edmund simply cannot resist the neon lure of the evil woman’s indulgences. So he slinks off into the darkness, makes his way toward the twin mountains, slips through the icy door of the palace that was once his torture chamber, and stands exuberantly in the eery, evil presence of the White Witch--yet again!
My mouth is open in horror! How despicable that Edmund would toss aside Aslan’s greatest sacrifice and return to the evil that had enslaved him! Doesn't he know what the White Witch would do to him? I can't say for sure, but I would venture that the scene of her revenge would be so gruesome that it would never make a PG rated movie.
As apalling as this alternate ending may be, it is often the standard ending for Christians, including myself.
Satan is our mortal adversary, but we often treat him as a peddler of sweets! The truth is that he should own no ground in our soul, conduct no trade with our body, and entice no part of a our mind.
It is only through Christ’s sacrifice that we live. Yet every time we sin we turn from Christ to Satan, the hater of our souls. We do this daily, feel bad, and repent, only to start the cycle over again. Thus we inexcusably play Benedict Arnold to Jesus and submit to being imprisoned by the devil! Those whom we most despise and loathe are traitors, yet we act as Benedict Arnold, Judas, and Edmund every day.
Let us grieve inconsolably for our sin that nailed Jesus to the cross. Let us know that the White Witch is dead to us, and let us not raise her up. “Knowing this, that our old man was crucified with Him, that the body of sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves of sin. For he who has died has been freed from sin….Likewise you also, reckon yourselves to be dead indeed to sin, but alive to God in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 6:6,7,11)”
Matthew Henry wrote, “Most men continue shut up as in a dark dungeon, in love with their sins, being blinded and lulled asleep by Satan, through worldly pleasures, interests, and pursuits. (Concise Commentary on Galatians 3:23-25)”
Let us not be most men then, for they are traitors. Let us believe Christ when He said, “It is finished (John 19:30)”, turn our back on Apollyon and his enticements, and run to Christ, who is ever loving and forgiving no matter how apalling our betrayal.
Personally, I think it’s a much better end to the story.

Picture from


A Visit From The Gipper

I vote for, support, or disagree with politicians, bills, and ideoligies based on my convictions under God--not because of an "all-powerful" party line. This I keep reminding a Democrat friend of mine who is disposed to unearth all sorts of nasty Republican trivia. What can I do but shrug my shoulders and agree with him that Republicans are not all they should be? Of course, I quickly endeavor to point out the pros and cons of his cherished party.
Lately, however, I have become discouraged. After eight short months of constantly being on the alert against some new drama unfolding on Capitol Hill, I feel apathetic. I find myself wondering if anything I do will change the entrenched liberal ideals in Washington state or the newly invincible majority in Washington city.
Of course, most of you are aware of the healthcare bill in Congress right now. Such a monumental octupus as this, with tentacles and arms slithering into every crack and cranny in every department in the government, is not only action-inspiring, but also downright scary. Will you take a few minutes to watch this clip? Before he was anything but an actor, Ronald Reagan spoke out against a different socialized healthcare bill, showing that such battles are as timeless as they are dangerous. It seems as though he took to the stage in front of flashing lightbulbs and anxious reporters just a few days ago, so timely is his message.

Now go visit here and contact your senators and representatives. Call and email, but don't forget to write--it makes a big impression in our electronic world. Oh, and guess what? My indifference has vanished. Funny how that works.


One Year Ago

September 5, 2008
Our Sound Foundation "team" with whom we did everything.
We’ve all been there: you wake up one morning, go about your routine, and are in the middle of brushing your teeth when the thought jumps out like a mischievous brother from behind a door. “What was I doing a year ago today?” Your mind rewinds past a Christmas, a birthday, a year of growth, and a lot of maturing and then pauses on a memory that occurred exactly 365 days ago. That’s what I’ll be doing tomorrow. No, I won’t be looking back to a world event or an amazing discovery. I’ll be reminiscing instead about my last day at Sound Foundations—a music course—in Indianapolis, Indiana. For three weeks that stretched like an eternity for a girl who was away from her much-loved family but that moved much too quickly for a girl who was making lifelong friends, Mikaela and I were with 57 other homeschooled, Christian young people learning how best to glorify God with our music.

I got to experience conducting an orchestra!
We crammed for theory tests on harmonic analysis, watched and listened to an elderly man sing the Psalms with his beautiful white-haired wife, and arranged a hymn for our orchestra. We even survived piano master classes with a Russian pianist with plenty of skill but just no tact!
Mikaela's looking quite proficient!
We had fun, too—like when the elevator door slowly opened to reveal a huge overstuffed armchair elegantly placed in the center of the small space. And speaking of elevators, the button to the boy’s floor didn’t always work so swell—but they discovered a way to help it along: you had to stand on one foot with your tongue hanging out and sing the Hallelujah Chorus. Right! We got amazing packages from our family and friends back at home, and we were notified about them by a little piece of paper that proclaimed “O Happy Day! You have a package!” Whereupon we skedaddled to the office to pick it up, to the envy of the others! (-: We learned what it sounded like to sing “He Is King,” “As a Deer,” and “The Smile Song” all at the same time in different parts of the bus on the way to church: a fun sort of cacophony! We also realized what it is like to endure fourteen days without rain, and some of the girls even went out and had a water fight when a downpour finally came.

An object lesson from which we never quite recovered!

We could not have known it at the time, but that was the last Sound Foundations that would ever be held. Nevertheless, when the final note of our last choir song “Fairest Lord Jesus” died out at our concert, we all felt bewildered that it was over already, and the only thing we could do was look around at each other, hug, and say “good-bye” a million times over.

We made many friends!

From those three weeks I learned to worship God in a precious way I had never been able to do before; I grew by fellowshipping with girls who, amazingly, lived just as “counter-culturally” as myself; I learned how little sleep I could survive on; I learned and was inspired by the challenge learned that it is up to us to push forward a revival of God-honoring Christian music for the next generations.
In honor of my sentimentality, I am calling all Sound Foundations alumni (even if you went a different year!) to come out of the dark and comment! What have you done since Sound Foundations? What is your favorite memory? For the rest of you, what were you doing a year ago today?
As for me…Sound Foundations was a year ago, and when was the last time I actually took up the challenge, used what I learned, and stood for God-glorifying music? Um…oh yeah—yesterday.


Little Women

There is a little book which has resided on our family’s bookshelf as long as I can remember. Yet try as I might, I could never manage to finish the exactly 500 page volume. I began it at least half a dozen times over the years, never making it much past page fifty, despite its liveliness and my interest in it. Henry Thoreau was right, however, when he said, “read the best books first, or you may not have a chance to read them at all,” and so this very morning I completed the book: Little Women. If you have never gotten around to reading this treasure, I must warn you that while I empathize with your plight, I am on a mission to proselytize you.
In Little Women, you will find the stories of four sisters, and the account of their childish whims, hopes, dreams, insecurities, failings, and triumphs. Their dear mother and father guide them along the way:

"I want my daughters to be beautiful, accomplished, and good. To be admired, loved, and respected. To have a happy youth, to be well and wisely married, and to lead useful, pleasant lives, with as little care and sorrow to try them as God sees fit to send. To be loved and chosen by a good man is the best and sweetest thing which can happen to a woman, and I sincerely hope my girls may know this beautiful experience. It is natural to think of it, Meg, right to hope and wait for it, and wise to prepare for it, so that when the happy time comes, you may feel ready for the duties and worthy of the joy…."
"Poor girls don't stand any chance, Belle says, unless they put themselves forward," sighed Meg.
"Then we'll be old maids," said Jo stoutly.
"Right, Jo. Better be happy old maids than unhappy wives, or unmaidenly girls, running about to find husbands," said Mrs. March decidedly. "Don't be troubled, Meg, poverty seldom daunts a sincere lover. Some of the best and most honored women I know were poor girls, but so love-worthy that they were not allowed to be old maids. Leave these things to time. Make this home happy, so that you may be fit for homes of your own, if they are offered you, and contented here if they are not. One thing remember, my girls. Mother is always ready to be your confidant, Father to be your friend, and both of us hope and trust that our daughters, whether married or single, will be the pride and comfort of our lives."
"We will, Marmee, we will!" cried both, with all their hearts, as she bade them good night.
(From Chapter Nine)

Somewhere along the way, these girls changed: Meg gave up her high ideals of dramatic love for a quiet but difficult romance; Jo lost the need to prove herself and realized that family is better than any fame or fortune she could have gained; Beth confronted her most difficult challenge; and Amy found humility and, with her airs, selfishness, and vanity gone, formed a beautiful character.
It’s Jo’s poetry, however, that sums up the story best:

Four little chests all in a row,
Dim with dust, and worn by time,
Four women, taught by weal and woe
To love and labor in their prime.
Four sisters, parted for an hour,
None lost, one only gone before,
Made by love's immortal power,
Nearest and dearest evermore.
Oh, when these hidden stores of ours
Lie open to the Father's sight,
May they be rich in golden hours,
Deeds that show fairer for the light,
Lives whose brave music long shall ring,
Like a spirit-stirring strain,
Souls that shall gladly soar and sing
In the long sunshine after rain.

I am just a bit older than Meg was when the story opens—and with four girls in our family, we often attempt to find our bit of resemblance in each character. I cannot help but contemplate, however, the deeper meaning behind this piece of literature. I think of my three sisters and I—of our whims, hopes, dreams, insecurities, failings, and triumphs. I hope that we will be as transformed in ten years as Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy were, but I know that such a transformation will only be wrought by sorrows and cares as well as successes and happiness.
In Chapter Thirteen, Jo rashly but sincerely exclaimed, “I’d have a stable full of Arabian steeds, rooms piled with books, and I’d write out of a magic inkstand, so that my works should be as famous as Laurie’s music. I want to do something splendid before I go into my castle—something heroic, or wonderful—that won’t be forgotten after I’m dead. I don’t know what, but I’m on the watch for it, and mean to astonish you all, some day. I think I shall write books, and get rich and famous; that would suit me, so that is my favorite dream.”
However, in the very last chapter—forty-seven—Amy asked Joe about that very thing:

"And yet your life is very different from the one you pictured so long ago. Do you remember our castles in the air?" asked Amy, smiling as she watched Laurie and John playing cricket with the boys.
"Dear fellows! It does my heart good to see them forget business and frolic for a day," answered Jo, who now spoke in a maternal way of all mankind. "Yes, I remember, but the life I wanted then seems selfish, lonely, and cold to me now.”

Jo discovered what all children must learn before they can grow up: personal glory, riches, or pleasure pale in comparison to giving others joy, comfort, and love. Ten years is a long time in the life of four sisters, but I hope that we may put it to as good a use as the March family.
Blog Widget by LinkWithin