A Pocketful of Pebbles

I rediscovered the book Mrs. Miniver recently at the library. It’s been fun to read it again and savor some of my favorite parts.

I especially love this section:

“As she walked past a cab rank in Pont Street, Mrs. Miniver heard a very fat taxi-driver with a bottle nose saying to a very old taxi-driver with a rheumy eye: ‘They say it’s all a question of your subconscious mind.’

Enchanted she put the incident in her pocket for Clem. It jostled, a bright pebble, against several others: she had had a rewarding day. And Clem, who had driven down to the country to lunch with a client, would be pretty certain to come back with some good stuff, too.

This was the cream of marriage, this nightly turning out of the day’s pocketful of memories, this deft habitual sharing of two eyes, two pairs of ears. It gave you, in a sense, almost a double life: though never, on the other hand, quite a single one.”

Mrs. Miniver by Jan Struther

I love the idea of collecting ideas, events, attitudes, thoughts, etc… like pebbles in my pocket. Then when my husband comes home, I slowly empty them one by one and share them.

It really is the cream of marriage.

What pebbles did you collect today?

911 – Our Battle Continues

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9/11

Who can forget the images, the horror, and the shock as the reality of that day unfolded.

The incredible loss of human life – especially civilians – brought the reality of war to our doorstep.

I recently watched the classic movie Mrs. Miniver and was struck again by the Vicar”s speech at the end of the movie.

I saw some remarkable parallels between the incredible courage and strength shown by the British during WWII as the Nazi war machine hammered the English coast for weeks on end – and the battle we are facing in our country today.

The Vicar’s speech:

We, in this quiet corner of England, have suffered the loss of friends very dear to us. Some close to this church: George West, choir boy; James Bellard, station master and bell ringer and a proud winner, only one hour before his death, of the Belding Cup for his beautiful Miniver rose; and our hearts go out in sympathy to the two families who share the cruel loss of a young girl who was married at this altar only two weeks ago.

The homes of many of us have been destroyed, and the lives of young and old have been taken. There is scarcely a household that hasn’t been struck to the heart. And why? Surely you must have asked yourself this question. Why in all conscience should these be the ones to suffer? Children, old people, a young girl at the height of her loveliness. Why these? Are these our soldiers? Are these our fighters? Why should they be sacrificed?

I shall tell you why.

Because this is not only a war of soldiers in uniform. It is a war of the people, of all the people, and it must be fought not only on the battlefield, but in the cities and in the villages, in the factories and on the farms, in the home, and in the heart of every man, woman, and child who loves freedom!

Well, we have buried our dead, but we shall not forget them.

Instead they will inspire us with an unbreakable determination to free ourselves and those who come after us from the tyranny and terror that threaten to strike us down.

This is the people’s war!

It is our war!

We are the fighters! Fight it then! Fight it with all that is in us.

And may God defend the right.”

We are still in battle – fighting for the freedom our country has been founded on.

And our battle isn’t just fought in the deserts of the middle East. It is fought in our cities, our homes and our minds.

This is our battle people!

Our freedoms are at stake.

May God defend our rights.