Laura ingalls wilder biography pictures of rosary

Cassidy Van Slyke recalls growing up with plenty of opportunities for her soul to connect with God's beautiful miracles in the natural world.

The first encounters with God that I can recall are lying in the warm grass and staring up at the big blue sky, watching the floating clouds wisp into magical shapes. My heart filled with wonder, experiencing my first monumental memories of pondering what lies beyond, my little soul connecting with the all-encompassing power of God’s beautiful miracles.  

Growing up on many acres of land that had been a functional farm many decades before, I spent most of my summer days climbing tall trees, hiding inside potato field groves, and pretending I was Laura Ingalls Wilder. I pioneered with my imaginary family, frolicking in the fields, joyously lost in my own world. 

Let the heavens be glad and the earth rejoice; let the sea and what fills it resound; let the plains be joyful and all that is in them. Then let all the trees of the forest rejoice. (Psalm ) 
 

My family of origin frequently traveled to the mountains out West, where my brother and I exuberantly skied through trees, rode gondolas up to the tops of mountains, and listened to the quiet solitude of clean air, always encouraged by my parent’s passion for the outdoors and spending quiet moments in the wild. As I grew older, there were many times during my teen years when I wanted to go on the beach vacations and commercial cruises my classmates experienced, craving to be like everyone else versus the Idaho horse ranches and small mountain ski resorts we visited, most notably without crowds of fellow teenagers that I was hoping to meet. 

All grown up now, my husband and four little children just returned from a week spent in the same mountains I visited as a child. What a gift it was that I could share the unspoiled beauty of God’s natural world with my children.

Freemasonry-related fraternal organization

Not to be confused with Order of the Star in the East.

The Order of the Eastern Star (OES) is a Masonicappendantbody open to both men and women. It was established in by lawyer and educator Rob Morris, a noted Freemason, and adopted and approved as an appendant body of the Masonic Fraternity in The order is based on some teachings from the Bible and is open to people of all religious beliefs. It has approximately 10, chapters in 18 countries and approximately , members under its General Grand Chapter.

Members of the Order of the Eastern Star are aged 18 and older; men must be Master Masons and women used to need to have specific relationships with Masons, however this was changed at General Grand Chapter in Originally, a woman would have to be the daughter, widow, wife, sister, or mother of a Master Mason. The Order now allows other relatives as well as allowing Job's Daughters, Rainbow Girls, and Members of the Organization of Triangles (NY only) to become members when of age.

History

The Order was created by Rob Morris in when he was teaching at the Eureka Masonic College in Richland, Mississippi. While confined by illness, he set down the principles of the order in his Rosary of the Eastern Star. By , he had organized a "Supreme Constellation" in New York, which chartered chapters throughout the United States.

In , Dr. Morris started working with Robert Macoy, and handed the Order over to him while Morris was traveling in the Holy Land. Macoy organized the current system of Chapters, and modified Dr. Morris' Rosary into a Ritual.

Similarly to Freemasonry, the Order of Eastern Star was not open to African Americans. Prince Hall Freemasonry was formed in and the first Prince Hall Order of the Eastern Star chapter was founded on December 1, , titled, Queen Esther Chapter, No. 1, and established in Washington,

Over the course of my life, I have taken on all manner of spiritual practices, from now-I-lay-me-down-to-sleep to centering prayer. I have prayed with the Psalms, with the rosary, with icons. I have picked up practices and put them down. Some still discipline and nourish my praying life.

But of all the spiritual disciplines I have ever attempted, the habit of steady reading has helped me most and carried me farthest. Of course, reading scripture has been indispensable. But reading fiction—classics of world literature, fairy tales and Greek myths, science fiction and detective novels—has done more to baptize my imagination, inform my faith and strengthen my courage than all the prayer techniques in the world.

For as long as I can remember, even before I could read, I have loved books. The heft and smell of them, their implicit promise. The magical way they hold riches beyond measure, like chests of pirate gold. The way they open doors to other worlds. The house I grew up in had floor-to-ceiling bookcases in nearly every room, books piled on tables, books stacked in the hall and lining the stairs.

I still remember the shock of amazement and delight when I first learned to read by myself: the alchemical moment when random hieroglyphics on the page leapt into meaning, forming pictures in my mind. From that magic moment, I took off like a rocket. I read fairy tales from Germany, France, Russia, Denmark, Scandinavia; I read Arthurian legends and Golden Books, Andrew Lang and George MacDonald. I went steadily through everything the home shelves and the public library’s children’s room had to offer.

My passion for reading alarmed my father; by the time I was in the third grade, he was worrying aloud about bluestockings and bookworms, mournfully predicting myopia and spinsterhood. But my mother, amused and pleased, encouraged me.

In fact, I realize now that my mother carefully crafted my love of books from my earliest childhood. Like an Argonauta, the mysteriou

Looking back at childhood Christmases, Elena LaVictoire focuses not on what she lacked, but on the love of her family.

I recently found an old photo of my family Christmas tree from around There was a modest amount of presents under the tree and a felt Santa Claus figure hanging in the doorway. I have absolutely no idea what I got for Christmas that year, and I couldn’t tell you what was in all those packages. Yet the picture gave me a good case of nostalgia for my childhood Christmases. I texted a copy of the photo to my sister (something that would’ve been hard even to explain back in ), and she felt it, too.  

We weren’t feeling all the feelings because the tree was so gorgeous. In fact, it looked kind of skinny and sparse. It was one of the first artificial trees available at the time. I think my grandma may have ordered it from a catalog. The ornaments looked frayed, and the most standout thing about them was a colorful construction-paper chain that one of us must have constructed for the occasion. Seeing the midth-century décor that I remembered so fondly was interesting. That faux wood paneling Grandma installed looked kind of silly to my eyes now. But that wasn’t the source of my fondness for the photo.  

The truth is, we were not well off. My mom was separated from my dad, living with her two daughters in her parents’ home; my uncle with learning disabilities was living with us, and my grandparents were making ends meet with their Social Security checks. But I didn’t realize any of that back then. To my younger self, this was my family, and we loved each other. None of the stuff, the presents, or the Christmas food remains in my memory. I just remember loving Christmas, my family, and their love for me.  

A Little House example 

This year, I am reading the Little House books with my granddaughter and her homeschool classmates. We stopped for the