On the recommendation of several blogs that I visit occasionally, I ordered the book written in the 1800s Stepping Heavenward: One Woman’s Journey to Godliness by Elizabeth Prentiss. And I read it. And taking the risk that this blog might seem like a book review blog, I’m going to review it anyhow. Maybe I should make a new category.

The story is told through a series of journal entries by the heroine, Katy. Now, I have to admit it–Katy drives me nuts. Probably because she’s too much like myself. [wry smile] The irritating parts of myself.

And everybody dies. I realize that it is the 1800s. I realize that Mrs. Prentiss, like Tolstoy, is interested and concerned in how people die…spiritually speaking. But it seems like someone is dying or coughing ominously on every other page. This in and of itself caused me to want to hurry through the book.

The flavor and language of the spirituality is 1800s-ish. Despite that, it is fairly light and enjoyable reading. The story of spiritual growth is all-too familiar and for the most part transcends the more ‘dated’ writing style. I can see that Mrs. Prentiss brought a great deal of liveliness to the idea of a spiritual person that probably was rather uncommon at the time. You can’t help but like Katy for her impulsiveness–something which is blessedly not done away with as she increases in her faith.

And all that being said, there are a number of gems–the very kind that I was led to believe the book contained. I’m always drawn to any help, perspective, and inspiration that helps my life as a mother increase in meaning and usefulness. Here’s a tidbit:

After her third baby was born:

She [her antagonistic live-in sister-in-law, Martha] says I shall now have one mouth the more to fill and two feet the more to shoes, more distrubed nights, more laborious days, and less leisure or visiting, reading, music, and drawing.

Well! This is one side of the story, to be sure, but I look at the other. Here is a sweet, fragrant mouth to kiss; here are two more feet to make music with their pattering about my nursery. Here is a soul to train for God; and the body in which it dwells is worthy all it will cost, since it is the abode of a kingly tenant. I may see less of friends, but I have gained one dearer than them all, to whom, while I minister, in Christ’s name, I make a willing sacrifice of what little leisure for my own recreation my other darlings had left me. Yes, my precious baby, you are welcome to your mother’s heart, welcome to her time, her strength, her health, her tenderest cares, to her lifelong prayers! Oh, how rich I am, how truly, how wondrously blest! (pp. 228-229.)

There now, isn’t that just divine?  I don’t think that I will ever again pick up this book to read just for the joy of it (who knows? maybe I will).  But I can definitely foresee reading it again when I’m struggling with myself, or when I need a clearer picture of my vocation.