Endless Books

2011: The Year of Books About Books

2012-01-22T23:55:00.001-05:00

When I sat down to look over 2011 reading, I realized I had been better about reading books than cataloging them. My list-making was punctuated by “oh, I forgot to write that one down!”

It was, in fact, a really good reading year. Like most years, I dove in and read as my learning trails led me. And while that can provide an odd shape to some reading years, in 2011 a sort of theme emerged without my realizing it was doing so. 2011 turned out to be my year to read books about books.

Strange but true. A lot of my non-fiction reads were about the pleasures of reading. I even read one thoughtful book with that very title ~ Alan Jacobs’ The Pleasures of Reading in an Age of Distraction. Other non-fiction engaged the topic of reading through engaging one beloved author. My fiction list was clogged with books where other books featured heavily, from a mid-grade fiction series about a girls’ book club, to books in more than one mystery series where the fictional “detective” was based on an historical author. I even read one novel, David C. Downing’s Looking for the King, whose minor characters included my favorite group of English authors, the Inklings. I also read a collection of short stories, The Chronicles of Harris Burdick, based on another book I’ve loved for the past twenty-plus years.

I liked almost everything I read this year, some of it enormously, some of it mildly. A few books made my “love” list and are ones I’ll go back to again and again (and in some cases, already have).

Without further ado, here’s my 2011 list of favorites. Unless otherwise noted, links are to my reviews on Epinions.

Favorite Biography: Bonhoeffer by Eric Metaxas. Despite the controversy surrounding this book (see my post here ) I still found this an inspiring read. Metaxas has a gift for writing readable biographies that pull you into the person’s life. The book also inspired a lot of other learning and reading trails the rest of the year. I’m still returning to Bonhoeffer – both to read other’s work about him and to read work by him. And I mostly have this book to thank for it.

Favorite Picture Book: Ted Kooser’s Bag in the Wind. Who would have thought that a book about a plastic grocery bag could be so beautiful and inspiring? I love Ted Kooser’s poetry, and this book proves how well it works in a picture book setting. Lovely illustrations by Barry Root also make this book a delight.

Best Devotional Book: God is in the Manger, a collection of advent and Christmas readings by Dietrich Bonhoeffer.

Best Novel I Read This Year: Okay For Now by Gary D. Schmidt. I laughed, cried, and read it again almost as soon as I’d closed its pages. Yes, it’s a mid-grade novel (and I usually set up a separate mid-grade category, see below). It’s still the best novel I read this year. I’m crossing my fingers and hoping that it wins the Newbery Medal tomorrow.

Best Novel I Re-Read This Year: The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. This may become an annual re-read. And it may also go down as one of the best novels ever written about the power of reading books.

Favorite Book of Literary Analysis/Criticism: A Jane Austen Education by William Deresiewicz. I posted about it here and did a longer review which can be found at the link above.

Best “pop culture” book: The Wilder Life by Wendy McClure. This is really a hybrid because it engages Laura Ingalls Wilder from a literary perspective, but it does so much more by engaging “the Wilder life” as a wider cultural phenomenon. I posted about it in the same post as the Deresiewicz book.

Favorite “new to me” children’s book, mid-grade reader (8-12 year olds): Besides Okay for Now, probably The Penderwicks at Point Mouette by Jeanne Birdsall. What a delightful third book in the series. This was a major Penderwicks year for us as the sweet girl got hooked on the audio books in the summer and we listened to all three (some chapters more than once). We’re all eagerly awaiting the fourth installment.

Favorite “new to me” young adult book (12-15 year olds): When My Name Was Keoko by Linda Sue Park. This book might be classified as mid-grade, but it had more of a YA feel to me. Brilliant and insightful historical fiction.

Best Children’s Book I Re-Read This Year: How to choose? Every year that goes by, we read more of my favorites as a family. This year I especially loved reading aloud Anne of Green Gables and The Hobbit. Doing Gollum’s voice is fun, and so is reading Anne’s breathless, almost non-stop narrative when she first arrives at Green Gables.

Classic Book I Can’t Believe I’d Never Read Before Now: “Can’t Believe I’ve Never Read” is probably too strong a designation this year, but I was really surprised that I somehow missed Jean Webster’s Daddy Long-Legs during my childhood. I would likely have read it many times over if I’d found it at around the age of eleven.

Book I Should Have Finished (and still plan to): I’d still especially like to finish One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp and Ted Kooser’s Poetry Home Repair Manual.

The Book That Surprised Me The Most: Okay for Now. Runner-Up: The Chronicles of Harris Burdick.

The Book That Made Me Laugh the Most: Okay For Now. Runner-Up: The Wilder Life.

Book That Challenged Me the Most: Bonhoeffer

Favorite “new to me” mystery writer: Susan Wittig Albert

Favorite “new to me” fantasy writer: Hardly read any fantasy this year (though Albert’s mysteries have elements of gentle fantasy)

Favorite “new to me” Spiritual Resource or Bible for Children: Was Bob Hartman’s Angels, Angels All Around new to us this past year? I’m not sure. But oh, we love it.

Favorite Book of Theological Reflections: King's Cross by Tim Keller. Beautiful and insightful reflections on the Gospel of Mark.

"50 Years, 50 Days, 50 Blogs" Celebrating A Wrinkle in Time

2012-01-16T16:31:00.004-05:00

50 years! Does it seem possible that Madeleine L'Engle's A Wrinkle in Time could really be 50 years old?

I was delighted when I heard about the 50 Years, 50 Days, 50 Blogs celebration in honor of Wrinkle's publication. I only wish I had heard about it sooner, because I would have loved to contribute to the blog tour. (Alas, you had to be asked by the publisher, Macmillan, who initiated the tour to celebrate their new anniversary edition of Wrinkle. Which is chock full of goodies and looks way cool, a phrase I don't often use.)

As it is, I'll enjoy taking the tour and reading what others have to say about a classic book I've loved since I first devoured it at the age of eleven.

You can go to this Facebook page for the full list of the blogs participating in the 50 day celebration tour. At first I thought it was set up as a separate page on FB, but it's actually a part of the the general Wrinkle in Time page. So you can "like" the Wrinkle page and get to it that way, or just bookmark it. The tour starts today: you can find the great kick-off post here, along with a photo of the way cool (yes, twice in one post!) commemorative edition.

Little Bits of the Writing Life

2012-01-14T20:06:00.004-05:00

It's feeling like a writing life again.

My life has always been a writing life, but there have been days -- seasons, weeks, months, years -- when I've had to fight so hard to get the writing in there, somehow shoe-horned into the cracks and crevices of everything else that's more urgent, more practical, more necessary, that I tend to forget just how deep the writing heart goes.

All those other practical things still exist, but in the last few weeks I inexplicably feel I've made peace with two facts:

1) I may never have a season where I don't write in the cracks and crevices, so it's time to embrace that rather than complain about it and

2) I will always write.

And with the hugging to my chest of those two little truths: Bam! Suddenly I am writing and loving it, loving every drop of it, even on days when there are only drops.

Here are some things I've loved about the writing life lately:

* New notebooks.

I got four of them for Christmas. The three composition books from my friend Erin have turned into what I call my "everyday" books. Not journals exactly, but the notebooks I go to for first-moments-in-the-morning writing. I'm writing something every morning. Snippets, lists, lines. Bits of scenes. Poetry. Lots of poetry right now.

* Yes, poetry! Lots of it coming in ways big and small. Some of the best poems are the small ones. Suddenly everything seems to be food for poetry. The Duke Ellington music we're dancing to in the kitchen. The onions I'm cutting up for dinner. (Okay, lots of kitchen inspiration right now.)

* A writing friend who not only gives me composition books, but cheers me on in my writing endeavors...even in the wee small hours when I should be sleeping. So thankful for Erin, who is also committing to writing more this year (and also getting off to a wonderfully creative start). I love the ways we encourage each other in the endeavor.

* Finding a note my emerging writer-daughter had left herself on the dining room table. A scrap of paper which read something like "A good title for a Christmas story -- The Baby is the Star of the Show."

* Teaching poetry and loving how it gives me new eyes on old poems. The sweet girl is memorizing "The Lake Isle of Innisfree" by William Butler Yeats. She seems surprised by how easily she's learning it, but considering it's been on our living room wall her whole life and I used to sing it to her when she was a baby, somehow I'm not. What is surprising me...the little things that have jumped out at me as I thoughtfully peruse the lines on the lookout for things to point out to a nine year old. I've always loved the music of this poem (the reason I set it to a tune) but though I've loved it for more than twenty years, it had never dawned on me until this past week how wonderful its assonance is and just how many double-lettered words are contained in the poem, which also makes it a visual delight. Take a look: "Innisfree" itself has two n's and two e's, but there's also small, wattles, will, bee, dropping, glimmer, noon, linnet's, lapping, deep. There may be more ~ that's just off the top of my head. It's really an amazing feat, how he chooses those words and how they make music.

* Writing prompt sites. I am especially enjoying oneword and the One-Minute Writer, both perfect places to land when you're just looking for a quick burst of playful inspiration.

But best of all, I'm writing again, every day. Not just work-related things or reviews, though still doing those too. I'm working on fiction again (dare I call it a novel)? I'm writing poetry. And last week I started fleshing out what I think and hope could be a very promising non-fiction project.

Do I have any more time to write than before? Nope. But I've decided the burning in my bones and the stories calling out to me both deserve a response. Nothing in my life has really changed but me. Time, work, circumstances, stresses, joys, schedules, ministry, family life, ups and downs, laughter, tears, not enough sleep...yep, they're all still there. The only thing that's changed is that I've decided this is my year to stop wistfully wishing I could spend more time writing and instead actually do it. Even in the cracks and crevices.

And so far, I'm loving this decision.

The Unique Walk of Grief

2012-01-10T13:46:00.009-05:00

For the past few years, I've contemplated writing a January post about grief. I don't know what's made me feel more unsure -- knowing I'd need to find the courage to be vulnerable in what I say, or not wanting to unintentionally intrude on someone else's experience of grief. But...deep breath...this is the year I've decided to write the post.

Today is the 10th of January. It's an ordinary day and date and it may not have special significance to everyone, but to me, it marks a day that always has a special place in my heart. It was the due date of our first baby, a baby we lost a number of years ago when I miscarried at around week eleven of my first pregnancy.

Miscarriages are strange things. They are incredibly difficult to talk about in our culture. When they first happen, people don't know what to say to comfort you in your loss. Perhaps because the life that has been lost was so small and hidden still. After a miscarriage has happened, especially if any significant amount of time has passed, people expect you not to talk about the experience, as though it's been over so long ago that it should be well shelved in your memory and not need airing. I still sometimes feel embarrassment -- though I know I shouldn't -- when I feel a deep need to bring it up, and when tears form in my eyes when I talk about it.

Even the name is strange: to "miscarry" always sounds to me as though you just accidentally slipped or somehow made a mistake. Nothing, of course, could be farther from the truth. When my miscarriage occurred, I remember feeling more powerless than I had ever felt in my life. Everything in me longed to change what was happening in my body, what was happening to the new little life that was developing inside me. I desperately wanted to find a way to stop it from happening, and after it was over, I went through a period of time when I kept wanting to turn back time.

I think there is also a sense, on the part of many people, that the pain of a miscarriage, once it's over and done, ceases to hurt very much. Especially if you've gone on to have another baby. There's an expectation that the gift of the new child somehow completely heals over the sore places in your heart and empty hands. And there is, of course, a deep element of truth to that. Time plus grace does help heal wounds (of all sorts, not just this particular grief) and holding a whole, healthy baby assuages the maternal ache. Assuages and comforts, but never erases it. Because the life you carried was a different life, a different person. And though you never held that little one in your arms, you did carry him or her in your body...for days, weeks, sometimes months.

And you felt that person's presence. It's different for different women, of course, depending on when the miscarriage occurs. For some, a heartbeat has already been heard, and the worst moment may come when that rhythm ceases to beat its steady pulse. For others (like me) we didn't even get to hear that wonderful music. But still, the changes that occurred in my body, as it made room for that little one to grow, were palpably real. I prayed prayers for that little one. And the physical and emotional journey of the miscarriage, essentially a small labor ending in huge loss, are etched in my memory forever. Truly one of the hardest days and nights of my life, with the prayer of Psalm 121 (sent by a friend) and the prayerful songs of St. Brendan my lifeline in the wee small hours.

The grief never goes away entirely. And that too is unique for each person. The grief tends to wash over me every year in January, right around this time. I feel it coming, sometimes like a tidal wave (in hard, darker years) other years a more manageable wave but still strong and sure. I've realized that there's nothing I can do to stop its coming...that it's a natural part of who I am now, like my hair and eye color. This grief is a piece of me and preparing for the wave is a part of what I have to do every year as the calendar turns. Some years I weather it with grace. Some years not so much. (This is, thankfully, a grace year...hence the strength to write this post.) Some years the grief is more palpable than others. I find myself thinking about the fact that I could be planning a birthday party right now, wondering how our little one would be enjoying the after-Christmas season leading up to the birthday. I find myself wondering if he (or she, but we've always had a strong feeling the baby was a he) would be like his sister.

We conceived the sweet girl just months after the loss. In the present, physical world, these two children could not have both existed -- they were too close in time. There is an absurd feeling to that for my heart sometimes, a strangeness, because I am the physical link that connects them both, and I hold them in my heart in unique ways. I cannot imagine our lives without the sweet girl, now a precious and amazingly creative 9 and 1/2. But I cannot imagine my life without the weeks I carried our other little one, who would now be turning 10. (One day, when she's ready -- she's not yet -- I'll share about all this with her. And I hope that will be a blessing to us both.)

My husband's grief still comes too. It hits him at a different time, around the time of the actual miscarriage itself, which came in June, right around Father's Day. Just a little more than a year or so after we lost our first little one on Father's Day, he held his daughter in his arms, and then three months later lost his own father. It all combines in a tangled web of love and loss, joy and sorrow.

There were people, even at the time of the miscarriage, who treated the loss as an ephemeral one -- as though the only real loss was the loss of our dreams about this tiny precious one (as if that wasn't crushing enough). That hurt, undeniably. I found myself not knowing how to answer their well-meaning statements. (Word to the wise: "these things happen" almost never comforts.) There were people who perhaps didn't understand my need to cry, journal, bawl my questions at God. But there were also people who awed me with their love and understanding, and who -- like the experience of the love and loss itself -- changed me forever, helped me grow in my own tenderness toward others walking this road or other kinds of grief roads. There was the dear friend who sent me the large, thick creamy white candle I still light in the baby's honor every year. There were the people who hugged me without saying anything at all. There was the friend who let me know, tentatively but truly, that he had dreamed I was expecting again (not long before I really was, a sign of hope). There was the woman at church I barely knew who almost brought me to my knees when she let me know, months down the road, that she had prayed for me every single day of the original pregnancy, even after we lost the baby.

The love of those people is one of the main reasons I've wanted to write this post for the past decade. They are the ones who showed me, through God's grace and through very simple acts of kindness, that we really can respect one another's unique roads of grief and walk each other through them. They were the ones who helped me to accept that my own grief is just a part of who I am, and will stay with me in some form for the rest of my life. But that the grief doesn't have to be an enemy, or something I need feel ashamed of. It's helped shape who I am. And it's not the only thing that shapes me. There were the very real eleven weeks of joy I experienced in carrying that tiny, hidden little one inside me, the privilege of carrying my baby for the very short season of that little one's earthly life.

Joy and grief both shape us. And they never fully leave us.

Poetry Friday: The Wise Men by G.K. Chesterton

2012-01-06T12:36:00.002-05:00

It's been a while since I've been able to participate in Poetry Friday, but Epiphany has me inspired today. I wrote an Epiphany poem this morning (still very much in rough draft) that I felt pretty good about until I read this stunning masterpiece by G.K. Chesterton.

Actually I'm kidding about how the Chesterton poem made me feel. Great art, while it may make our own art look a little pale and wobbly in contrast, does not diminish us. It expands and enriches and nourishes us -- all words I would definitely apply to how this poem affected me this morning. And in the end, a great poem that inspires me so deeply when I read it can only have a good influence on my own poetry-making. I know when I go back to that rough draft, I will have a whole other layer of imaginative humus to grow the poem in.

I do love this poem.

The Wise Men
~by G.K. Chesterton

Step softly, under snow or rain,
To find the place where men can pray;
The way is all so very plain
That we may lose the way.

Oh, we have learnt to peer and pore
On tortured puzzles from our youth,
We know all the labyrinthine lore,
We are the three wise men of yore,
And we know all things but truth.

...The rest of the poem can be found here. And the Poetry Friday roundup today is at Teaching Authors .

"Temper My Intemperance" (Madeleine L'Engle)

2012-01-02T18:08:00.003-05:00

The new year finds me reading old poetry, especially poetry that's been part of my heart for a long while. I recently picked up a library copy of The Ordering of Love, the 2005 collection of Madeleine L'Engle's poetry that included some of her best poems from volumes ranging from the 1960s through the 1980s, with new poems from both the 1960s and the 1990s. While I have some of the original L'Engle poetry books on my shelves, it's been lovely to read at this compact, beautiful volume, to discover the new poems, and to realize anew what a deep part of my life most of the old ones already are.

Today I needed this one, an old favorite from her book The Weather of the Heart, originally published in 1978:

Temper my intemperance, O Lord,
O hallowed, O adored,
My heart's creator, mighty, wild,
Temper Thy bewildered child.
Blaze my eye and blast my ear,
Let me never fear to fear
Nor forget what I have heard,
Even your voice, my Lord,
Even your Word.

*************

New Year Blessings!

Drawing and Writing

2011-12-29T15:11:00.004-05:00

I've been wondering a lot this past year about the creative connections (brain-wise) between drawing and writing. I tend to write every day in some capacity, but I don't often take the time to draw. But during the last school year, the sweet girl and I took time every week to draw together, first utilizing Drawing with Children by Mona Brookes (a book I would highly recommend for people of all ages) and then just "free-drawing," often copying pictures from book illustrations.

The result was astonishing for me. The sweet girl had a boldness and freedom in drawing right away, a boldness I lacked (inhibited as I was by decades worth of no-practice, of cautious drawing and insecurities) but I gained confidence as the months went on. Although we've not been able to work drawing into our curriculum nearly as much this school year, we still make drawing time whenever we can, and we both (oh joy!) got beautiful new art supplies for Christmas.

What I've discovered, besides a real love of drawing for its own sake, is that drawing often seems to fire up the creative synapses in my brain. If there's time, I almost always follow up a drawing session with a bit of writing, not because I think I have to, but because one activity seems to flow naturally from the other. I write better -- I make more interesting connections with words, I play more -- if I'm warmed up first with drawing.

It's been a fascinating discovery, one that I wish I could spend more time thinking about, or even better, actually engaging in. For now, I'm discovering that drawing can also help me as I work on longer bits of fiction. In the waning days of 2011, I've found a sudden bit of fiction writing fire in my bones I haven't felt in a long time. In the past few weeks, in spite of tiredness, holiday busyness, and end of semester grading, I've dived back into a WIP (work in progress) that is essentially a fairy-tale/fantasy.

What's been helping me when I start to feel stuck? Drawing the characters, and most specifically styling their hair and creating costumes for them. For the latter inspiration, I'm hugely indebted to The Chronicles of Western Fashion, a library book D. brought home a few months ago when the art camp kids were working on costume design. We've checked it out abundant times since, and just this past week, it inspired me to create an important character in my story -- a queen I was having a hard time picturing. Picturing her with words is going to be much easier now that I've taken colored pencils in hand and drawn her likeness. It's so much easier to imagine how she she carries her head, the color of her eyes, the sound of the swish of her dress as she walks, now that I've drawn her.

Happy St. John's Day!

2011-12-27T15:41:00.005-05:00

I love that the church, in all her wisdom, decreed so many feast days during the 12 days of Christmas. I also love that Christmas has 12 days and is a season. So much of the world seems ready to put Christmas away with the wrapping paper scraps and head back to work as usual. While the "work as usual" part can't be helped for some of us, knowing that Christmas is a whole, hallowed season somehow helps to infuse these still dark-outside days (it just keeps raining here!) with light and hope. Our commemoration of the Savior's birth is just the beginning -- now comes the 'real work of Christmas' -- to nourish that new life in ourselves, in others, and in the world.

And who better to sing to us in these dark, waning days of the year than John the Apostle, whose feast day we observe today?

"The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood. We saw the glory with our own eyes, the one-of-a-kind glory, like Father, like Son, generous inside and out, true from start to finish." John 1:14

"This is how we've come to understand and experience love: Christ sacrificed his life for us. This is why we ought to live sacrificially for our fellow believers, and not just be out for ourselves." 1 John 3:16

"What marvelous love the Father has extended to us! Just look at it - we're called children of God! That's who we really are." 1 John 3:1a

"The Life-Light blazed out of the darkness; the darkness couldn't put it out." John 1:5

"I saw Heaven and earth new-created. Gone the first Heaven, gone the first earth, gone the sea. I saw Holy Jerusalem, new-created, descending resplendent out of Heaven, as ready for God as a bride for her husband. I heard a voice thunder from the Throne: "Look! Look! God has moved into the neighborhood, making his home with men and women! They're his people, he's their God. He'll wipe every tear from their eyes. Death is gone for good - tears gone, crying gone, pain gone - all the first order of things gone"...The City doesn't need sun or moon for light. God's Glory is its light, the Lamb its lamp!" Revelation 21:1-4, 23

(All Scripture quotations taken from The Message)

Hark! The Herald Angels Sing

2011-12-25T15:56:00.002-05:00

A blessed Christmas to all!

Here's the wonderful hymn from Charles Wesley, one of my favorite bards of Christmas...

Hark! The herald angels sing,
“Glory to the newborn King;
Peace on earth, and mercy mild,
God and sinners reconciled!”
Joyful, all ye nations rise,
Join the triumph of the skies;
With th’angelic host proclaim,
“Christ is born in Bethlehem!”

Hark! the herald angels sing,
“Glory to the newborn King!”

Christ, by highest Heav’n adored;
Christ the everlasting Lord;
Late in time, behold Him come,
Offspring of a virgin’s womb.
Veiled in flesh the Godhead see;
Hail th’incarnate Deity,
Pleased with us in flesh to dwell,
Jesus our Emmanuel.

Hail the heav’nly Prince of Peace!
Hail the Sun of Righteousness!
Light and life to all He brings,
Ris’n with healing in His wings.
Mild He lays His glory by,
Born that man no more may die.
Born to raise the sons of earth,
Born to give them second birth.

Come, Desire of nations, come,
Fix in us Thy humble home;
Rise, the woman’s conqu’ring Seed,
Bruise in us the serpent’s head.
Now display Thy saving power,
Ruined nature now restore;
Now in mystic union join
Thine to ours, and ours to Thine.

Adam’s likeness, Lord, efface,
Stamp Thine image in its place:
Second Adam from above,
Reinstate us in Thy love.
Let us Thee, though lost, regain,
Thee, the Life, the inner man:
O, to all Thyself impart,
Formed in each believing heart.

Happy Birthday, Jane Austen!

2011-12-16T12:31:00.005-05:00

It's the anniversary of the birth of Jane Austen, born this day in 1775. That makes her just a teensy bit older than the United States. She's looking good for 236!

In honor of the day, I thought I would post this link to a funny piece I wrote back in 2008. I had just heard the news that they were making Pride and Prejudice into a musical, and my brain went into overdrive. I came up with potential musical numbers for the first half of P&P. It was a very fun exercise, though somehow I never ventured to do the second half. The title of Mr. Bennet's solo "I've Grown Accustomed to Her Nerves" might give you some idea of the tenor of the piece. Enjoy!

I'd also love hearing from any Austen fans out there today - what's your favorite of her six novels (and why, if you're so inclined to share)? And what's your favorite film adaptation?

My favorite of the novels changes every so often, but Persuasion is the reigning favorite. I think I love it for how different it is from anything else she wrote -- it's about a second chance at love rather than first love. And its gentle, autumnal tone seems to suit that theme of love renewed and Anne Elliot's personality so well.

I am still an unabashed fan of the Colin Firth/Jennifer Ehle mini-series version of Pride and Prejudice (1995). My favorite feature length adaptation is still the Ang Lee/Emma Thompson Sense and Sensibility (also 1995...a really good year for Austen films in my opinion)!

Favorite Christmas Books: 24 Days Before Christmas

2011-12-15T14:21:00.006-05:00

Today the sweet girl asked me if we could start The Twenty-Four Days Before Christmas. Reading this classic book by Madeleine L'Engle has been a family tradition with me before I ever had my own family (I started reading it yearly before I got married, and that's been almost twenty years now!). I don't think the sweet girl can remember a year without it. Some years, like this one, we read it in a few installments over the space of a few days; other years we've read it in the car during Christmas travels.

I love this book for all sorts of reasons, not least of which is Vicky's narration. Vicky is quite possibly my favorite character in all of L'Engle's canon...she's certainly the one I relate to the most. Here we see her at the youngest age she ever appears in Madeleine's body of work. As I wrote when I reviewed the book seven years ago:

"Vicky makes a precocious seven year old narrator. L'Engle occasionally seems to give her a too "adult" kind of tone/reasoning...but readers familiar with the older Vicky can forgive this a bit, and I think even other readers will find her endearing. A lot of us have known very smart seven year olds (and even younger children) who surprise us with the intensity of their questions and the profundity of their thoughts. What feels perfectly natural about her narration is the undertone of anxiety shot through the joyful anticipation. What if she goofs up her part as an angel in the Christmas pageant? (She overhears the director say she's awkward, and spends much of the rest of the story walking around the house with an encyclopedia on her head, trying to improve her grace and poise.) Worse yet, what if the baby decides to come early and her mother ends up in the hospital for Christmas?"

This is also a lovely book to share with families who may not yet be all that familiar with Advent traditions. The Austin family, in their usual amazing way, manages to find something special to do every single day of December, something that gives them an opportunity to be together and to celebrate the joy of Christ's coming.

And fans of the Austin series of books (Meet the Austins, The Moon by Night, The Young Unicorns, A Ring of Endless Light, Troubling a Star, with two shorter books along with this one, A Full House and The Anti-Muffins) will love 24 Days because it gives us a glimpse of Rob's entrance into the world.

The edition pictured above is the one we have and love, with pictures by Joe DeVelasco. The latest edition, still in print, has a bright red cover with a Christmas tree on it and pictures by Jill Weber.

Pageant Ponderings

2011-12-12T14:32:00.003-05:00

Every year about this time, I start to ponder the wonder of the Christmas story anew -- and through the lens of our church pageant.

This year we're fully in charge of the pageant, and so spent our Sunday School time yesterday getting the kids into their costumes, setting up the scenes they'll be acting out while I and two of our teenage assistants narrate the story. My husband (good director that he is) helped the kids work out simple blocking, and he and I both tried to help the kids think through some of their responses ("When the angel appears, try to look really scared! Terrific! Great! Oh, you look really scared! Then when you hear the words 'great joy' start looking happy! Remember, this is GOOD NEWS!").

It occurred to me yesterday that people not familiar with the tradition of Christmas pageants could have some perplexed reactions if they stumbled upon our little troupe of robed elementary and preschool actors giggling through their roles. One response might be surprise that such young children are acting out a story with such serious (and in many ways adult) elements.

After all, this is a story about an unwed pregnant teenager mother traveling wearily, along with her fiancee, to a town where they're going to be counted so they can be taxed by an oppressive government. And they can't find a place to sleep, so they have to go -- "to a barn!" as one of the kids kept saying. And it's there that the young woman gives birth to her baby. Then a bunch of crazy, scraggly shepherds show up, hopeful and amazed, because they've seen a sky full of angels announcing that this poor baby wrapped up in rags is actually the Savior of the world.

I could see how some people might say the story is too grown-up for children. Or perhaps (in another similar reaction) too serious to be play-acted. I could see how people not familiar with the heart of the story (or the heart of the author of the story) might wonder if we were not taking it seriously enough, or think we were attempting to tame its wildness and wonder. They might look a little askance at four and five year old shepherds quaking in fear as my gangly nine year old, dressed in white (with a sparkly sash) waves her arms and beams, towering over them, or at the little eight year old girl dressed in blue, pretending to wash dishes and dropping one in surprise when the angel shows up to tell her she's conceived a baby. (Does it help to remember that Mary was probably only a few years older than this?) They might wonder what we're doing, asking children to enter into this very holy story about very real and sometimes gritty things.

But that is the wildness and wonder of the whole thing -- that we're all asked to enter into it, and that we're all children in the face of this incredible reality, this amazing love, this tremendous story. None of our celebrations, none of our actings out of the story, will ever come close to capturing its wonder and essence -- but we still enter it, year after year, doing our fumbling best. Because we need to and long to. Because we want to find our place in it and learn to live the story out. Because it is at the fountain of this story that we drink life.

And I sometimes think it is the simplest, youngest, most innocent, homemade renditions of that story that come closest to the edges of the real event -- earthy and poor and homemade as it was. This is, after all, the story of the birth of a baby, a tiny precious baby. That the baby is God wrapped in rags and cradled by a young, tired mother in a barn is so gloriously preposterous that it needs the wholehearted trusting faith of a child to even be approached. Christmas pageants give us this opportunity -- to enter in as children, to enter in with children, to enter in before the Child himself. We know the Child grows up; we know the holy life he will live and the pain he will endure on our behalf and the death he will die for us. But we cannot get to that part of the story without this part, this plain and simple earthly beginning embroidered around all its rough-hewn edges with angel song. We need to hear it, again and again, and walk into it over and over.

Gregory the Great was right. The Gospel is shallow enough for a lamb to wade in and deep enough for an elephant to swim. So I'm thankful for the Christmas pageant every year. Every year it's a new chance to usher children into the story, to walk with them as they leave the shore and head into the wild waters of the gospel, to give them waterwings and hold their hands as they learn to float, to teach them how to wade. And every year it's a chance for me to sink deeper, to swim farther, to stay longer in and farther out, knowing I will never ever exhaust the depth of this story no matter how long I live or how many times I move into its beautiful, rushing, life-giving current.

Two Christmas Picture Books

2011-12-09T00:04:00.004-05:00

I'm tired. It's December and it's cold. It's near the end of the semester. And it's Advent (oh blessed season, I am so thankful it comes every year without fail, even when I'm not ready for it) and I am finding myself craving more time to read, write, think and pray.

Blog posts march through my mind often. Sometimes I begin mentally composing. Sometimes I begin actually composing as the abandoned drafts in my folder could attest. I've got a lot of things I'd love to reflect on here, including Advent thoughts and gratitude reflections. But for now they will have to keep percolating.

I did want to share briefly about two beautiful "new to us" picture books we've read this week. Yes, I know, the sweet girl is nine...no longer prime picture book age. But I think she will always love picture books, and certainly I've never stopped!

The two books we've especially loved this week are Patricia Palacco's Christmas Tapestry and Susan Wojciechowski and P.J. Lynch's The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey. Both books are beautifully told tales of miracles and hope at Christmas time. Palacco matches her masterful story-telling with her usual colorful, expressive pictures -- and took the story in a direction I wasn't expecting at all. I never seem to be able to get through one of her books without good, cleansing tears. Jonathan Toomey has a lovely storytelling cadence and absolutely luminous pictures by P.J. Lynch -- I do love his work.

Longer reviews of both books coming, I hope, but for now I just had to share how much we loved them both. Perhaps another post will begin percolating...about some of our "old favorite" Christmas picture books!

Imogene Herdman

2011-12-04T23:56:00.003-05:00

When it comes to Christmas books, it doesn't get much better than The Best Christmas Pageant Ever. Tonight we finished reading it...the sweet girl's first time through, and my hundred and umpteenth. (I still have my Weekly Reader copy from the 1970s...I've loved this book a long time!)

I was going to post all about why I love the book, and why I can't read the final scenes with Imogene Herdman without crying, but then I remembered that I'd written about this book here a few years ago. I went searching and found the 5+ year old post, and I thought I'd excerpt a bit of it here. Because some things never change, including the rush of wonder this book gives me every time I read it. What a delight to share it with my daughter.

Here's the old post, in part.

*****

I think it's one of my favorite moments in any Christmas story -- and I love a lot of Christmas stories.

Imogene Herdman was crying.

In the candlelight her face was all shiny with tears and she didn't even bother to wipe them away. She just sat there -- awful old Imogene -- in her crookedy veil, crying and crying and crying.

Well. It was the best Christmas pageant we ever had.

What's so wonderful about this scene, aside from its good storytelling sense, is that I think most of us have some Imogene Herdman in us. If we're honest, some of us have Imogene Herdman moments -- or days -- or perhaps even years. We know what it's like to be clumsy and broken, to not fit in anywhere, to have to take care of other people when sometimes we'd love if it people would take care of us for a change. We hide our insecurities behind bravado, sometimes irreverence, maybe even a touch of bullying.

And then comes that moment -- sometimes in the footlights, sometimes in the covers of a story, sometimes just in the quiet of our own heart -- when the wonder of God's love for us alights on our head like a beautiful bird. It comes home to us how much God loves us, awful old us, dressed up in our crookedy costumes, pretending to be someone we know we're not. That love washes over us like a flood, and in that moment we know who we are because we finally know whose we are.

And that's grace.

********

For Louisa, Jack, and Madeleine... (Literary Day of Days)

2011-11-29T21:57:00.004-05:00

It's my favorite literary day of the year: the anniversary of the birth of three of the deepest writers of my heart. Louisa May Alcott was born on this day in 1832, Clive Staples (Jack) Lewis in 1898, and Madeleine L'Engle in 1918. What an amazing gift it is to be able to celebrate all three of them on the same day!

I fell in love with all three of these writers when I was very young and my love for them has continued over the years, though it's taken different shape in different seasons. As I pondered today all the profound ways they have influenced me through the years -- far too many ways to count -- it occurred to me that even if each had only graced the world with a fraction of what they wrote, I still would feel grateful. Playing on that idea, I wrote this poem in tribute to them, and in tribute to three of their characters who have been my special friends.

For Louisa, Jack and Madeleine

It would have been enough to give us Jo –

Tree climber, boot stomper, apple muncher,
Snow thrower, writer of tales.
In the mirror of pages across the ages,
We still see the ink stain on her finger,
The scorch on her dress, the wild, rumpled hair.
We hear her tears in the garret,
Mingled with rain, and know
the soft, satin feel of the ribbon
tied round her stories.

It would have been enough to give us Lucy –

Door opener, truth teller, faun friend,
merry queen, lion-hearted girl.
In the mirror of pages across the ages,
We still see the flask of healing cordial,
The white-winged albatross, snowflakes
Glittering in the lamppost light.
We hear her muffled tears the night
The world seemed to end, and know
the soft, tangled tresses of the wild lion’s mane
wrapped round her fingers.

It would have been enough to give us Meg –

Problem solver, hand holder, cocoa maker,
namer, friend of cherubim.
In the mirror of pages across the ages,
We still see glasses slip in the moonlight,
Dragon scales in a dripping garden,
A bright quilt in a wind-rocked attic room.
We hear her tears of relief as she clutches
Her rescued brother, and know
the soft, small boy feel of his hair
pressed close to her cheek.

~EMP, 11-29-11

A Gracious Slip of the Tongue

2011-11-28T10:56:00.001-05:00

Sometimes slips of the tongue -- especially when done by kids -- can be downright funny. Other times they feel a little profound.

The sweet girl has been working on memorizing Psalm 103 this fall, doing a little more each week. She has an excellent memory and for the most part it's been smooth sailing. But for the past couple of weeks, whenever we get to these lines she's stumbled a bit:

The LORD is compassionate and gracious,
Slow to anger and abounding in lovingkindness.

The stumble has been linguistic ~ and it's also been lovely. What she keeps wanting to say is "The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger and a fountain of lovingkindness."

I love the way "abounding" and "fountain" play so musically together. And how I keep picturing the Lord's lovingkindness now, surging up in an abounding fountain of goodness and grace and mercy that just keeps flowing and flowing and flowing. No wonder our little cups can't possibly contain it!

First Sunday of Advent (and More Advent Reading)

2011-11-27T15:54:00.007-05:00

"...our whole life is an Advent season, that is, a season of waiting for the last Advent, for the time when there will be a new heaven and a new earth."

This is just one of many beautiful and ponder-worthy quotes from God is in the Manger: Reflections on Advent and Christmas, a lovely collection of Advent meditations culled from Dietrich Bonhoeffer's letters and sermons. Highly recommended reading this Advent season and on into Christmas (the final daily reflection is for Epiphany).

Happy Birthday, Robert Louis Stevenson

2011-11-13T21:23:00.004-05:00

It's the birthday of the wonderful Scottish poet Robert Louis Stevenson (November 13, 1850-December 3, 1894). He is one of the poets I have loved the longest.

Stevenson came from a long line of lighthouse engineers but decided that life was not for him. He became a novelist and poet instead, and the world is a richer place for that decision.

A few years ago I wrote this poem that enters, via imagination, his vocational choice. I thought I'd post it today in honor of his birthday. He's certainly kept lights burning for so many!

Keep the light burning, Louis –
let it shine 'cross the sea.
Let it guide travelers tossed,
said my family to me.

They imagined me keeping
traditions long kept,
they imagined me living
on rocks wild, wind-swept.

Sea runs in my veins
and I love the wind’s song
but to that kind of life
I don’t quite belong.

I need paper and pens,
poems and stories to be
a strong man who shines
a bright light on the sea.

See my words? They are beacons
and paths and a port,
they are helps in great storms
and lights of a sort.

Though faith and deep joy
aren’t easy to measure,
They’re my way of keeping
traditions long treasured.

~EMP (2008)

Jessica Powers: Creature of God

2011-11-12T23:50:00.004-05:00

One of the poets of my heart is Jessica Powers (1905-1988) a Carmelite nun whose beautiful, prayerful poems are rich in evocative imagery. They remind me a good bit of George Herbert's poems though they are also wildly and wonderfully unique.

If you'll forgive the pun, Powers often speaks powerfully to my heart. I go back often to my dog-eared copy of her collected poems. Even when I haven't visited the book in a while, something will trigger a memory of a line or an image and I find myself back there again.

Last night such a trigger came when I found myself musing, in a tired way, about my own finiteness. Not in the ultimate sense, but in the ordinary, daily grind kind of way. I think the way I expressed it to a friend was that lately I keep feeling like I'm going THUMP against the walls of my finiteness, my limitations, wherever I turn.

And then I remembered Jessica Power's poem "Creature of God." And I remembered that even on those days when I seem to be running into walls left and right, I can go to God...just as I am, finite, limited, broken and all...and stand bathed in the vastness of his love and grace. He meets me there. It's there that he gathers me into his arms.

Creature of God

That God stands tall, incomprehensible,
infinite and immutable and free,
I know. Yet more I marvel that His call
trickles and thunders down through space to me;

that from His far eternities He shouts
to me, one small inconsequence of day.
I kneel down in the vastness of His love,
cover myself with creaturehood and pray.

God likes me covered with my creaturehood
and with my limits spread across His face.
He likes to see me lifting to His eyes
even the wretchedness that dropped His grace.

I make no guess what greatness took me in,
I only know, and relish it as good,
that I am gathered more to God's embrace
the more I greet Him through my creaturehood.

~Jessica Powers

True Confessions

2011-11-10T22:27:00.000-05:00

The other day I noticed that the sweet girl was re-reading Sarah, Plain and Tall. (Yes, I'm proudly raising a re-reader!) I smiled and said something like "Oh sweetie, it's fun to see you reading that book again. You've loved it for a long time."

She grinned and agreed. And then she gave a mirthful little chuckle. "You know something, Mommy?" she asked. "The first time you read this book to me, when I was about five, I thought it was about three people named Sarah, Plain, and Tall."

The Week in Review (7): Awash in the Victorian Era (Sherlock Holmes, Secret Garden, Emily Dickinson and More)

2011-11-07T10:07:00.005-05:00

If you read my last post, you'll be all prepped for the ongoing "week in review" posts which I hope to start putting here regularly again. You'll also know this one is cheating a bit, since I'm actually catching up on most of the month of October and just putting it all here. Here are some of the choice picks from the month gathered in one place.

My review for the banned-books write-off this year was of John Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men. Not the first time I'd read the book, but it had been a lot of years. Still just as powerful -- and disturbing -- as I remembered.

The sweet girl and I continued to wend our way through the Civil War and Lincoln. Two good reads for the elementary age crowd, the chapter book My Brother's Keeper and the picture book Lincoln Tells a Joke. My Brother's Keeper is by Mary Pope Osborne of Magic Treehouse Fame. It's a fictional diary by a nine year old girl living in Gettysburg at the time of the battle. Lincoln Tells a Joke is a lively, clever (but still respectful) picture book biography of our sixteenth president. Wonderful illustrations.

I don't write many reviews in travel, but from time to time I'll review an historic site we've visited. We loved our visit to the Frick Estate in Pittsburgh (thanks to the free RAD Days in October) which includes a Victorian era home, car & carriage museum, and art museum. Here's my enthusiastic take on the Frick Car and Carriage Museum.

My fascination with all things Emily continues. We enjoyed Jane Yolen's picture book My Uncle Emily. This was one of those books that I discovered I liked even more than I realized when I sat down to review it. Sometimes the careful looking and thinking you do about a book when you review it helps you uncover things you missed the first time through when you just approached it as a reader ready to enjoy.

Just in time for the sequel (which I know I won't see in the theater anyway) we finally watched and enjoyed the "new" Sherlock Holmes film. Ahem...new meaning it came out in 2009. Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law give great performances in this oddly contemporary telling of Sherlock Holmes -- still set in Victorian Era London, but not quite the Holmes and Watson you're used to. I liked it a lot.

Even in our family read-alouds we kept up the Victorian theme. Two classics during October, both lovely: Frances Hodgson Burnett's The Secret Garden and the Mowgli Stories from Rudyard Kipling's Jungle Book. Nicola Bayley's illustrations in the Candlewick Press edition (the one I reviewed) are stunning.

Why Write Book Reviews? And Why Post Review Links?

2011-11-03T10:58:00.007-04:00

For those of you still hanging in there and reading my blog, you might be wondering where my regular "Week in Review" posts have gone. For that matter, you might have been wondering why I started posting those in the first place! I thought a post regarding my book/film reviews and my attempts to link to them here might be in order.

First off, I became a reviewer almost by "accident". I've always enjoyed writing about what I'm reading, watching, listening to, but it wasn't until spring of 2003 that I stumbled onto an online platform where I began writing reviews regularly. The sweet girl was just a baby then, and I was looking for some way to keep my writing muscles in shape during her frequent but short naps. (I couldn't resist posting a picture from that season of our lives...)

I found the website Epinions while looking for reviews of children's books. This was before I'd discovered blogs and the kidlitosphere! At that point, it seemed that nowhere I looked online had quite the kinds of reviews I wanted to read (as a writer and a parent). When I realized that Epinions gave people the opportunity to write and post their own reviews, it dawned on me that perhaps I could be writing the kinds of reviews I wanted to read.

I never expected that almost nine years later I'd still be writing reviews. I've written many other things since, but review writing gets in your blood. Over a thousand reviews later, I still find I have lots to say about what I'm reading, watching, listening to...and it's fun to try to find fresh ways to say it.

I've also thoroughly enjoyed the Epinions community. (I found one of my best friends there!) Beyond that, I've had good exchanges with writers of all sorts. There are many kind, thoughtful people writing there. Like any website of its kind, the writing quality varies dramatically on Epinions. With so much content, some of it is going to be sub-par but a good percentage of it is solid and some of it is really brilliant.

What's also fun when you read a body of reviews from a relatively small number of people over time is that you begin to learn about particular passions. Because of Epinions, I've learned new things about gardening, guitar playing, foreign films, cozy mysteries, superheroes, classical music, and a host of other (sometimes fascinatingly obscure) topics. I particularly like it when writers get really excited about other writers. We have one book review writer on Epinions, a retired gentleman, who has the lovely habit of reading through a given writer exhaustively over a period of about a year -- and posts reviews of everything he reads by and about that writer for others' edification/learning. He and I have had email conversations about all sorts of writers, including Kipling and James Fenimore Cooper.

I do earn income, of a sort, from my reviews on Epinions. It is not a lucrative business, review writing for general interest online venues (where the greatest number of visitors are likely to be looking for information on vacuum cleaners and digital cameras rather than wanting to read about The Great Gatsby or Anne of Green Gables). When you click on one of my review links here, it will take you to my review on the Epinions site. I do *not* earn money just because you click on the link. However, the number of outside visitors (meaning non-members of the site) to my reviews do help establish my readership and factor into what I earn via monthly income share. If you're patient and keep writing (and reading and rating and commenting on other writers' reviews) then eventually one does begin to earn something helpful on the site. The laborer is worthy of her hire, and I'm thankful that I've been able to earn enough through my review writing to cover most of our homeschool books and curriculum so far. Given our family's current needs, and our ongoing commitment to ministry in a small, poor, urban community, my writing income is an important part of our livelihood. In fact, I would love to have my writing income, here and elsewhere, grow. I appreciate prayers to that end!

The main benefit from clicking on my review links, from my perspective (and I hope your's) is that I get to share with you about something I enjoy. Most of my reviews are of books (and movies and music) that I truly loved or at least greatly liked. I will sometimes write reviews that "pan" something, but that's very rare. Mostly I try hard to craft reviews that will inform and encourage. Though I review books of all sorts, the bulk of my content is still centered on children's books. I'm still trying to craft the kinds of reviews that I wanted to read as a new parent. I love sharing about living literature, books that teach and challenge and inspire both me and my daughter. I sometimes post favorite book lists or essays about books, and I even do an occasional series, each year, of books we're using to supplement our homeschool history studies. Lately I've been writing more about books we use in our art studies too.

So there you have it. A post about why I write reviews, and a little bit about why I've been posting links to my reviews here more regularly. I've gotten behind on that lately and will probably do a "week in review" post that will actually have most of my links from the month of October (a busy month for me, hence not a very prolific review writing month). Then I can start fresh with posting weekly in November again. At least that's my hope.

************

One more note: if this has sparked your interest in the possibility of writing for Epinions, let me know. The site has been going through some growing pains (good ones, we hope) and recent upgrades, and they're beginning to more actively seek new writers. If you decide you'd like to check them out and maybe even sign up, please leave me a comment. If you go through me, I'll get a small referral fee.

Brick by Brick...

2011-11-03T00:52:00.003-04:00

I've not meant to disappear from my blog. I miss writing here, but the past several weeks have been a rather long slog of stress and exhaustion on so many levels.

In the midst of all that, however, there has been blessing. Lots of it. So much of it that I should probably do a big gratitude post (which I'm way overdue to write anyway). But for now I just have to share one lovely thing.

My dad finished laying the bricks on the back patio today. This is at my parents' home in Virginia, the house where I grew up. They've always had a small red brick patio. A few years ago they had to have some work done on their sewage lines or something and a lot of the patio had to be dug up. My dad, always the craftsman and hard worker, set out to lay the bricks back himself. He was in the midst of the project in April 2010 when he went into the hospital with congestive heart failure.

It's strange sometimes how something can become so symbolic. For my dad, that patio seemed to represent something big that was left undone. As he lay in the hospital, very ill (with doctors telling us he might not live more than another couple of months) he fretted about the patio. He wanted to finish it. It became both a struggle in his mind (you could see that sometimes) and also a tangible project that he needed to hold onto with both hands as he determined to get better.

All during the following months -- eighteen of them -- as mom has lovingly cared for dad and as dad has astounded us all by his amazing recovery, dad has worked on the patio. A little at a time. Brick by brick. Five minutes here. Ten minutes there. Longer if he could manage it, sometimes driving my mother crazy because he would stay out too long and his blood pressure would drop through the floor. As he began to regain some strength, he began to do other things too, like paint my mom's portrait. (He really is amazing.) But he was determined to get that patio done.

Today Mom emailed all of her children with the news. The last brick was laid, she said. And she called it a doxology moment. Indeed. I felt like singing the doxology. So I did.

I'm so proud of my daddy I could burst. I'm proud of my mom too, who has had to learn a whole new way of encouraging and caretaking in these months.

It hurts my heart a little bit to think that we will not likely make it down to Virginia for thanksgiving this year -- our usual annual trek is likely to be off because of our continuing financial stress. I would so love to see that patio. But mostly I want to hug my dad and mom while seeing that patio! Sometimes my homesickness for them and for that little back yard in Virginia just grows acute.

But heartaches aside, today I am just smiling. Because my dad did it. Brick by brick.

Feeling Shaken

2011-10-25T16:57:00.002-04:00

This past Saturday our family utilized our gift membership and went to the Science Center downtown. Roaming its four interactive floors is always an exciting adventure for the sweet girl. This time around there were some new exhibits on the first floor so some of our old favorites had been moved. We found one, the Earthquake Café, now housed on the top level. Of course we had to sit down and let ourselves get all shook up.

The Earthquake Café is a booth made to look like a table in a diner. You get into the booth and choose, from the “menu” on the wall, which earthquake simulation you want to feel. There are a few to choose from, varying in their intensity. We let the sweet girl pick, and she chose a 7.1 variety (simulating the California earthquake from the late 1980s – remember the one that took place during the World Series)? You push the button and sit there, grinning uncertainly at each other, as the ground beneath your table begins to shift. The booth works on a levered system and gets jerked back and forth in a very realistic fashion. (I know that now, having actually experienced a small earthquake in our area a couple of months ago.)

Sitting in the Earthquake Café, I found myself realizing anew just how shaken my life has felt in recent months. Sometimes the shaking that has gone on has felt small and subtle, the way an earthquake sometimes can feel at the very beginning, or when you’re not near the epicenter. I still recall the day we did feel the ground shake here, for real, and how disorienting it was to feel that shift – but also how quickly it was all over. By the time we’d asked ourselves the questions “what’s happening?” and “what is that?” and even “did a truck just hit the building?” the motion had pretty much stopped. It was only in retrospect that we realized what we’d felt.

Life can be like that sometimes. While some “shaking” comes quickly and violently, and other shaking is more subtle and hard to define, it often seems like the ripple effect lasts a long time. People who live near the epicenter of a quake experience multiple aftershocks. Even those who don’t often find themselves so “moved” (literally and in other ways) that they need to talk about the earth-shaking experience they lived through for days to come.

Most of us, thankfully, don’t live through actual, physical earthquakes all that often (though our family prays often for those who do). But all of us live through some sort of figurative shaking in our lives. This shaking may be caused by sudden traumatic events we never expected, or by long unsettling “shaking” that seems to go on and on, with multiple small aftershocks, uprooting our sense of who we thought we were and even our sense of how steady we are. All of those things can cause mental, physical, emotional, even spiritual stress, and that can take its toll. I’ve been going through some of this sort of “shaking” in recent months and it’s exhausting. I’ve discovered that if I let it, if I focus on the things that seem to shake me most, it can make me feel alone and afraid.

As followers of Christ, however, we know that in times of shaking we can cling to something that is steady, far steadier than our usual stable (but sometimes surprisingly unstable) earth. Or rather we can cling to Someone. When our lives feel full of seismic activity, we have a person we can run to who is truly our shelter and refuge. The shaking may not always stop right away, but when you are held in the strong arms of Jesus, you’ll find that you won’t worry so much about whether you manage to stay on your feet. Because you know He will.

You’ll find the word “shaken” in the Scriptures. Sometimes it’s translated “moved.” (I still need to ask my Hebrew scholar husband to help me find the original word thus translated.)

The Psalmists love the image: “I have set the Lord always before me; because he is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken.” (Ps. 16:8) And in one of the most powerful Psalms that speaks of God as our refuge, we hear this: “He alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be greatly shaken.” (Ps. 62:2) I like the way the ESV renders that last one “not greatly shaken.” It seems to help my heart to know that the psalmist, perhaps, like me, admits to feeling some real shaking…though he knows (as I know deep down) that I am never ultimately shaken when I am sheltering in God.

And the writer of Hebrews reminds us (powerfully, in the context of speaking of the final shaking): “Therefore let us be grateful for receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, and thus let us offer to God acceptable worship, with reverence and awe…” (Heb. 12:28).

A kingdom that cannot be shaken. In the midst of unsteady days, I’ve been trying to let the reality of that wash over me. We have been loved into a kingdom that cannot be shaken, by a King whose faithfulness is always steadfast, more solid than the most solid rock we’ve ever known. It’s the writer of Hebrews who also reminds us (at the beginning of the same chapter that ends with the declaration of the unshakable kingdom) to “fix our eyes on Jesus, the author (or founder) and perfecter of our faith.” We are to fix our eyes on, to look intently and faithfully at Jesus who "endured the cross.” He endured real shaking, real pain, in order that we might know the deep, solid steadiness of his mercy and grace.

Collecting Words: Vocabulary Building the Natural Way

2011-10-12T12:39:00.005-04:00

There are a lot of vocabulary building ideas and curricula floating around the homeschool world. I've seen some of them, and even picked up a workbook for free now and again, though I don't think I've actually used one.

A couple of years ago I took a deep breath and decided that for our learning environment, it made the most sense to weave vocabulary building into the fabric of what we're already doing. Because we read. A LOT. That doesn't mean that one day I might not yet introduce a more systematic or formal approach. It also doesn't mean that I'm not intentionally fostering a love of words and a richer vocabulary. It just means that I'm trying to find a way to foster that naturally, instead of sitting my child down in front of a workbook where she has to use certain words in sentences or memorize definitions.

A lot of vocabulary is picked up by osmosis. If you read a lot, and come across certain words enough times, you will eventually pick up on their meaning. This is yet another endorsement, by the way, for encouraging re-reading. There are multiple benefits involved in revisiting a story again and again, and enhancing vocabulary is just one of them, but it's a good one.

Kids are natural collectors. They love to collect all sorts of things: cards, coins, stamps, action figures, dolls, rocks, shells. For some people, that love of collecting grows with them into adulthood. Grown-ups collect all sorts of things too, including sometimes the same things they started collecting as children. In my life, I've been particularly passionate (in different seasons) about certain collections: baseball cards, books, and small bits of green glass have been three of the biggies for me.

It dawned one me one day, a number of years ago, that I had always been a word collector. It was one reason I kept a journal. Not just to write down memories, thoughts, and feelings, or to play with bits of poems and stories, but to actually collect words. I kept lists of them. I still do. One day I came across a book called poemcrazy that inspired me to begin collecting words in even more physical ways. I started cutting words I liked from magazines and newspapers. I kept them in small jars and boxes, often along with small scraps of pictures. I still do. I went to an office supply store and bought a big roll of tickets, the "admit one" tickets you might sell at a play or movie. I started pasting words onto tickets. I called these word tickets "tickets to the imagination" and I started using them on those rare but wonderful occasions when someone would ask me to lead a writing workshop.

So you see why I began to realize a couple of years ago why vocabulary building could be a natural thing to build into our learning time. Put together my love of collecting words, our family's love of reading, and a child's natural curiosity and propensity to collect -- and you've got the potential blocks for a towering vocabulary.

This year I made the sweet girl a word book. You could easily create this from any notebook or just from stapling together notebook paper. I decided it would be fun to make it as homemade as possible, so I pulled together a little notebook based on a template I found over at Donna Young's website (my favorite free printables site). The lined pages made a neat little notebook and she even provided a cover with the title "My Word Book" in flowing script. I went hunting and found an alphabet in lovely, fancy scripts. I cut out each letter and pasted them, in order, on the notebook pages, leaving extra room for the letters I thought might get used most often. At the beginning of the school year, I gave it to the sweet girl and showed her that we'd keep it in a purple folder along with her list of independent reading. The word book and reading list stay next to our DK Merriam-Webster Children's Dictionary.

Now that she has a place to "collect" words, the sweet girl is enthusiastic about doing so. (We did this last year too, in third grade, just in a composition book. It worked well and got the idea rolling, but it's snowballed this year and is really taking off now that she has this little word book to tuck her findings inside.) I've encouraged her to ask about words she comes across when she's reading or when we're reading together. If she doesn't know what it means, we look it up and it goes into the word book.

There are weeks when not much goes into the book. We can have days when we both forget it. But then words will pop up all over the place. "What does that mean?" and "Remember when we were reading so and so and we heard that word?" have become more frequent parts of conversation. She's eager to get to the dictionary (even when it sometimes fails us, as I'm discovering even a very good children's dictionary can do with certain complex or old-fashioned words of the type we come across in older literature...thank heavens for online dictionaries!) and she loves to write them down in her homemade-but-kind-of fancy word book. Just this morning three more words went into the word book: visage, sporadically, and aggravated. Visage came from Percy Bysshe Shelley's poem "Ozymandias" which she's been memorizing. (Sometime I want to devote a whole post to the joys and benefits of poetry memorization!) The other two came in a review lesson in our grammar book.

I share these thoughts, not to disparage any of the more formal programs out there that teach/increase vocabulary in more systematic ways, but rather to share that I think it can be done, especially in the early learning years, in ways that are simple, organic, pleasurable, and that ignite a love of both the sounds and meanings of words.

The Week in Review (6): Patricia Polacco; Shakespeare Meets Marvel Comics; Narnia Code

2011-10-11T12:36:00.007-04:00

Hmm...the last week of September was an odd reviewing week. Three movies, completely different from one another, and a Civil War picture book that made me cry.

The Narnia Code is an hour-long documentary based on Michael Ward's literary theory regarding C.S. Lewis' use of medieval cosmology in the Chronicles of Narnia. It provides a great introduction to his ideas, which are unpacked at length and with great scholarly elegance in the book Planet Narnia.

Thor is a totally enjoyable (and action-packed!) feature film based on the comic book character Thor, a sort of Norse god/superhero. The particularly fun twist is that this summer blockbuster kind of movie was directed by Kenneth Branagh, the director who has brought us Shakespearean delights for years. Shakespeare meets Marvel Comics. And it works.

Soul Surfer is an inspirational film based on the true story of Bethany Hamilton, a young surfer who lost her left arm to a shark, survived, and went on to become the world's best woman surfer. The movie asks good questions and walks a lot of potentially cliched lines without falling off any of them entirely. Not a great film, but a solidly good one, with the real story of the young girl's courage shining through some inspired performances.

I don't often cry my way through picture books, but that's what happened when I read Patricia Polacco's Pink and Say. There is a power and beauty to this simple story of the friendship that developed between two young men, one black and one white, who found one another in the midst of the chaos and pain of the Civil War. It's a story of heroism and courage, and it's brought home the Civil War to my nine year old in real and moving ways. The fact that it turns out to be a true story -- a story passed down in Polacco's family for several generations (Say was her great-great grandfather) adds even more powerful punch to the tale.

Loving Lincoln

2011-10-06T12:43:00.004-04:00

The sweet girl and I have been wending our way through a study of the Civil War. I'm thankful that we had a chance to attend a Civil War day back in July at the historic site near us. That gave her a great preliminary "taste" of the period, especially experiencing the costumes, tents, soldier's kits, period music, etc.

But as usual, it's been books that have carried us through. We've been particularly taken with books about Abraham Lincoln. Even though we've technically finished the unit (we've moved forward into other areas in Story of the World) we keep reading more. And I find myself wanting to read a good adult biography of Lincoln now too. Any suggestions welcome!

Loving to read about Lincoln reminds me, of course, of one of my favorite fictional characters, Emily Webster. Emily of Deep Valley is set in 1912. Emily too loves to read about Lincoln, especially with her grandfather who fought in the Civil War. Maud Hart Lovelace never seems to tire of telling the tale of the brave Minnesota regiment at Gettysburg. Emily and her grandfather end up reading, at the recommendation of her former high school teacher Miss Fowler, "Herndon's Lincoln." If you google that, you'll discover it's an actual biography of Lincoln written in 1888. It's still available today and still garners glowing reviews from most readers. It's also, however, huge. So I've never been sure if it's where I want to start -- although I often find big ol' biographical tomes to be just the right kind of reading for winter. Hmm...a sentiment I probably originally learned from Emily Webster, but have discovered the truth of myself over the years. (Dorothy Kearns Goodwin kept me going one winter with her biography of Roosevelt.)

My list of favorite children's books about Lincoln continues to grow. This week I've added Lincoln Tells a Joke to that list -- Kathleen Krull, Paul Brewer, and illustrator Stacy Innerst's marvelous picture book biography that focuses on Lincoln's humor and down-to-earth manner. It's such a delightful fact that such a deeply profound man, living through such a sobering and heavy time, managed to stay afloat because of laughter.

My very favorite Lincoln book for children may well be Lincoln and His Boys by Rosemary Wells. I first read it when it came out in 2009 (and reviewed it here) but this week the sweet girl and I read it together. I cannot get through the final chapter without tears, whether reading silently or aloud. It manages to capture that lighthearted side of Lincoln while also perfectly capturing the heavy emotional weight he carried due to both personal and national tragedies. P.J. Lynch's illustrations in this book are just stunning.

This will likely be our year to do Little Women as a family read-aloud. The book of my childhood. I get shivers of anticipation just thinking about reading it with my husband and daughter. So our Civil War theme will stretch later into the fall and winter. We will probably not start it until around our Thanksgiving trip (if we're able to make that trip this year) as we'll have lots of time in the car that no longer has a functioning CD player. In other words, Mom gets to be the audio book! But I'm glad of it in this case. I love reading aloud, and Jo March's voice...well, it's practically part of my own.

The Week in Review (5): Schmidt's Retelling of Pilgrim's Progress; Prequelitis with Enterprise Season 1

2011-10-02T14:20:00.005-04:00

A week late is the new normal! Apparently I am destined to run a full week or more behind on posting links to my reviews. All right, maybe destined is too strong a word, but for now, this seems to be the pace that works.

Here are reviews from a week or so ago.

I finally posted my review of Gary Schmidt's lovely version of Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress. Schmdit's writing and Barry Moser's illustrations make this a wonderful book to savor. We've read it together twice this year during family devotional time. My review was actually drafted months ago, after the first time we read it, but my opinion on the story's quality hasn't changed a bit after a second time through.

A few weeks back I chatted a bit about the creative challenges of prequels. That was partly born of the fact that D and I have been wending our way through Enterprise. Enterprise has a unique place in Star Trek's history: it's the last of the Star Trek television shows to air, but the first in terms of interior Star Trek chronology. An interesting combination. Here's my review of Enterprise, Season 1, which had some bumps along the way but nevertheless drew us into the story.

And in the completely "just for fun" category, two quick reviews of things the sweet girl has enjoyed much in recent months: Bob Phillips' Awesome Knock-Knock Jokes for Kids and a lovely paper doll set made by Eboo ~ Thoughtful Girl Paper Dolls, Sasha and Jasmine.

The Week in Review (4): Alan Jacobs on the Pleasures of Reading, Coville's Hamlet, and a Newly Illustrated Velveteen Rabbit

2011-09-23T19:50:00.003-04:00

Ah. It's almost the weekend, and I realized that I never posted last week's review links. So I'm almost a week behind. (Somehow I started a post in draft and then never had a chance to go back in and edit it. Some weeks are like that!) Well, better later than never. Here's the round-up of links to my reviews from last week:

More Monet ~ in this case, a picture book entitled Monet's Impressions. Just images and words by Monet. Doesn't get much simpler than that. Or more lovely.

I finally finished my review of Alan Jacobs' interesting book The Pleasures of Reading in an Age of Distraction. Not that I was distracted or anything. A fascinating read for anyone who cares about reading and enjoys thinking about the ways our approaches to reading have changed (and are changing) as the years go by, as well as the riches of reading that never seem to change.

You might not think that readers as young as nine could enjoy Hamlet, but Bruce Coville's picture book version might prove you wrong. He interweaves his own rich prose with actual quotes from the Bard to provide a compelling version of the story. Leonid Gore's pictures also add a lot to this terrific introduction to one of Shakespeare's greatest plays.

I still love Margery Williams' The Velveteen Rabbit. The story never seems to wear out, and Gennady Spirin's gorgeous illustrations make this new picture book version (published by Marshall Cavendish) a keeper. This would make a beautiful gift book.

Poetry Friday: Edna St. Vincent Millay

2011-09-23T17:57:00.003-04:00

I'd almost forgotten how much I love the poetry of Edna St. Vincent Millay. But for the past week or so, my nine year old daughter has been memorizing "Afternoon on a Hill." Its gentle music still speaks to my heart, and I've loved discussing it with her. We've talked about the lovely alliteration of "I will look at cliffs and clouds/ with quiet eyes" (how I long for "quiet eyes"!) and we've also talked about how the speaker of the poem felt joy in the present moment as she declared "I will touch a hundred flowers/and not pick one." That's always been my favorite line ~ I love the way the narrator doesn't feel the need to possess what she's enjoying, but just lets the flowers stay free, growing right where they are.

Remembering this poem sent me looking for another old favorite by Millay. I was introduced to "Recuerdo" (the title means "Memory") through Madeleine L'Engle, who provided my introduction to so many wonderful poems through the years. I still love the whimsical, lilting quality of this poem:

"We were very tired, we were very merry --
We had gone back and forth all night upon the ferry.
It was bare and bright, and smelled like a stable --
But we looked into a fire, we leaned across a table,
We lay on the hill-top underneath the moon;
And the whistles kept blowing, and the dawn came soon."

I love the story sense in this poem. How easy it is to picture two people having such joy in each other's company that they spend the whole night just talking, riding back and forth (no destination intended) on the boat, lying on the hilltop, watching the moon give way to the sunrise. It strikes me that this poem also celebrates the practice of the present moment, the joy of living right where you are without worry about what's to come next. In the final stanza, they do start for home (as does the person on the hilltop in "Afternoon on a Hill") but they give away all their remaining fruit and all their money except what they need for subway fares. Just living simply and with gratitude in the moment, again without the urgent need to possess.

The whole poem can be found at Poetry Archive.

Today's poetry round-up can be found at Picture Book of the Day.

How Words Work

2011-09-20T16:51:00.003-04:00

I've got a handful of posts in the pipeline, but life is doing that funny thing it sometimes does...getting in the way of blogging. Imagine!

Words keep being on my mind though. The way we use them wisely, the way we don't. How they can give life and hope and spark creativity and form connections. How they can wound or trivialize. How much I need them in my life, and how much I still have to learn about crafting them and using them well.

The other day I was reading a bit from Leonard Sweet's book Aqua Church as I prepped for a discipleship group with the teen girls at church. He loves to weave quotes and bits of poems into his reflections, and I stumbled upon a stanza I'd never read but which spoke to my heart. I quoted a line from it as my FB status. A friend asked me what it was from. I told her, and she went looking for the whole poem (it was from a book published in 1900!) and posted all several beautiful, hope-filled stanzas. She's been grieving the death of her brother, and the poem touched her heart. I watched as other people commented on the poem, sensing the comfort and beauty in the words, and then I saw one of them say they were passing it on to a grieving friend.

Do you ever marvel at the way words form a web? I often think about poetry and stories as long, ongoing conversations, but sometimes that firms up in front of our eyes in unexpected ways. An author over a century ago pens a prayer poem. An author several years ago excerpts it in his book. I read the words and they touch me so I pass that on. My friend is so touched she goes looking for deeper context and more of the poem. She passes it on to someone who passes it on to someone and...more people are blessed.

This is how words work at their best. They fly like birds and blow about like leaves, like seeds. They're messages in bottles and scrawled notes in balloons (something my elementary school did once, years ago in the pre-green days...we wrote messages and then released them in balloons, waiting to see if we would hear back from those who found them).

As writers and teachers we can choose our words carefully, shape them wisely and beautifully (we hope) but ultimately we send them out there into the world. And they do their thing, connecting hearts and minds and sometimes ending up in surprising places.

Just a Few Wordplay Musings

2011-09-13T19:04:00.003-04:00

I'm drafting a review this evening, and I find myself wondering...

Isn't chock-full a real word, not just a coffee brand? And am I strange to use it? My spell checker won't take it no matter what.

Why, when I'm writing flat-out in creating/first draft mode, do I have a tendency to use one certain word over and over again?

Don't you want to know now what tonight's repeatedly used word is? Of course you do! It's musings! (And I've used it again in the title of this blog post).

Why did I have to go a thesaurus to come up with synonyms like ponderings, reflections, contemplations, speculations, cogitations, ruminations? (I had managed to come up with meditations on my own.) And have no fear, dear reader, I did not use them all in one book review. I promise.

And one last question, aren't we writers thankful for thesauruses? Or is it thesaurii? (Doesn't that sound grand? The mighty herd of thesaurii thundered over the plains...)

The Week in Review (3): Prelutsky Poems, Monet Trains, and the Final Harry Potter Film

2011-09-12T16:28:00.004-04:00

I'm late posting my round-up of review links from last week. I generally try to do it over the weekend, preferably on Saturdays. Not that I need an excuse, but my computer continues its erratic, moody behavior. I think this is yet one more way that a sweeter and more patient temperament is being nourished in the garden of my heart!

So here are the links to my reviews from last week: two picture books, and a movie everybody else saw in July. (It was worth the wait though.)

There's No Place Like School is the title of a Jack Prelutsky selected collection of poems about school. Written for the elementary age crowd, and recounting familiar school experiences and feelings any child can relate to (no matter what kind of schooling they're involved in) this is a book of fun poems with comic pictures to match. My homeschooler thoroughly enjoyed it. Two Prelutsky poems are included, but there are other great authors represented, including Kenn Nesbitt and Rebecca Kai Dotlich. This was a complimentary review copy provided to me by Greenwillow Books. Life's been pretty hectic the past few months, so I'm happy to finally have a chance to get some Greenwillow reviews up -- hopefully a few more to come soon.

The second picture book is the beautiful Claude Monet: The Painter Who Stopped the Trains. We're on a big Monet kick in our fine arts time this month, and this book is a gem. I'm slowly building a stable of reviews on fine arts resources for children and was really glad to include this one. Links in the review will take you to other reviews I've written on other Monet books and books about other impressionists.

I finally managed to see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (Part 2). It was a Labor Day gift from my husband. My musings about the villains in the piece (and some of the poetic special effects) can be found down below, but my review of the film as a whole is found at the link. I could never love the movies the way I do the books, but in general, it exceeded my expectations.

The Death of Villains (Or "Does Mundane Work for Movies?")

2011-09-06T13:14:00.006-04:00

My dear husband gave me a great gift on a rainy Labor Day: a couple of hours to myself and a ticket to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (Part 2). Though I suspected I was the only person in the crowded theater who was making this film journey for the first time (considering the movie has been out since July) I didn't mind. I was just very happy to finally see the film, which pleasantly surpassed my expectations.

I'll save my longer review for later, but for now, I just had to ask this question: what is up with the death of villains in movies? Have you noticed that real baddies can't seem to just die like normal people? They have to go out in a blaze of pyrotechnics. Maybe this has always been true, but I'd never found myself quite so aware of it as I was yesterday. Even as I marveled over some of the astounding visual effects, I found the back of my mind wondering why they chose to make these deaths look the way they did.

There were three "bad guy" deaths in a row in the final battle of Hogwarts (I'm assuming here that you either know who dies because you've read the books, seen the films, or perhaps just don't care either way...so consider yourself spoiler warned).

Bellatrix dies first. She's terrible -- the torturer of Neville's parents and the murderer of Sirius Black -- and the filmmakers have given her huge amounts of screen time, mostly because Helena Bonham Carter is so good at playing a manically deranged character. The death effect here? Wave after wave of magic spells hit her until she's suspended in mid-air, frozen like the cartoon coyote just before he realizes he falls, and then she shatters. Literally shatters like glass, or even more precisely like ice, into a million little pieces. An interesting effect given her coldheartedness.

Nagini the snake dies next. I won't go into the weirdness of how they handled that scene (so differently from the book) but at least in the end the right hero walloped off her head. And she sort of disintegrates in a swath of black smoke. Fitting because of her magical qualities (no mere snake here) and interesting because the smoke reminds you of ring-wraiths and dementors and all sorts of other evil fantasy creatures. Not to mention the smoky instruments in Dumbledore's office that gave us one of our first subtle clues to the snake's importance to Voldemort.

Speaking of Voldemort: the big bad guy falls last. He too shatters, though instead of an explosive shattering, it's more a falling to pieces. As he and our hero battle, the curse he attempts to kill Harry with is pushed back up through his wand (a la Goblet of Fire graveyard scene, or so it appeared to me) and then pulses through him instead. He is sort of eaten from the inside-out by fire, killed by his own hand. We see him cracking -- and it really does look like cracking, especially with his bald, white head looking so egg-like -- and then he falls to pieces. Visually that's interesting, given the fact that he has been in actual "pieces" for so many years, having given up bits of his soul as he continued down the path of evil and tried to pursue immortality. And the effect was also interesting: we see the pieces flaking apart, like onion skin or burned parchment, and then raining down in ashes (sorry to go into such gory detail, but the visuals were quite arresting).

Okay, it's all interesting and symbolic and all that, but is it necessary? I know, I know...films have to show us what novels can tell us (and allow us to create in our own imaginations) but I've always been sort of fascinated by the way Rowling writes Voldemort's death. There is something almost...well...boring about it. I don't use that word lightly ~ she beat me to it, or close enough. She seems to understand that death coming for Voldemort is enough, all by itself, without it being symbolic, dazzling, unusual, bizarre, poetic-justice death. He is human, after all...though he kept forgetting that fact and kept losing more and more of his humanity. But in the end he's just human -- a broken, lost man who "fell backward, arms splayed, the slit pupils of the scarlet eyes rolling upward. Tom Riddle hit the floor with a mundane finality, his body feeble and shrunken, the white hands empty, the snakelike face vacant and unknowing. Voldemort was dead, killed by his own rebounding curse, and Harry stood with two wands in his hand, staring down at his enemy's shell."

Note that in the moment when he hit that floor with a mundane finality (and can't you practically hear the thump?) Rowling refers to him by his actual name, not by his fearful, grandiose, self-chosen moniker. In this moment we are reminded, with a resounding thud, of his humanness, his frailty, even his lostness. And it works powerfully. It just works, in all its minimalism, the way it should.

But does mundane work for movies? Would the same things that come across on the page come across on the scene if they played the death that way? Those were the kinds of thoughts flitting through my mind as I watched the spectacular battle effects in HP7.

The Week in Review (2): Prydain Finale, Return to Enderverse

2011-09-03T11:32:00.003-04:00

It was a light reviewing week for me, not surprising given that it was our first week back to school! I'm also trying to get my work (and work schedule) set for fall. Hopefully I can get back on a better writing pace as September progresses.

So for this week, just two reviews, both of books whose fictional worlds are such fun to spend time in.

I finally reviewed The High King, the fifth and final book of Lloyd Alexander's Chronicles of Prydain series. I finished the series long ago, but couldn't quite bring myself to write the final review because I didn't seem to want the experience to end. D. and I have been listening to the audio book versions (marvelously read by James Langton) and I'm pretty sure we'll be tackling Prydain as a family read-aloud sometime in the next year. The sweet girl has loved Narnia, and we're planning to read The Hobbit sometime this year too. So Prydain seems like a perfect next step into fantasy literature. Links at the bottom of review will take you to my reviews of the first four books in the series.

I also reviewed Ender in Exile, the most recent return to the Enderverse by Orson Scott Card. I had mixed feelings about this one. On the one hand, it's always enjoyable to spend time with Ender, and I can understand Card's love of returning again and again to this character and his world. On the other hand, some of these story points have been hashed out so many times in other books in the series that it felt a little flat. If you're an Ender fan, however, you'll likely enjoy this...and there are some great moments. I especially liked the letter from Colonel Graff to Ender (written near the end of Graff's life). I suspect I will continue to return to Ender's world as long as Card keeps wanting to write it...and I'm always fascinated by the ways he explores how stories change and grow as you look at the same event from multiple perspectives.

On the First Day of School...

2011-08-29T14:36:00.006-04:00

We enjoyed our traditions: the first-day-of-school muffins (cinnamon raisin this year); the painted handprint (my, how that hand has grown since kindergarten); and the list of the sweet girl's favorite things (fun to see how those change too). This year, for the first time, she filled in that list of favorite things on her own rather than dictating them to mom to write down. Yay for learning independence.

I remembered how hard transitions can be for the sweet girl. Even good things, new things. Anything that is "different than how we've done it before" can cause her angst. (I sometimes think she will grow up a major liturgical traditionalist...)

I rejoiced to see all the good things we remembered from last year. Some of the learning habits we instilled last year are still good, solid, worth keeping. Hooray!

I felt defeated when I saw the quick re-occurrence of bad habits. I need to find ways to help S. replace bad habits with good ones. It's not enough to just say "that needs to stop." In my own life, I know that's not enough. What positive things can I put in place of the negative ones I'm trying to let go of? That's the question I ask myself. It's one I need to ask with her too.

I found myself looking forward to some new learning trails.

I almost banged my head against the wall in frustration when I found I couldn't come up with words to explain a simple writing concept. It's so hard sometimes to teach something you love with great passion and intuitively understand how to do. The passion and intuition can be great helps, except when they're not.

I remembered I need to be courageous about challenging S. to do what she can do, and to realize she can do more than she thinks she can.

I discovered we need breaks. The material is heavier and lengthier this year. We need breaks, plenty of them and varied kinds. Fresh air. Bird feeding. Walks. Picture books. Music/dance. Blessing counting. Drawing time. Whatever it takes. There's a reason our family has chosen to teach/learn this way...in fact, lots of reasons. I have to remind myself anew that I don't have to teach "traditionally." That is one of the blessings of this learning life.

All in all...probably the most challenging first day we've ever had. I figure it can only get better and better from here!

The Week in Review (1): Austen Fluff, The Bard, La Belle et La Bete

2011-08-26T16:15:00.008-04:00

For the past eight plus years I've been writing reviews for a website called Epinions. How I got started and why I stuck around writing for them is worth a post sometime, and I may yet write it!

But for now I just have to say that I love writing reviews, especially of books and movies. When I write about the things I've been reading and watching here, I often link to my longer reviews on Epinions, and I plan to continue doing that in as natural a way as possible.

Beginning today, however, I thought I'd begin a weekly posting with links to the reviews I've written and published in the preceding week. If something strikes your interest, I hope you'll click over and give the review a read...and you can always feel free to leave me a comment here.

Some weeks I review quite a bit and other weeks not so much, so the length of these posts will likely vary. My goal is to try to get them up on a Friday or Saturday.

This week's reviews feature:

My yearly Austen fluff beach read (we did our mini-vacation to Lake Erie last weekend)~ North by Northanger by Carrie Bebris. This is part of her Mr. and Mrs. Darcy Detectives series and it was surprisingly fun and even more surprisingly touching. Her Lady Catherine is especially spot-on, so if you just can't get enough of Lady Catherine's dulcet tones, I highly recommend it.

A delightful documentary that goes behind the scenes of the 1988 theatrical production where Kenneth Branagh, directed by Derek Jacobi, played Hamlet for the first time. Discovering Hamlet is definitely for theater geeks, but they'll love it.

Jean Cocteau's 1946 romantic fantasy film Beauty and the Beast (La Belle et La Bete). I hadn't seen this in years, but it was just as fascinating as I remembered. Poetic screenplay, visually stunning effects. I just can't seem to keep away from versions of Beauty and the Beast. My review links to some different book and film versions.

..."Watch Your Aim..."

2011-08-18T12:53:00.003-04:00

I was cleaning in the kitchen this morning and found a tiny scrap of paper on the floor. It turned out it was a torn piece of my favorite Chinese fortune cookie message ever. I kept it on the fridge for ages, but I guess it fell off. I had to toss it, but that's okay...I still remember the message, which I shall quote here for your amusement and enjoyment.

"You will be a dragon of creative fire this week. Watch your aim."

I provide this especially for my writing friends (you know who you are) who are trying to stoke the creative flames.

Someone should really come up with a whole set of fortune cookie messages that inspire and encourage creativity. Or...wouldn't this be a cool gift for a writing friend...a whole set of fortune cookies filled with writing prompts!

To Buy or Not to Buy: That is the Homeschooling Curriculum Question

2011-08-16T13:50:00.011-04:00

We're less than two weeks from the beginning of our school year and I am in major planning mode. I'm printing forms for our binders, getting books set on the shelves, planning lessons, and just generally getting excited about the continuation of our learning journey. Not that the journey really stopped in the summer, but we did take a good, long break from routine. The sweet girl enjoyed six weeks of arts camp, a week-long VBS, and some days in New England during our unexpected family time there. We've still got our family's end of summer mini-vacation ahead, but to all intents and purposes, summer is winding down.

This is usually the time of year when I'm either patting myself on the back because of wise and prudent homeschooling purchases/planning, or groaning because I either goofed something up, neglected to purchase something we still really need, or spent too much on something I ended up wishing I hadn't bought. This year it's actually a combination of all those things, which led me to think a blog post on homeschool curriculum buying (or not buying) might be a good thing.

I am generally the queen of frugal when it comes to homeschool purchases. I have to be, because we're broke (not a joke or exaggeration...it's been true for a while, but it's grown especially true with the recent loss of one job whose significant income has yet to be replaced). Even if I didn't have to be this frugal, however, I suspect I would be anyway, and not just because I'm Scottish! There are so many wonderful learning resources our there, but not every single one is a necessary purchase. And while sometimes the only way you can figure that out is to buy it and hope, other times you can find ways to figure out in advance if a book, curriculum or other resource is right for you and your family.

As we head into our 5th year of homeschooling on the thinnest of shoestrings, I thought I'd pass along a few tips I've picked up along the way.

First off, repeat after me.

Public libraries are your friends.

I know this sounds obvious, but it bears repeating. It's not just that you can find wonderful books, audio and video resources at the library -- and you can. A good library catalog can be a huge aid in homeschool planning. Here are a few ways I like to put our excellent library catalog to use:

~Researching keywords and topics. If I know in advance some of the areas the sweet girl will be studying in history, science, and art (and I do) then keyword searches often turn up excellent resources, including many I've never heard of. If your library catalog system is sophisticated enough, you can search not just "all libraries" within a system but "all juvenile" collections. Refining that way can be very helpful on certain topics, though in the realm of art and music (when you just want to look at great pictures and listen to great composers) searching the whole system is a plus.

~Searching by author. If you fall in love with a given author on a topic, cross-search and see what else they've done. We've found some wonderful things this way!

~Use that hold shelf! Most libraries will allow you to request things from other libraries within the county's system and have them delivered to the hold shelf at your particular library.

~Use ILL. If the system doesn't have a resource, you can go outside the system via inter-library loan and get books sent to you from libraries around the country. This service sometimes requires a nominal fee, though not usually. (And you can usually mark on the ILL form whether or not you're willing to pay for a resource.)

~Borrow first, buy later (if at all). Say you've fallen in love with an online curriculum package but you know you can't afford to buy it. You jot down with pen and paper (or via delicious bookmarks) the books you think would be especially good for your homeschool year. Next step, see if the library has them. Not planning to use them until October? No matter. Borrow them now and discover if they're resources you really want to use. If they are, evaluate them to see if they're something you actually need to own. If the book is chock full of good stuff and you could see yourself needing to continually consult it, refer your child to it, or otherwise use it for a significant portion of the year, you may want to go on and buy it. If it's simply a book you think you could get a good one or two time use out of, and the library has it, then be prepared to request it and have it sent to your hold shelf in time for that portion of your studies. Holds can sometimes come in quickly, but once in a while they don't, so if it's an important enough resource that you know you really want to use it for a given project or unit, put the request through at least two weeks in advance.

Sometimes I discover that a book itself is not something we absolutely need to own, but the book may lead me to other books I didn't know about. Or (in the case of internet-linked books, like those in the Usborne series) I may check the book out of the library for a few weeks, bookmark the websites they refer to, and then return the book. I've begun using the delicious website to bookmark learning sites and tag them for different subjects/units/years, which helps me keep track of what we want to do when.

Besides utilizing the library like crazy, I do have a few other tips.

Don't buy anything on a whim.

Again, sounds obvious, but it's helpful. I probably overthink my buying choices, but I usually find the results are better when I do. I actually bought two things "on a whim" this year, highly unusual for me, and I now definitely regret one purchase and may yet regret the other (though am still hoping to eke something good from it).

It's particularly important that you don't buy on a whim if you don't have very good technology (and folks on a budget often don't) and are looking to purchase downloadable curriculum. PDF files, videos, zip files, MP3s, podcasts -- they're all the rage right now. But these visual and audio resources are only convenient and helpful for you if you can actually take advantage of them. If your computer is old and slow, as mine is, small curriculum resources (manageable sized PDFs, etc.) might be fine to purchase, but larger things are going to give you a big headache. Believe me!

Another trend I'm beginning to see is purchasing access to resources on a site. Sometimes this is an excellent idea, but I still urge caution. Use a website thoroughly before you purchase access rights. Make sure it has a lot of resources you need and that they're organized in a way that's easy to navigate. I purchased access on a website earlier this year which looked great on the surface, but I'm finding less of use than I expected, and it's not in very good order. Nine times out of ten, I find myself going to a similar site that has tons of FREE resources -- a site I already knew and loved. I should have stuck with it and figured out ways to create my own resources for the stuff I couldn't find.

Don't be afraid to take time or to get creative. Or to ask for what you need!

I know lots of homeschool curricula that tell you they've taken all the work out of things for you so you'll have more time. And that can be wonderful. I don't blame them for trying to sell time and convenience, especially since most of us need it. On the other hand, sometimes it's OK if you decide to forgo the pretty package and look into buying that handful of books used from online vendors. It's true -- it might take you two hours and you might only save twelve dollars, but sometimes saving twelve dollars is necessary. And sometimes you may find yourself learning a few things in the process of searching. (On the other hand, don't torture yourself with false guilt if you're having the kind of week...month...year...where time feels so precious that you really need those two hours more than the twelve dollars and decide to buy the pretty package.)

And guess what? That science curriculum you thought looked so cool, the one you couldn't afford to buy? They just might have free sample pages of their workbook. Download them. Study them. Figure out what you can utilize in your own learning environment. I did that last year and ended up creating some nice experiment notebooking pages that worked so much better for our needs than anything pre-packaged could have. I felt so grateful to that company for making some of their materials free, because those materials gave me great ideas. So if you like a certain company's products and ideas, spend time on their website. Order their catalog. Pick their brains. Literally. Many homeschool vendors are families who have been right where you are now. Send them an email. Ask questions. Sometimes they are willing to go above and beyond...they'll answer your questions, suggest resources, point you to their blog (that you may not have known about) or do all other manner of things to help you encourage learning for your kids. The homeschool world, in all its diversity, can be a pretty charitable and encouraging place.

And oh, that's another great part of homeschooling planning.

Swap and share.

You've probably got resources you're not using anymore, either because your kids have outgrown them or they weren't a good fit for your family. Find another family and bless them with those things, either by loaning or giving. Or look for buying/selling boards in a local homeschool group or an online forum. And don't be afraid to ask other homeschooling families if you can borrow. I have friends who have kept me going, in very lean years, by the judicious loan of books and CDs right when I needed them. Sometimes I've up and asked friends if I can borrow something. One year when I simply could not purchase our math curriculum teacher's guides, and couldn't imagine pushing through the year without them (I can be a chicken when it comes to math teaching) I asked a friend if I could borrow her guides. She had children older and younger than mine, and it turned out she didn't need that particular year right then. She was happy to do it. (Just make sure you set aside a "borrowed" shelf, or keep a catalog list of what you've borrowed, so you can return things when done.)

Keeping an eye out for sales and giveaways (through blogs or FB) is always helpful. Sometimes you might also be able to barter or work for resources. I'm a review writer and that has helped me a lot. Maybe there's a company that has a new product. Would you be willing to review it for them? Ask. They might give it to you free or at low cost in exchange for an honest review. Or they might have customer review rewards already in place.

I've ventured far afield! But I hope at least a few of these ideas might spark something for you if you're homeschooling on a budget. If you are, and if you have thoughts, ideas, or questions, I hope you'll leave me a comment.

Wisdom from Jack

2011-08-15T10:07:00.002-04:00

A little Monday morning wisdom from C.S. Lewis, courtesy of a friend's Facebook status:

"The task of the modern educator is not to cut down jungles, but to irrigate deserts. " ~C.S. Lewis

Irrigating deserts, yes! And remember, deserts can bloom!

Poetry Friday: The Gift

2011-08-12T16:25:00.003-04:00

When I was going through old papers the other day, I stumbled upon a few photocopied poems by Li-Young Lee. I can't remember when I first read his poem "The Gift," but coming upon it unexpectedly and reading it again was indeed a gift.

I love the way Lee tells two stories in this poem, linking the present and the past by way of a small silver splinter. The power of memory shines in this poem, as well as the power of the love we carry with us through memories.

To pull the metal splinter from my palm
my father recited a story in a low voice.
I watched his lovely face and not the blade.
Before the story ended, he’d removed
the iron sliver I thought I’d die from.

I can’t remember the tale,
but hear his voice still, a well
of dark water, a prayer.

The rest of the poem can be found here at The Poetry Foundation. Karen Edmisten is hosting Poetry Friday this week.

Excavating Treasures

2011-08-09T16:12:00.002-04:00

My week has had a strange rhythm. Household tasks (cleaning, organizing), lesson planning and trying to figure out the shape of my fall, lots of Penderwicks on audio (the sweet girl has fallen head over heels for the entire series), with VBS happening in the evenings. No other week this summer will look or feel quite like this one.

The organizing in our laundry room ~ which doubles as a sort of attic space/catch-all ~ has been interesting. I found a stash of papers that I clearly pulled from boxes a long time ago, probably during some other organizing season in my life, with the intention of doing something with them. I still haven't done much with them, beyond sorting through to see what's mine, what's D's, what needs to be filed for practical purposes (if anything at this late date) and what can go straight to recycling. It's an odd bunch of papers, ranging from receipts and other bits and pieces of ephemera to articles printed from the internet, snippets of poems I worked on a few years back, and scribbled drawings by the sweet girl at different ages.

It feels a little bit like excavating your life to come across things like this. I had a similar feeling earlier this summer when I went through some boxes of things I'd stored in my sister's attic during college, twenty plus years ago. Only that was a even stranger feeling since the layers went so much deeper.

Except for a few pages that seemed to have tumbled out of a very old writing file and gotten lost, the farthest this pile stretched back was four years. I know it's four years, because I found this little poem I wrote when the sweet girl was in kindergarten and learning to write her letters:

Learning to Write an "S"

I'm sketching a snake
who likes to skate
across my slate.

I also found essays by Kathleen Norris, poems by Li Young Lee, obituaries of and tributes to Madeleine L'Engle, annotated pages on John Granger's thoughts on postmodernism, and recipes for winter squash.

Tired and ear-achey as I am (and that's part of this week's rhythm too) I had to smile over all these treasures.

I Doubt Boadicea Made Bluberry Muffins

2011-08-05T15:54:00.003-04:00

It's been an odd sort of day. I've been catching up on household chores and doing some lesson planning for the fall, but it's been slow going since I'm not feeling the best. The sweet girl has been into creating drawings for a story she's been making up, and she's used a lot of chalk pastels. She kept getting chalk on her face and at one point, I told her she looked like a Celtic warrior. Next thing I knew, she'd covered her face with blue chalk.

So naturally I had to get out the Braveheart soundtrack. And naturally we had to dig up our old Story of the World, Volume 1 (Ancient History) to refresh our memories of the Celtic warriors who fought against Rome, especially Boadicea, the woman warrior queen.

We also made blueberry muffins. We'd been planning to all week, and wanted to make sure we got a batch made while we still had some fresh berries. The color seemed to fit the theme, but not much else. It's a little hard to picture Celtic warriors chomping muffins on the run. Though I suppose you never know...

72 Years of Cinema Magic

2011-08-02T20:35:00.003-04:00

We had a fun family outing yesterday morning. A local theater has been doing a family film movie club this summer. On certain weekday mornings they run old (sometimes classic) family films, with ticket prices set at $1 per person. Since camp ended last week (and VBS doesn't start till next week) this was the week we could give it a try.

Fortunately, it turned out to be the one week we really wanted to go. We got to see The Wizard of Oz! The sweet girl's first time to ever see it (though she knows the book) and my umpteenth viewing but the first time I've ever seen it on a big screen. Wow -- so many things I missed during all those years of catching it on television.

And how well this film has stood the test of time. My father saw it when it was first released to theaters back in 1939. He was 7 at the time, and was terrified of the flying monkeys. And yes, they're still scary!

The tornado is just an awesome special effect -- and not just by 1939 standards -- the early date just makes it even more impressive. I told D. that in all the dozens of times I'd seen the film on the small screen, I'd never paid the twister much attention. It was there in the background, and my attention was with Dorothy struggling in the storm winds in the foreground. But when you see it BIG -- wow. It's menacing! It just dominates the screen! Last night we found ourselves reading an online article about how they managed the affect (dirt, dust, fans, muslin, wires...) and it's really amazing to realize the creativity that went into that.

Some of the performances really stood out on the big screen too. Margaret Hamilton's witch was delightfully wicked (that last line, when she melts, is just wonderfully delivered) and Ray Bolger's Scarecrow is as sweet as I remembered. The Cowardly Lion was funnier than I remembered. And Judy Garland just about melted my heart on "Over the Rainbow."

Despite a bit of graininess to some of the distance shots, and a couple of segments where the sound was not quite in sync with the picture, it was just a terrific cinematic experience. It makes me wish that theaters would bring classic films back more often. Over the years I've had the opportunity to see a few on the big screen (The Sound of Music, Gone With the Wind) but there are many more I'd love to see. And I love that the sweet girl's first cinematic memory of The Wizard of Oz will be this one.

Happy Birthday, Harry!

2011-07-31T23:54:00.002-04:00

I've lived for almost fourteen years in the same very small town. I've walked countless miles on the streets and sidewalks. Every block has multiple memories attached to it.

Would you believe I actually have a literary memory rooted here? It has to do with the drugstore about 3 blocks from our house. It's a chain store that's changed names over the years but still looks much as it did when we moved to town. It's not the drugstore where we have our pharmacy so I'm not there too often, but since it's so close, I do pop in from time to time.

When the sweet girl was an infant, I was going through a difficult season. I was filled with joy over becoming a mom and loving our precious baby, but I was also struggling with postpartum depression. Several family members and friends passed away in the first eleven months of our daughter's life. It was a season tempered by high joys and deep griefs, often tumbling close together.

In the midst of all this, I was not always getting much sleep. Sometimes I just needed a break. My dear husband would say "take an hour" and shoo me out the door, often encouraging me to pick up my favorite Chinese food a few blocks away. I was working part-time at the seminary then and had my own office, and I would often take a book and the Chinese food and go hole up in the office (with the door locked) for about an hour, just to have some alone time.

And it was during that season that I fell in love with the Harry Potter books.

I'd read Sorcerer's Stone several months before. And I enjoyed it. D. and I agreed it was highly creative, especially the final chapters (with that eerie and interesting end we hadn't foreseen). I liked the characters, the humor, the plays on words.

But it was a busy season of life. And while I knew I wanted to go on to book two, I didn't feel compelled to read it immediately, the way you sometimes feel when you finish a story.

All of that changed the day I wandered into that little drugstore down the road, worn out and in need of some reading material. It's such a laugh to think I was looking for reading material in a drugstore, of all places. Our shelves at home are crammed with books. The library's about two blocks in the other direction. I was actually looking for a glossy magazine with pretty pictures, preferably of houses and gardens (I was so very tired right then that I'd discovered home and garden type magazines with pretty pictures were my best bet for reading material during the many hours I was nursing my baby).

What I found was a paperback copy of Chamber of Secrets. Oh, I thought, that's the second Harry Potter book. I've been meaning to read that. I picked it up, made sure I had enough money on me to purchase it, and took it to the counter. And I'm pretty sure I started it that afternoon, quite possibly holed up in my office with a carton of chicken and broccoli and a fortune cookie.

The rest, as they say, is history. I loved Chamber of Secrets. It made me laugh, it kept me on the edge of my seat, and I fell in love with Harry and his friends. It was the book that compelled me -- almost immediately -- to go find the third and fourth books (the only ones out at that time) and to wait with eager anticipation for the fifth. And reading that book propelled me into some of the best communal, literary discussion I've ever been privileged to enjoy, discussion that kept going for years.

So here at the end of July 31st, I tip my hat to the local drugstore, a strange literary landmark if there ever was one. I remain inordinately fond of their magazine and book aisle, though I'm not sure I've ever purchased anything else from it. And I also tip my hat to Harry and to his author, J.K. Rowling, and wish them both the happiest of birthdays.

Brave Writer

2011-07-28T16:33:00.003-04:00

I've been working on homeschool plans for the fall and am having entirely too much fun exploring the Brave Writer website. Although I plan to continuing using Writing With Ease for our main writing curriculum this year, I'm looking forward to supplementing with some of the Brave Writer materials. I've also been mining the site and its accompanying blog for ideas (Friday Free Writes, complete with prompts! Poetry Teatimes!) and enjoying some of the posts there.

And I must say I love this saying from what they term the Brave Writer lifestyle, which feels so appropriate for how I'm trying to shape our whole lifestyle of learning that I think I should write it with a gold metallic marker and put it somewhere near my desk: "Remember: depth over breadth, enjoyment over struggle, commitment over clutter."

Little Princess: Book and Film

2011-07-26T14:36:00.002-04:00

The sweet girl and I have both been feeling a little under the weather the past few days. Nothing terrible, but extra tired (probably the heat).

Last night her Daddy had to work late, and we decided that we needed a girl's movie night, even though it was just Monday -- movie nights in our household tend to be on Fridays. But hey, it's summer! And it felt good to loll around for a bit!

So during dinner we watched Little Princess, the Alfonso Cuaron directed version from 1995. It was the sweet girl's pick: she's been interested in seeing it ever since we finished our second read-through of the book, which is one of her absolute favorites.

I'd seen the movie before, and remembered a lot of the changes made to the plot, but I'd forgotten how much they seem to miss the heart of the book. I know I'm biased because the book is so beloved. And I continue to struggle with the idea of whether or not faithfulness to the source material is a valid criteria for judging the ultimate success of a film. I'm torn between reviewing a film on its own merits as a film, and providing contrasts with the book. I usually end up trying to find a balance.

At least that's what I tried in this review I posted at Epinions earlier today. If you know the book or the movie, or if you know both, what do you think? Would you agree with my assessment that "striving to act like a princess in terribly degraded circumstances is a real and moving struggle for Sarah Crewe, and that struggle is mostly lost in translation"?

Because sometimes films can have beautiful artistry in their own right and yet retain the heart of the source material. D. and I recently finished re-watching To Kill a Mockingbird, and once again I'm in awe at how well that movie captures the essence of the book. The book makes me weep, but then so does the film. Different sorts of weeping maybe, but tapping the same stream.

Reading and Writing Biography and History: What Matters Most

2011-07-22T15:14:00.009-04:00

A friend of mine recently emailed me an article entitled "So Many Different Dietrich Bonhoeffers" by Richard Weikart. Within the context of his wider agenda of discussing the ways in which Bonhoeffer has been made over in the image of various liberal and conservative thinkers, Weikart takes Eric Metaxas' recent biography of Bonhoeffer to task for this very practice. He castigates Metaxas for actual historic errors, a lack of deep understanding of historical and theological context, and finally, for presenting a portrait of Bonhoeffer that is far too evangelical.

I found myself at sixes and sevens when I read this piece. First of all, I should note that I read Metaxas' Bonhoeffer biography this past February. To be more honest, I should say I tumbled headfirst inside it and devoured it. Laying aside, just for a moment, any or all qualms about its historical accuracy or the worth of its interpretive lens (we'll come back to those things) the book was crafted so well from a stylistic standpoint that it was hard to put down. Metaxas, whose book on Wilberforce I truly loved, has a way of warmly inviting readers into the story of his subject. He has a knack of making you feel as though you are in the person's presence. He is also artful in his use of quotes. In other words, he can tell a good story (something I am coming to prize in the world of biography) and his tales go down easy.

But when it comes to writing biography, is spinning a good story enough if one isn't historically accurate? And how much does one's own context come into play in the way one spins a tale?

Although I devoured the Bonhoeffer book, I did not feel the full-hearted love for it that I had for the Wilberforce volume. It left me feeling a little unsatisfied and ragged. In fact, I never reviewed the book, as I normally would such a large volume I'd spent so much time with. It took me a while to muddle through to why, and my reflections helped me to think through how much the shape of a subject's life also affects the shape of a biography.

One reason the Bonhoeffer biography felt untidy and somehow incomplete is that Bonhoeffer's life felt that way. I don't mean to speculate on how Bonhoeffer himself felt when he died. Indeed, the accounts we have of his death seem to indicate that he died peacefully, a man at rest with God. But the fact remains that he was a victim of war; his life came to a tragic and sudden end when he was only 39, and when the war was almost over. Presumably, had the government not discovered Canaris' diaries, it would not have gone after the conspirators. With the war so close to its end, he would likely have been liberated and perhaps gone on to live a long life, thinking, writing, and teaching more. And had he done so, probably many of the questions people raise about his theology would have become much more clear.

The fact that Bonhoeffer was in prison for almost two years before he died also seems to complicate things for Metaxas, and (I would imagine) for any biographer. There's only so much we know about those final two years, most of it from letters and poems Bonhoeffer wrote from prison, or from the memories of loved ones who visited him during that time. The last three months, when he was being moved often and in secrecy, are almost a complete blank. Here is where I really struggled with Metaxas' biography, because he had to rely almost completely on the reminisces of people who just happened to share prison transports and cells with Bonhoeffer. Their perspective can make you feel as though you're viewing blurred snapshots from the final months, and those only taken every few days.

But back to my original musings about what makes good history and biography. Weikart certainly isn't the only critic to call Metaxas' work into question. Fellow evangelicals, though more sympathetic in tone, have also called him on his scholarship. There's a really good article from Christianity Today back in February (yes, I'm late to this party) that rounds up early reactions and responses to the book. Even the author of this article, who lauds Metaxas for his vivid writing (and doesn't dismiss the worth the book still has, which I appreciate) admits that the book is "agenda-driven." But of course he does so within the context of admitting that all history/biography (and even all book reviews!) are agenda-driven to some extent.

To some extent. I repeat that, because it seems to me that sometimes our writing is not so much agenda-driven (which implies we've consciously got our agenda in the front seat, calling the shots) as worldview soaked.

It's true that it helps us to clearly know from what perspective/lens (and potential bias) we're writing from, but writing from one is a given. We can't perch on an imaginary objective pedestal when we write: we write from a given place, time, and culture colored by our own unique personal history and understanding.

I also think there are times when writing from a clearly inhabited perspective is helpful. It's true that there are times when our given perspective distorts what we see and how we report it. But there may also be times when our given perspective sharpens what we see and how we write about it. In this particular case, I'm thinking that, while it seems to be true that Metaxas' understanding of Bonhoeffer's theological context doesn't go very deep, his perspective as an evangelical does help him to ferret out those places where Bonhoeffer manages to get past his own potential biases to critique theological liberalism -- in American seminaries of the period, for instance, or even in the work of his teacher Harnack. Doesn't it seem worth noting the places where Bonhoeffer steps outside the box you assume he would fit most comfortably inside, given the theological training he was steeped in? Does it take evangelical eyes to see those places?

So what, beyond in-depth research and artful telling, matters most when writing good biography and history? I'm still thinking this through. It seems that much biographical writing would be helped by a candid acknowledgment of our own context (with its potential strengths and drawbacks), a willingness to wrestle with at least some key sources that interpret a subject from a different perspective of our own, and a steeping (as much as possible) in the voice of our biographical subject. One reason I love using primary sources when I teach history is that nothing seems to take the place of hearing the actual voice of someone from the time period under discussion. Yes, sometimes those texts will be in translation (and that raises the issue of perspective in translation work!) and we still have to interpret what we read, but a thoughtful wrestling with primary sources can still go a long way toward insuring that we have a thorough understanding of a biographical subject.

More on this another time.

Poetry Units for Modern History

2011-07-20T14:50:00.003-04:00

I'm knee-dip in curriculum planning for the fourth grade this fall and loving it. Yes, I know, I'm a bit of a geek that way.

So tell me...if you were planning to introduce/study 4-6 English speaking poets to and with a 4th grader, poets that would correlate with the modern history time period we're also studying (1850 to the present) which poets would you choose? I've already decided on 3, but am hoping to choose another 1-3 poets, and I'm genuinely curious to know who comes to mind for other readers/teachers/poetry lovers. (I'll post more about my selections soon.)

Would love to hear your thoughts!

Literary Mice (Or "I think mice are rather nice.")

2011-07-19T16:28:00.008-04:00

When the sweet girl was younger, we seemed to read an awful lot of books about bears and bunnies. Come to think of it, we still do (some old favorites, some new). But lately it feels like everywhere we turn, we're running into literary mice.

I've blogged about literary dragons, so it seems only fitting that I move to the opposite end of the spectrum, at least size-wise, and post a bit about some of our favorite literary rodents. There certainly are a lot of them...

My thoughts started moving in this direction several weeks ago when our family enjoyed a read-aloud of Margery Sharp's The Rescuers. This tale about three brave mice, Miss Bianca, Bernard, and Nils, was the inspiration for a Disney film of the same name which is nevertheless an entirely different story. As much as I like the Disney film, I prefer the book, especially with its wonderful pictures by Garth Williams.

My favorite literary mouse, bar none, is the incomparable Reepicheep. First introduced in Prince Caspian, the second of the Chronicles of Narnia, he absolutely steals your heart in the third volume, Voyage of the Dawn Treader. (That I have only reviewed the film version of this story I've loved my whole life is something of a travesty...though it's perhaps understandable. I have a hard time reviewing books I love as deeply as VDT, books that have become part of my heart's terrain.) Maybe I can redeem my shortcoming a bit with this post from the archives about Reep as an Anglo-Saxon warrior.

Kate DiCamillo has certainly added to the prestige of literary mice with her Tale of Despereaux. And who can forget Beverly Cleary's Mouse and the Motorcycle (and subsequent volumes) or E.B. White's Stuart Little?

Perhaps because they're small and unobtrusive, mice often make great observers of history. I'm thinking, of course, of Amos, the inventive mouse of Ben Franklin in Robert Lawson's Ben and Me; the tiny white mouse-poet who befriends Emily Dickinson in The Mouse of Amherst; and Celeste, the mouse with a window on Audubon's world in Henry Cole's gorgeously illustrated A Nest for Celeste.

We've known so many picture book mice I know I can't possibly remember them all. One of our recent favorites is Bella and Bean, by poet Rebecca Kai Dotlich, creative pictures by Aileen Leijten. We also enjoyed Two Christmas Mice by Corrine Demas, illustrated by Stephanie Roth. One of my oldest literary mouse friends is Frederick, in Leo Lionni's book of the same name, about a mouse who stores colors for the bleak winter while all the other mice are scurrying about storing food.

When I think of books for littles, several mice come to mind. Although I'm not a huge fan of the television tie-in versions, during the preschool years we did enjoy the whimsical pictures of the original Angelina Ballerina by Katharine Holabird. Two of my favorite illustrations of books for very young children, John Butler and Jane Dyer, both do themselves proud with mice pictures in While You Were Sleeping and Time for Bed. Mice make gentle bedtime book companions!

Rose Fyleman's poem that begins "I think mice are rather nice..." has long been a favorite in our household. Melissa Wiley features Scottish Robert Burns' poem To a Mouse in The Far Side of the Loch, her second book in the Martha series. (My review of that book is forthcoming; meanwhile here's my review of the first Martha Book, Little House in the Highlands.)

Humorous Kenn Nesbitt gives us the poem "If You Give a Mouse a Motorcycle", a title which manages to pay clever tribute both to Beverly Cleary and to the popular If You Give a Mouse... series of books by Laura Joffe Numeroff.

I know I'm forgetting numerous poems, picture books, and longer stories...in fact, I feel sure I've overlooked some obviously epic mouse. I'd edit as I think of more. (I decided to save literary rats for another post.) And if you have favorite mouse poems, stories, or books, please drop me a comment! I'll be glad to add to the ongoing list.

"Here is the only place I can love Him."

2011-07-17T21:26:00.005-04:00

I didn't mean to disappear from the blog. A few days of travel, a moving fully into summer rhythm, and I have found myself needing to take a hiatus from journaling here. I've savored time to do other sorts of writing, reading, thinking.

I've been reading Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Gifts, a book it's a special delight to hold and read since I've spent many a moment on Ann's blog over the past few years, and because I entered into her gratitude exercise a long while ago. I've been keeping more of those blessing lists in my physical, hand-held journal (which has suddenly felt deeply important to me again) but have yet to transfer any of the lists to the blog. Maybe this evening, or tomorrow.

One of the blessings of Ann's book is her meditation on time, especially the need for us to live in the present moment -- a pearl of wisdom it seems to me so many people have spoken to my heart over the years, but which I continually need to be called back to and to heed again. Her sparse, poetic language flows so beautifully, and I find that once in a while, a line just jumps off the page and straight into my heart. "Here is the only place I can love Him," was one such line this morning. She's referring to her love for God. And here -- this moment, this today. How true this is. We cannot love him in the past because it's gone. We cannot love him in the future yet because it's not here. HERE is the only place I can love Him -- wherever our HERE happens to be.

I say this during a week where I have thought a lot about the past. Time spent at my sister's unearthed old journals and letters I'd left in boxes in her attic two decades and a little bit more ago. Two decades does not seem like a lot of time, but oh the younger self that spilled from those dog-eared notebooks and tattered envelopes. How much I needed to sit with that younger self for a while and laugh and cry and laugh some more and remember her passions and mistakes and bad poetry and surprising snippets of stories. It was good to sit with her, like meeting an old friend.

I say "Here is the only place I can love Him," during a week in which the 95 year old woman who first led me to Jesus is in the hospital in my old hometown. Mrs. B. suffered a heart attack a few days ago; she's weak and frail but peaceful. The same night she suffered her attack, her 67 year old pastor son also suffered a heart attack (how connected are our hearts, I wonder?) and though frail Mrs. B. survived, the robust son did not. I am thankful indeed that my mother and father, who love Mrs. B. as they would their own mothers (she has truly been a spiritual mentor, friend, mother, grandmother, to our whole family) are there with her now. They're able to feed her and pray with her and just be with her, especially in this time when much of the immediate family must be away from her bedside to travel the few hours for the son's funeral. They're able to return a cupful of blessings to a woman who has waterfalled blessings on our family for so many years. And they're doing it in the hospital where my own dad spent a week fourteen months ago, which means they're getting a chance to see doctors, nurses, maintenance people who blessed them then.

I did say maintenance people. The head maintenance man was a tremendous gift to my parents when my father was in hospital. When my mother first met him, my dad was so ill we didn't think he would recover. My mother was at her lowest ebb and had been all alone, praying. She literally thought he was an angel sent to minister to her, his words were so encouraging, his countenance so loving. It turns out he has the voice of an angel, a beautiful gospel-singing voice that he uses to minister to patients. He sang for my dad over a year ago. He sang for Mrs. B. yesterday. "Because He lives, you can face tomorrow."

God will be in all our tomorrows. He is in all our yesterdays (a wonderful thing to know as I meander down this street called memory). But here...HERE...is the only place I can love him. Right now.

Meditation for July

2011-07-07T23:11:00.002-04:00

"He made my feet like the feet of a deer and set me secure on the heights." ~ Psalm 18:33

I set this verse to a tune this evening so the sweet girl and I can sing it together. We're at the beginning of our third or fourth read through of Hinds' Feet on High Places (an adapted version for children). This lovely book about a character named "Much-Afraid" and the Chief Shepherd who leads her out of the valley of her fears and into the heights of the kingdom of love really seems to speak to my daughter's heart. It speaks to mine too. And so this is the verse on which we'll meditate this month.

Some Favorite Moments

2011-06-29T13:49:00.005-04:00

This week has been full of fun moments. Here are just a few...

First, I'd forgotten how wonderful it feels to get dirt under your fingernails. The sweet girl and I have begun planting in our raised bed in the community gardens. We did a few potted flowering plants, and plan to do a few other potted/seedling sorts of transplants (some herbs, maybe a tomato plant or two, or some green peppers) but even though it's late in the season to start, we thought we'd give some seeds a try. We'll see how it goes. I'd almost forgotten the wonderful absurdity of seeds. So tiny they're almost not there -- hard to hold onto when the wind is blowing -- paper thin -- easy to lose -- and YET. We plant them with this cheerful expectation that something real and living will emerge from them, maybe even grow beautiful and fruitful. No wonder Jesus loved seeds as kingdom metaphors.

Then there's the joy of finishing a task, and finishing it well! After the great computer crash of late May/early June, I finally got the homeschool portfolio completely finished. Had a blessedly graced evaluation time with the official evaluator yesterday (sweet girl read to her from "Ramona's World") and today I handed the portfolio with official evaluator letter over to the district office. Hey, 24 hours to spare! The regular secretary wasn't there, but the helpful person in the office filled out the receipt for me. And I wish you could have seen my face when she asked, "So, do you have your affidavit for the 2011-2012 school year yet?" Um. Oh...right...I have to do this *all over again*.... She quickly assured me I still had time, but added some folks just turn them in when they bring the portfolio for the year just finishing. Which is really smart, but far more together than I can manage to be at the moment!

Finally, in the little gifts are sometimes the best gifts category, I've been thoroughly enjoying how much the sweet girl is loving one of her simplest birthday presents. I picked up a new sketch diary for her, along with a set of Crayola "pipsqueak" markers (little ones, brightly colored). They've gotten tons of use, and she's completely enthusiastic. Yes, the big present (a lovely doll she's named Emily Susanah Madeleine) was also a hit, but it's a good reminder to me that a small gift, lovingly chosen, is sometimes the best gift of all.

And without realizing it, I think I just added three things to my ongoing gratitude list. (#s 137-139)

Nine Years Ago...

2011-06-27T19:51:00.003-04:00

It's rare that you know exactly what you were doing a given number of years ago on a certain day and time. But when you're commemorating the birth of your first born (and only) daughter, it's pretty easy to recall with great clarity!

Nine years ago right now I was exhausted and marveling over the miracle of the sweet girl's birth. I remember so much of that long day (following a very long night) with great clarity, including the thunderstorm outside the hospital window. Most of all, I just remember being utterly grateful for how the Lord had brought us through a difficult labor and delivery ~ and how precious that little baby in my arms (so tiny!) truly was.

And now I look at my long-legged, slender, twirling, laughing, fancy-dress wearing, short hair-cut sporting, doll hugging, brussels sprouts eating, punny, artistic, loving and creative nine year old...and I marvel even more.

Books About Books

2011-06-21T23:39:00.005-04:00

Lately I seem to be on a tear of reading books about books. It started a couple of weeks back when I found A Jane Austen Education on the new book shelves at our little library. No sooner had I finished that than my copy of The Wilder Life hit the hold shelves two towns over.

I'm working on reviews of both, but I found myself wanting to jot a few thoughts here. These were both fascinating reads...highly different from one another in some essential ways, and yet similar too. They both seem to fall into the genre I'm coming to think of as literary memoir, or maybe "book lover's confessional" would be more appropriate.

A Jane Austen Education is subtitled "How Six Novels Taught Me About Love, Friendship, and the Things That Really Matter." (In other words, "everything I need to know I learned from Jane...")

The Wilder Life (a title which could probably lead one into unintended trouble if googled indiscriminately) is subtitled "My Adventures in the Lost World of Little House on the Prairie."

Both books are written by highly literate and liberal folks -- good writers, very educated, with a deep love of story. William Deresiewicz, who used to teach at Yale, has the honor of being perhaps the most interesting male writer I've ever read on Austen. His book is about two-thirds thought-provoking literary criticism (he gives readings of all six of Austen's novels) and one-third memoir/confessional. What fascinates me most about this book, written from the perspective of a Jewish academic who seems mostly secular, is that his main thesis boils down to this: reading Jane Austen helped him to be a kinder, more compassionate, deeper human being. In fact, I think you could actually argue persuasively from his arguments that what he learned from Austen is the need for Christian virtues (and the beauty of holiness).

Wendy McClure, the author of the Wilder book, sounds even younger and hipper than Deresiewicz, whom I gather is about my age (hence not so young and hip anymore, though certainly not decrepit). She's also a lot less academic...though her impressive writer credentials include an MFA from the Iowa Writer's Workshop. Her prose style reminds me a bit of Anne Lamott, if one could ever imagine Anne Lamott wearing a sunbonnet and trekking across the prairie in an obsessive search for some elusive...something. That is, something that has to do with Laura Ingalls Wilder and her story, something that somehow might connect to the trekker's own story.

I have to admit I laughed out loud multiple times while reading The Wilder Life. I love (love, love) all the Little House books. I've loved them since childhood, and I've loved reading them all to my daughter (except for the First Four Years, which I've not been able to bring myself to put her through yet). McClure knows the books backwards and forwards, and it was easy to fall into a deep kinship with her experience of inhabiting the world of the books so deeply. I too inhabited Laura's story in my childhood. And whenever I enter the books again, I still feel like I do ~ an experience I've had many a time, not just with Wilder's work, but with other writers too, including Austen.

McClure talks about religion more overtly than Deresiewicz, though in a way that shows her discomfort with zealous people who take it too seriously ~ and while one can easily empathize with that, I found it interesting that she was scared off by religious zeal/passion when she was so good at showing so much of her own -- when it came to literature! She tries to be charitable, but she clearly feels ambiguous about how "Christian homeschoolers" (a group she tends to lump together without much differentiation) have approached Wilder's work. That made me chuckle, partly because I'm both a Christian and a homeschooler, and I would likely have some of the same concerns/critiques she has. Wilder has definitely been embraced by the wider homeschooling community, but not always for the reasons McClure assumes and most highlights. There's a tremendous diversity among homeschoolers, even faith-based ones, that she hasn't quite grasped...though it's hard to fault her for that since it's a common misperception.

What Deresiewicz and McClure have in common, despite their different voices and approaches, is that ability to fall completely into stories, to let stories change and shape them. They are passionate readers who have found not just artistry in the pages of books, but themselves. And they're passionate about sharing their insights about what they've learned in the process. Deresiewicz' journey is much more interior/cerebral, though the book takes a surprisingly personal turn in the final chapter as he relates his own story of courtship/love/marriage and gives it an Austen spin. McClure's journey is exterior as well as interior as she sets out on an actual pilgrimage to see as many Laura Ingalls Wilder "places" as she can, and as she tries to sort out the tensions between truth/fiction and the connections (and disconnects) between Laura's life and her own.

Both books also put me in mind of C.S. Lewis. Okay...a lot of books put me in mind of C.S. Lewis, who has helped me learn how to read and think more deeply. (I sometimes feel like Jack hovers between the lines of most things I read, whispering encouragement and pointing out insights.) His words on "sehnsucht" (that deep yearning or craving for something beyond ourselves, something that often feels just out of reach) kept playing through my mind as I read these two authors. And they both seem to be living examples of Lewis' wonderful quote: "We read to know that we are not alone."

"Kaboosh!" The Sounds of Creativity

2011-06-20T17:45:00.004-04:00

I spent the afternoon at Arts Camp doing brainstorming/wordplay sessions with three groups of kids. I was there to try to prime the creative pump for the rest of the week's song writing sessions, which Dana will doing with them.

Despite some craziness (not an easy working space, some rambunctious kids in second group, and some VERY rambunctious kids in the third group) it was a lot of fun. I wanted to get them thinking concretely and metaphorically, without telling them that's what we were doing. I used one of my favorite group writing starters, where I have the kids think about a particular season ~ summer, of course, for today ~ but to think about it in terms of what it looks like, sounds like, tastes like, smells like, and feels like. I also threw in color associations and got them to think about what the season would look like and wear if it was a person. For one group, when things were petering out, I tried to get them thinking about how they'd sell summer if they could put it in a bottle. (One little girl said she'd put lots of grass and flowers in the bottle.)

It's always interesting to see where children's minds go. Their creative and imaginative leaps are fascinating. But sometimes equally fascinating is how pedestrian kids can be (and adults too, this is an equal opportunity challenge) when you ask them to try to come up with descriptors, one reason I like to push it back into the realm of the concrete whenever possible. Even after we brainstormed a whole page full of rainbow colored words and images -- most of them highly specific and related to various senses -- when we got to the part where we were putting lines down, there were kids who wanted me to write things down like "summer is fun" or "summer is pretty." How is it fun? I pressed them. What makes it look pretty?

Like I said, this is an equal opportunity challenge. Left to ourselves, we often run straight toward the easy, vague words that mean so much they don't mean much at all. The kinds of words that balloon over you like a tent, covering a lot of ground. I'd rather hear the snap of the tent as it's unfolded and the banging of the hammer as the tent pegs get smacked into the ground. And I use that image purposefully, because one of the kids, when I asked him what summer sounded like, answered "bang! bang! bang!" When I said, "what makes that noise?" he said "the hammer when you hammer tent pegs in when you go camping!"

Sound words were a definite hit with the younger kids. If I'd had more time, I would have played more with onomatopoeia. One of the sounds of summer that kept coming up was fireworks. So with the youngest group, I asked them to make fireworks sounds. They came up with "kaboosh!" which worked its way into their poem. "Summer says 'kaboosh!' like fireworks."

A fun day. Or maybe I should say a day that sizzled like sparklers.

Summertime...and the Livin' is...Busy?

2011-06-17T10:58:00.005-04:00

I know, I know, it's supposed to be easy!

Our summertime schedules rolled into town with a vengeance this week. Beginning of AYI Arts Camp (D. directing, S. attending), seminary homecoming (time with friends old and new), and the Ancient Wisdom Anglican Futures conference (check it out here). Our brains, hearts, and bodies are all on overload, but in a good way.

I'm far too scattered this morning to do a cohesive post (heck, it took me three tries to spell cohesive) so I'll just jot a couple of random links and thoughts.

I found myself quite thoughtful this morning over this piece by Timothy Keller. I'm really coming to love his writing. This article seems to get at something I've been thinking toward for years, but have never quite found a way to articulate: how the way of Jesus offers us a "third way" of being in the world and understanding family, one which isn't fully defined or understood through either a conservative/traditional or liberal/secular lens. Good food for thought.

Having an opportunity to hear William Harmless, SJ yesterday on Augustine of Hippo and the ancient catechumenate -- what a delight! Since D. and I are tag teaming the conference this week, he heard part 1 of the lecture and I heard part 2. We agreed we didn't have time to exchange notes last night, but ended up talking about it for twenty minutes anyway, as tired as we were.

Listen to this wonderful quote from Augustine's De doctrina christiana, on the "three aims of preaching":

"A certain man of eloquence has said -- and said rightly -- that an eloquent person should speak in such a way that he 'teaches, delights, and persuades,' adding: 'To teach is a necessity, to delight makes it enjoyable, and to persuade is a triumph' (Cicero, Orator 69). Of these three aims, the one mentioned first, that is, the necessity of teaching, shapes what we say; the other two shape how we say it. So the one who speaks with the aim of teaching should not think he has spoken to the person he wishes to teach so long as he has not been understood. Although he has verbalized what he himself understands, he should not consider that he has really spoken -- really communicated -- if the one listening to him has not really understood."

And on the "Evangelist as Tour Guide" (love this thought) Augustine writes:

"Now if we feel disgusted because we are so often repeating things geared to the little ones, familiar things, let us equip ourselves with a brother's or a father's or a mother's love, and by linking our hearts to theirs, those things will again seem new to us. For so great is this feeling of compassion that when people are touched by us as we speak and we by them as they learn, we each dwell in the other, and so it is as if they speak in us what they hear while we, in some way, learn in them what it is we teach. Isn't it quite common that when we show certain beautiful, spacious locales, whether in town or out in the countryside, to those who have never seen them before, we who have been in the habit of passing them by without any enjoyment find our own delight renewed by their delight at the novelty of it all? And how much more enjoyable the closer our friendship, because as we come together more and more through this bond of love, what had gotten old becomes new to us all over again. But if we have some progress in contemplative matters, we do not wish those who are learning from us simply to enjoy and be amazed when they gaze upon human handiwork, but we want them to enjoy and be amazed by the deeper design and underlying purpose of the Artist himself and, from there, soar up in admiration and in praise of the All-creating God, where the richest fruitfulness of his love finds its endpoint. How much more ought we to rejoice when people now approach to learn of God Himself, for whatever things we learn, we learn to learn of God; and how much more ought we to be renewed in their newness, so that if our preaching, now a routine, has cooled off, it may again catch fire because of our hearers."

Amazingly good stuff (all from Fr. Harmless translation Augustine in His Own Words published last year by Catholic University of America Press). My teacher heart needs this, on all sorts of levels...I hope to have time to ruminate and write more about it later. For now, just passing on a little bit of ancient treasure.

"Things That Fascinate Me When I Read and Write Fiction..."

2011-06-05T15:43:00.004-04:00

Our main computer crashed this week. While I'm waiting for its healing (we have a good friend who is working to recover the data this week) I'm on another computer, the one that soon *will* be my main computer. It's also the one I used the last time our other computer crashed. Diving into documents, I found a few things I wrote and saved last summer, including this meme.

I can't remember where I found it, but I liked the idea. It was fun to revisit the list today too!

******

Things That Fascinate Me When I Read and Write Fiction

Moments of decision. I am always at my deepest attention when I get to a place in a story where a character faces a moment of clear decision. Forks in the road excite me.

Names. Character names, place names, explanations for why something or someone is named what they’re named. People who live up to their names, and those who don’t.

Quirky little towns with a cast of somewhat eccentric characters.

Descriptions of landscapes, especially specific flora and fauna.

Train rides, or other moments where people can contemplate the world passing by.

Physical journeying, especially through forests or mountains.

Music or poetry, especially when they’re woven seamlessly into a story.

Interesting collections (and characters who collect things).

American history, particularly interesting tidbits involving presidential or pioneering history.

Descriptions involving color.

People sitting around talking…just talking…the way real people do.

Sudden epiphanies.

Mysteries, especially ones involving the past.

Unlikely groups of people becoming friends, forging a team, or becoming a community. The more misfits the merrier.

Meals. I’ve already mentioned that I love it when people sit and talk, or have sudden epiphanies, or forge community. Even better if those things happen over food, especially if it’s described so well I can practically smell it or taste it.

Lost things becoming found. Lost people ditto.

Allusions to other books I’ve read and loved. I always feel much closer to a character if s/he has read and enjoyed the same books I have.

Biblical themes, allusions or names.

Two characters who showcase contrasting traits.

Characters who make me laugh because they’re ridiculous and pretentious but don’t realize they are.

Time travel. It drives me crazy, especially when not handled well, but it also thoroughly intrigues me…and always has. I’ve been nibbling at writing time travel stories since I was about seventeen, but I’ve never fully taken the dive.

Narrators whose voices feel so real and authentic I can hear them in my head.

Romance, especially when it’s completely subsidiary to other issues in the books, and when it sneaks up on the characters themselves. Good, believable obstacles (emotional or otherwise) that need to be resolved before two characters can come together.

Family history.

Family jokes and sayings.

Allusions to world history or church history, especially if it’s an era I’m especially interested in.

Ancient times.

Celtic saints.

Grandmothers. Grandfathers.

Old and young generations needing to learn how to communicate.

Medieval ethos, especially if there are going to be battles.

Talking animals. They’re often so much wiser than we are.

Stars/astronomy. Characters who like to stargaze.

Wise mentor figures.

Moments of pity and charity for fellow creatures, especially when you least expect it.

Surprises.

Laughter.

Puns and wordplay.

One of Those Moments

2011-06-04T11:29:00.004-04:00

I had "one of those moments" during yesterday's morning quiet time with the sweet girl. We were doing our prayers and Bible reading before breakfast, and were talking about the morning's readings. I can't even recall the exact passage or story under discussion -- we often jump around quite a bit in these morning conversations -- it may have been triggered by the Pharisees. But the sweet girl had one of those "a-ha" moments that gave me an "a-ha" moment too.

"Mommy," she said, "you know how sometimes people can act all good on the outside but not be right on the inside?"

I nodded.

"Well," she said sagely, "it's like 'believer is as believer does.'"

It took me just a second to catch on to her train of thought. We sometimes remind her that "pretty is as pretty does," especially on mornings when she's dawdling over something very girlish (like choosing clothes or playing with a "hairstyle") but is struggling with attitude and behavior. I think we learned the expression from Ma Ingalls, that sage dispenser of practical parental wisdom. And it's a good saying. What you look like on the outside is one thing, but your heart attitude is the most important of all.

But the sweet girl's observation took it a step further. "Believer is as believer does." Who we are in the deepest core of us is reflected in what we do. Jesus wasn't ever faked out by seemingly pious actions by folks like the Pharisees (and he's still not fooled when we try it too). He could see to their heart motivations. But real fruit, real righteousness, real acts of mercy and peace and goodness, are important. What we do matters. It's inextricably linked to who we are and what our heart situation is. We can't grow fruit if our roots don't go deep into good soil. We can't bear fruit if we're not attached to the vine. But if we are, then the fruit will come. And people will know us by that fruit.

Or to put it more simply, in the sage words of a growing, learning, ever-root-deepening (thank you, God) eight year old girl: "believer is as believer does."

Poetry Friday: Jessica Powers

2011-06-03T14:05:00.004-04:00

Not long ago I came across a gorgeous photo on the Facebook page for the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. I don't have permission to post it here, so a verbal sketch will have to suffice: imagine an indigo bunting perched on a branch, his body startlingly blue against a misty purple blur of mountains, his mouth wide open in a song you can practically hear. He's alone against a backdrop of beauty and majesty, just singing and singing.

Though it's not about an indigo bunting, the picture made me think of one of my favorite poems by one of my favorite poets, "Robin at Dusk" by Jessica Powers. Jessica Powers was a Carmelite nun who lived from 1905-1988. My copy of her Selected Poetry is thumbed over, paged through, spilled on...sort of the Velveteen Rabbit equivalent of a well-loved book.

I thought I'd send the poem winging and let it perch here. Imagine the little bird singing for all he's worth...

I can go starved the whole day long,
draining a stone, eating a husk,
and never hunger till a song
breaks from a robin's throat at dusk.

I am reminded only then
how far from day and human speech,
how far from the loud world of men
lies the bright dream I strain to reach.

You can go here to read the final two (and amazing) stanzas. You'll need to scroll to the middle of the page.

Happy Poetry Friday! The roundup is at The Writer's Armchair.

Joining the Dance

2011-05-25T14:45:00.003-04:00

I've recently begun reading Timothy Keller's book King's Cross: The Story of the World in the Life of Jesus. His opening chapter presents one of the loveliest, most cogent descriptions of perichoresis I've ever read. As one of my favorite seminary professors used to say: "That'll preach."

Perichoresis is one of those big theological words that tends to make people scratch their heads. It's a Greek term that refers to the mutual love/indwelling of the Triune God, and is sometimes described in terms of a dance. One of the things I love about Keller's chapter is that he discusses the meaning of this concept in a beautifully winning way without ever actually using the five-dollar word. (I know, I just used it...but I'm using it to make a point about how he's not using it. Does that make sense?)

One of the reasons I struggled with the decision to go or not go on into higher (beyond masters) theological studies was precisely this: I think theology is best when it's written so that real people can understand it, learn from it, grow from it. When I was writing theological papers, I worked hard to make them as free from academic jargon as I could. I don't think writing in this fashion means you lack understanding: rather you work hard to have a deep enough understanding that you can write about it in real language. Not dumbed down language, but everyday language. In other words, I wanted to write theology as a communicator, poet, story-teller, teacher -- not primarily as an academic writing for other academics. I still want to do that.

So I'm thoroughly enjoying Keller, because he's actually doing it.

Here's a bit from the chapter:

"The Father, the Son, and the Spirit are each centering on the others, adoring and serving them. And because the Father, Son, and Spirit are giving glorifying love to one another, God is infinitely, profoundly happy. Think about this: If you find somebody you adore, someone for whom you would do anything, and you discover that this person feels the same way about you, does that feel good? It's sublime! That's what God has been enjoying for all eternity. The Father, the Son, and the Spirit are pouring love and joy and adoration into the other, each one serving the other. They are infinitely seeking one another's glory, and so God is infinitely happy. And if it's true that this world has been created by this triune God, then ultimate reality is a dance....

If this is ultimate reality, if this is what the God who made the universe is like, then this truth bristles and explodes with life-shaping, glorious implications for us. If this world was made by a triune God, relationships of love are what life is really all about."

There's lots more. But at least this gives you a taste!

Random (But Mostly Sweet Girl) Musings in the Early Evening

2011-05-17T19:22:00.004-04:00

D. and the sweet girl are at our church's weekly children's outreach. I'm usually there too, but this evening I stayed home to finish recording my grades and comments for the seminary courses I assisted in this semester (due tomorrow) and to nurse a bad headache.

I've still got a little bit of work to go, but the bulk of it is DONE. I can't tell you how good that feels. This teaching semester has been oddly difficult for me, especially given the fact that I wasn't actually fully teaching a course (for the first time in several years) just assisting in three. It's been a good experience, but it's also felt like a bit of a slog, and I'm too tired right now to figure out why. (And maybe that's part of the answer right there: my sem work, like everything else, has to be put into the context of overall tiredness and stress.)

Before I dive into the last bits that need doing, I thought I'd take a deep breath and enjoy a few minutes to just journal in the quiet of the early evening. It's rare that I have this kind of quiet time and space to myself before late night.

So here goes, a few random musings from a tired but grateful heart.

* I think I'm raising a writer. The sweet girl began keeping a story notebook earlier this year, and lately she's gotten it back out so she can write more stories. That might be a good clue in and of itself, but the real clue that she's got a writer's heart came for me yesterday when she suddenly announced that there was *one certain pen* she had to find so she could write in her story notebook. I mean, the pen she had was all right, she explained quite earnestly, but it was not the pen she really likes to use when she writes stories. "I need my flowy pen," she told me. "The one that writes all smooth and flowy." Speaking as someone who finds all story-writing easier with a fine tipped pen, I can fully empathize. And hallelujah, we found the flowy pen.

* There's a sign taped to our front window. It's addressed to the birds. It's the sweet girl's promise to feed them "breakfast, lunch, and dinner" -- weather permitting. She's stuck to her promise too, and the sparrows, wrens, and starlings have begun to get quite excited when they see her coming. She keeps putting bird seed in her pockets. I foresee plenty of bird seed in our washer/dryer, though I have asked her to remember to check her pockets before she puts her clothes in the hamper.

* We still love picture books. It's been a hard few months for the sweet girl, who has moved into what I guess you'd call "tween territory" with great vigor. Her intensities, her brightness, her energy...blessings...her intensities, her anxieties, her struggles to control her temper...some challenges. All of it comes together in a big package that, some days, feels like more than any of us can unwrap. (So thankful God holds her heart. Mine too.) In the midst of all this, there are moments when she so longs to be "big" and "independent" and moments when she just wants to curl up on my lap again, like she's four. It reminds me of my golden retriever, years ago, when he was just moving out of his puppy stage but would still try to curl up on my lap. Given the sweet girl's huge growth spurt this year, that last is getting more difficult ~ she has really long legs! But one thing we've both realized is how much we miss reading picture books together, so lately we've been making time to do that again. It's been wonderful. I need to get some reviews out, especially of the delightful Emma Dilemma.

* We're loving drawing. One of the best parts of loving picture books is that we no longer just read them together, we pore over them together. And then on Fridays, we draw from them together. This has yielded some surprising creative results for us both in the past few months, which I hope to post about again.

Hmmm...this has turned into very much a parenting/family/homeschooling sort of post, though I had thought I would range further afield on all sorts of topics. I guess my brain just spiraled in one direction. And now I really do need to get back to work. More musings soon!

"And Then God Showed Up..."

2011-05-16T16:43:00.003-04:00

There are certain catch-phrases bandied about by Christians that drive my theological sensibilities a bit batty. "And then God showed up..." has always been near the top of the list.

I think it drives me crazy because it assumes that there are times when God is not around. I'm not trying to deny, of course, that we all go through seasons of time when we can feel as though God is absent. Sometimes this may be due to our own sin or apathy ("prone to wander, Lord, I feel it...") Sometimes we may be going through a time when the Lord may choose, in his gentle wisdom, to not speak too loudly -- (unlike the "megaphone" times in our lives) -- perhaps because he wants us to seek him more deeply.

Whatever the reasons may be, there are plenty of wilderness times in our lives when we may feel as though the Lord is not very active or present in our lives. Small wonder then that we marvel when we do suddenly sense his presence, when we find ourselves saying "and then God showed up!" like it's a shock.

As I said, what's bothered me most about the phrase is that, lurking in the background, there's this element of surprise. As though God took a walk somewhere, wandered off, got lost, then happened to make it back. A little late, but hey, at least he bothered to show up. Maybe I'm being over-sensitive, but there's something that smacks a little bit here of the vision of the deist watchmaker God, who sets things in motion and then leaves us all to muddle on as best as we can. But he pops in from time to time, just to check on how things are going.

But lately I've been gaining more empathy for the statement, or at least seeing it in a new light. Maybe because I've been floundering a bit in the wilderness lately, and the times when...oh, okay, I'll say it...the times when God has showed up, clearly and obviously, have provided such deep and meaningful refreshment for my weary heart and soul.

Still, I don't want to forget the pervasiveness of God's presence. He is there, in the hard times as well as the beautiful, in the dry times as well as the garden blooming wild with fruit times. He is there. We may forget it. We may not always sense it. We may forget to walk in the truth of it. But he is there. He is the one who sustains us, every breath, every moment, every mercifully new morning. He is there.

So here's what I think: when we say "And then God showed up..." this is what we just might mean:

We mean to say, like Jacob, "God was here, in this place (this very ordinary, hard-ground, rock-littered place!) and I DID NOT KNOW IT!"

We mean to say, like the Israelites celebrating on the other side of the Red Sea, "there was no hope, there was no way out, there was no way through, and then the most amazing thing happened...God showed up! He rescued us from death!"

We mean to say, from the depths of our heart, "I was once far off, but now I have been brought near, and amazing grace, God is here!"

We mean to say, like Jack Lewis, "God walks everywhere incognito. And the real challenge for us is to come awake."

So maybe we mean to say...today, this moment, this now, I have come awake. The Prince of Peace has bestowed the kiss of life. I have come alive to the presence of God (always here, always sustaining) in ways that have surprised and stunned me. That have made me realize anew that hallelujah, HE IS HERE.

Story Musings and Prequelitis

2011-05-09T16:23:00.004-04:00

I got my traditional Mother's Day nap yesterday (three years running makes it a tradition in our household) and was amazed how much that helped me, energy-wise, going into the new week. Perhaps it should be a weekly tradition!

Following the nap, I was treated to Chinese food and a video with my dear family. We decided to go on and see The Empire Strikes Back, as the sweet girl had decided (after weeks, or was it months?) that she was ready to move on in the Star Wars trilogy. She loved the first one, but I think the intensity made her want a long breather in between installments. Plus she's sort of charmed by the fact that her Daddy and I had to wait three years -- THREE YEARS! -- in between each movie when we originally saw them.

I love watching the Star Wars films with the sweet girl. It's fun to watch any story you know by heart with someone new, someone who is seeing the story fresh for the first time. It's even more fun when they're watching it from a young, innocent perspective. I like to observe what works and what doesn't work for her, from a story perspective. What does she intuitively get? What needs more explaining? What strikes her as hilarious? Not that every story needs to be simple enough to be fully understood by an almost nine year old, but it's still interesting to ponder what works and what doesn't on a child's level, and which story layers work on more than one level.

She loved Yoda, of course. She lit up like a Christmas tree when we told her he was voiced by Frank Oz! She is a BIG fan of Miss Piggy and Fozzie Bear. She thinks Han Solo is very funny. The running gag of the hyperdrive not being fixed was probably her favorite part (well, next to checking out Princess Leia's changing hairstyles). She practically cackled in glee when Han landed the Millennium Falcon on top of the huge Imperial ship ("it looks like a tiny skylight!" she crowed) and then floated away with the garbage. I think she was momentarily stunned by the big reveal of Luke's parentage -- I was glad she was cuddled on my lap at the time, so I could squeeze her shoulder in sympathy.

Of course, Dana and I ended up getting into a long, geeky discussion, as we brushed our teeth and headed toward bed, about the prequels. And about how we would have written Darth Vader's back story completely differently. (Oh go on, admit it. You would have too! If any villain ever deserved a better back story than the one he got, it's Vader!)

But I think I've had prequels on the brain, ever since we started viewing (thanks to an unexpected wait on a movie at the top of our Netflix queue) the first season of Star Trek: Enterprise. This is a series we've often talked of wanting to watch -- we never caught any of it. Well, D. says he caught part of an episode once in the wee small hours when the sweet girl was a baby, but as you can imagine, that's a bit blurry. I don't even recalling seeing that. So it's all new to us.

I've been hearing that a lot of Trekkies weren't overly fond of the series because it messed with canon and with their preconceived ideas about what the Star Trek universe looked like prior to Kirk, Spock and crew took to the skies. They have my empathy, but I honestly think, based on the three episodes we've seen so far, that the writers were spot on, at least early. The third episode, which we watched a few nights ago, was especially rife with original series "vibes" and references. And it's just plain fun to see the beginnings of things we've grown accustomed to in the Star Trek universe, like phasers and transporters. Their trepidation over using the transporter (and their insistence on using shuttles) is particularly fun -- sort of like reading mystery novels set anywhere prior to the mid 1990s, when you sometimes find yourself gnashing your teeth because the characters in danger don't have cell phones. I also enjoy the sense that the crew members are like kids in a candy shop when it comes to space exploration. Meeting alien races! Cool! Much less high-falutin' talk (no prime directive yet) and much more "let's just go see what's out there." It works for me.

So in general, how do you feel about prequels? Should writers avoid them like the plague? Are they always rife with potential pitfalls? What about companion stories written from a different POVs (like Ender's Shadow/Ender's Game?)And what book, or series of books, would you most love to see "prequelized"? I'd love to have some geeky book/movie discussions about this topic.

May the fourth be with you...

2011-05-04T14:28:00.005-04:00

Yes, it's Star Wars day! It's also the 50th birthday of my beloved husband. And what's a literary, story-loving woman like myself want to say in honor of that wonderful event?

Let's try this.

Happy Birthday to the man who is my...

Luke Skywalker (okay, with some moments of Han Solo)
Professor Bhaer
Mr. Darcy
Lord Peter
Adam Eddington
Joe Willard
Mr. Knightley
Lee Stetson
Benedick
Almanzo Wilder
Beast (to my Belle)
Taran
Charlie Chaplain (he'll get this reference)
Ron Weasley
Will Heelis
Boaz
Captain Wentworth
Faramir
Atticus Finch
Christopher Foyle

I know there are more I could put on this list, but it'll do for a start.

Dressing Up Like a Princess

2011-04-30T22:40:00.003-04:00

My eight year old woke up yesterday wanting to see pictures of the royal wedding between Prince William and Kate Middleton. She especially wanted to know...did the bride have a train? (And how!) And so it goes, another day with imaginations captured by the world of princesses.

Yesterday my friend Don posted some musings about why even independent Americans are so highly fascinated with royal goings-on. Among other ideas, he posited one that I particularly like...human beings love to watch things like royal weddings because we deeply long for a king. In other words, at least some of our love of pageantry and fairy-tale stems from deep spiritual longing.

As a reader and writer of such tales, this is something I've suspected for a long time. It made me think again of George MacDonald's wonderful words at the beginning of The Princess and the Goblin:

THERE was once a little princess who—

"But Mr. Author, why do you always write about princesses?"

"Because every little girl is a princess."

"You will make them vain if you tell them that."

"Not if they understand what I mean."

"Then what do you mean?"

"What do you mean by a princess?"

"The daughter of a king."

"Very well, then every little girl is a princess, and there would be no need to say anything about it, except that she is always in danger of forgetting her rank, and behaving as if she had grown out of the mud. I have seen little princesses behave like children of thieves and lying beggars, and that is why they need to be told they are princesses. And that is why when I tell a story of this kind, I like to tell it about a princess. Then I can say better what I mean, because I can then give her every beautiful thing I want her to have."

"Please go on."

******

We are, each and every one of us, made by a king. And not just any king, but the King of the universe, the King of love, who longs to adopt us and make us children and heirs in his royal family. Doesn't that take your breath?

I confess this has been on my mind again this week because we're in the midst of a family re-read of A Little Princess. When we traveled last weekend, I let the sweet girl choose which books she'd like us to take for reading in the car, and this is one she especially wanted again. It's my favorite (by far) of Frances Hodgson Burnett's books, and I love to read it aloud. And despite some moments of old-fashioned sentimentality that ring a bit oddly to our contemporary ears, or maybe because of them, there are moments in the story that move me to tears. When Sara is banished to the lonely attic and finds her life degraded and impoverished, it is by continuing to imagine that she is a princess that she finds the strength to be brave, kind, and generous, even to those who treat her terribly.

It reminds me of how C.S. Lewis encourages us to "pretend" to be what we're not -- not hypocritically, but as practice to become what we most want and long to be. He calls it "dressing up as Christ." As he writes in Mere Christianity:

Why? What is the good of pretending to be what you are not? Well, even on the human level, you know, there are two kinds of pretending. There is a bad kind, where the pretence is there instead of the real thing; as when a man pretends he is going to help you instead of really helping you. But there is also a good kind, where the pretence leads up to the real thing. When you are not feeling particularly friendly but know you ought to be, the best thing you can do, very often, is to put on a friendly manner and behave as if you were a nicer person than you actually are. And in a few minutes, as we have all noticed, you will be really feeling friendlier than you were. Very often the only way to get a quality in reality is to start behaving as if you had it already. That is why children’s games are so important. They are always pretending to be grownups—playing soldiers, playing shop. But all the time, they are hardening their muscles and sharpening their wits so that the pretence of being grown-up helps them to grow up in earnest.

Gratitude Tuesday (the post-Easter version)

2011-04-26T16:22:00.002-04:00

We traveled back from Virginia yesterday, not getting in until pretty late. I was too tired to do a Monday gratitude post, though there was much to be thankful for at the end of a long, hard and stressful week.

We spent Easter weekend with my mother-in-law and stepfather-in-law. His alzheimer's has worsened greatly, and they are on the cusp of a very big move which is involving the selling of both their houses, including my husband's childhood home. We also went to the lot where developers recently bulldozed my husband's grandparents' beautiful little house to make room for the cookie cutter mansion now planted on the former lawn. Lots of stress and emotions over those few days, and much tiredness. And yet good to be together, good to love one another in the midst of it all.

The sweet girl has had a very hard week. Her anxiety struggles, which wax and wane, and which recently had seemed so very much better, kicked into high gear about a week ago. Our travels seemed to exacerbate them, and that was hard on this mama bear, who is feeling pretty worn out and in need of a fresh jolt of grace, gentleness, Jesus peace.

In the midst of it all: Easter! He is risen!
And yesterday, traveling our tired way home, our nineteenth wedding anniversary.

So.....the gratitude is poured out from a weary but deeply thankful heart.

127. Christ is risen! The Lord is risen indeed! Hallelujah!

128. 19 years with my beloved husband. The grace to be able to smile our way through an anniversary day/evening which felt, by necessity, so prosaic and ordinary...and yet the joy of realizing how many prosaic and ordinary days we've been blessed with, as well as moments that sparkle and shine. And the knowledge that we're held together, through both, by God's great love and the love he's built between us, like a beautiful bridge.

129. The opportunity to just be present to D's family right now, especially his mom.

130. Safe travels to and from Virginia, especially knowing how tired we are and how old our car is.

131. A new windshield for our car.

132. An unexpected blessing of a gift from friends. The Lord continues to help us put aside some provision for the very lean months coming.

133. No answers yet on vocational/job questions, which loom so large. And yet more peace than we've expected in the midst of not having those answers.

134. The beautiful flowering dogwoods in Virginia, pink and white.

135. Time for the sweet girl to play in Grandma's yard and tree. The precious way she ran all around the house, hugging each corner of it to say good-bye, when we left.

136. As we "lose" yet one more home, one more green space (that feel so rare and precious in our lives) the opportunity to lean deeper still into Jesus, who is truly our home and truly our green space.

Belated Birthday Greetings to Beverly Cleary

2011-04-19T13:33:00.003-04:00

We are some of the biggest Beverly Cleary fans on the planet, so I don't quite know how we missed hearing that she celebrated her 95th birthday last week (on April 12). I've been catching up with tributes, and so far I think this New York Times article is my favorite. Here are five reasons why:

1) The great Louis Darling illustration of Ramona. I know other people have drawn her since, but Darling's Ramona will forever be Ramona for me.

2) New quotes from Cleary, who spoke with the reporter on the phone. And the blessing of knowing she is still well and able enough to speak so cogently with reporters!

3) The delight of knowing one of her own kids asked the Mike Mulligan question.

4) The article quotes Elizabeth Bird, one of our favorite librarians. And Leonard Marcus, wonderful children's lit historian.

5) The children's book editor who wrote the piece evoked the names Haywood, Estes, and Lovelace in the same sentence. Which is almost like reading a "who's who" of my daughter's favorite authors.

Reviews of Bad Motels

2011-04-16T21:27:00.003-04:00

So we're contemplating taking a brief family trip in honor of Easter, our upcoming 19th anniversary, and my husband's upcoming 50th birthday. We're feeling worn out (to put it mildly) and in need of a definite break. The only problem, of course, is that we really can't afford to swing for a hotel. The more we've looked, the more we've been appalled by prices, and by the fact that so many places don't even serve breakfast anymore even though prices are so high.

So we began looking for "motels" within a certain area, and found one that seemed very reasonably priced. Anything is too high for our budget, but this seemed at least somewhere in the realm of doable. Until my husband said, "why don't you check out some reviews of the place?" I found 38 reviews and we started reading...

And suddenly found ourselves laughing so hard I thought I might fall off my chair. It's a good thing I wasn't drinking milk!

Reading bad motel reviews could become something of a new favorite past-time, I think. Or perhaps I should say reading reviews of bad motels, which is a nicer and more accurate description (the reviews themselves were written just fine). The reviews on this particular motel (I will spare the chain by not saying its name, or the town this particular motel was located in...I think they've got enough trouble with these 38 reviews!) were just hysterical. The more we read, the harder we laughed. You might expect a handful of reviews to note a handful of problems. But these reviews read "worst place I've ever stayed in my whole life!" and "never again!" and the problems piled on so high that we were practically gasping and clutching our sides.

Bed bugs. Roaches. Ill-fitting sheets. No stoppers in the bath-tub. No fridge or microwave as promised. Fleas! Traffic noise. And...I kid you not...and this one made me howl (not that it's really funny, but it was just like one more thing on top of this tottering mountain of awfulness) one review said someone on the hotel staff had stolen their iPod!

I don't think you could invent this much misery if you tried! I think my favorite was the line "all the rotten reviews you read here are real..."

Anyway, we needed the laugh. Who needs a vacation? Reading reviews of bad motels is a wonderful stress-buster!

Bright Wings and Morning Laughter

2011-04-14T09:56:00.004-04:00

This morning at the breakfast table I was perusing my library copy of Bright Wings. It's an illustrated anthology of poems about birds, edited by Billy Collins, with paintings done by David Allen Sibley (described as "America's foremost bird illustrator.") I haven't known Sibley's work before, but the paintings are beautiful, and I found myself making little admiring sounds as I turned the pages.

At one point I murmured "oh, lovely..." and the sweet girl, finishing her bagel, perked up.

"What's lovely?" she asked.

"This pelican," I said, holding the book out so she could see the picture.

She cocked her head. "Is that painted by Audubon?" she asked.

"No," I said. "By someone else, someone painting today. It does remind you a bit of Audubon though, doesn't it?"

She nodded. "I think," she declared, "if Audubon was still alive, he might say: COPYCAT!" And then added, as though she wanted to be completely fair, "And then this guy could say -- excuse me, but that's my job."

Okay For Now

2011-04-06T19:29:00.004-04:00

If I was into fan girl kinds of squealing, you would likely have heard me from miles away yesterday.

I was skim reading an advertisement from Barnes & Noble and saw mention of what they termed "a very special young reader's pick." Mildly curious, I looked...and looked again. It was a book by Gary D. Schmidt. A book I'd never heard of. A NEW book.

Cue squealing.

And then I read the publisher's description and skimmed a little bit of the early reviews and saw...be still my heart...that I knew some of the characters. That this book, titled Okay for Now, is a sequel of sorts (or at least a "companion novel") to The Wednesday Wars, which in my humble opinion is one of the best mid-grade/young adult novels written in the past few years.

Cue whooping!

I'm seeing words like "poignant" and "heartbreaking" scattered in early reviews. And phrases like "instant classic." The kind of raves that must make an author's heart palpitate.

I have a copy on hold at the library and can hardly wait to get my hands on it. Of course I do have to wait because the book's release date (officially yesterday) means all new copies are still in process. And there's already a wait.

Clearly lots of squealing and whooping going on amidst Schmidt's readers yesterday.

I don't know how I missed hearing this was coming out, but what a delight to get the news yesterday...on a rainy/snowy April morning. It brightened my whole day!

Poetry Month

2011-04-04T16:44:00.004-04:00

I can't quite believe this, but I'm three for three with the poetry prompts at Poetic Asides this month.

This feels highly ironic. Last year, I was so excited going into Poetry Month -- I set goals (reading, writing, blogging)! I set goals -- and I met very few of them. This year, scrambling as I am in what I'm beginning to think of as "the never ending busy season called my life" my only unstated-to-anyone but myself goal was simply to enjoy more poetry this month. Read more (myself, and with the family), visit poetry blogs as I can, maybe write a bit from time to time.

So the fact that I have actually written a rough poem for each of the first three days of the daily prompts at Poetic Asides is a wonder to me. I'm actually not posting them there (that would feel too much like pressure) just playing with them in my journal. A few of them may wend there way here at some point! I just picked up the fourth prompt, which I shall mull over as I cook dinner...

I am just plain having fun with poetry this month. The sweet girl is enjoying our daily visits to Gotta Book's 30 Poets/30 Days. We've been enjoying some poetry books picked up from the library hold shelf on Saturday. I even launched my first ever write-off at Epinions in honor of Poetry Month.

Not bad for a lady who hasn't finished her taxes, is behind in every imaginable way with teaching and writing deadlines, is swamped with church commitments, can't possibly catch up on laundry (maybe ever again), and doesn't even want to think about all the record-keeping she needs to do for homeschool.

I have a feeling that writing poems right now is my way of taking deep breaths.

Forty-Three

2011-03-30T15:47:00.009-04:00

My birthday on Saturday was a day full of blessings. We celebrated by heading to the conservatory downtown, which has become a tradition (at least I think three years in a row constitutes a tradition)!

It's also a tradition that I share some of the beauty here.

Is anything more lovely than orchids?

I'd never heard of Persian buttercups but I definitely fell for them.

The colors of the hydrangeas were particularly stunning.

The two people who made the day even more beautiful just by their presence. I think this may be my favorite picture of daddy and daughter ever!

Jane, Meet the Gilmores...

2011-03-24T18:04:00.003-04:00

If you love Jane Austen (and find some eye rolling irony in the romantic and dramatic angst contemporary marketing can bring to her work) and if you happen to be a fan of the late, great Gilmore Girls, this funny video clip is a must see.

Four words. Jess as Mr. Darcy.

Too funny!

"What I'd Be Like If I Wasn't..."

2011-03-22T14:22:00.006-04:00

I came across the following this morning in Kent Annan's book After Shock: Searching For Honest Faith When Your World is Shaken:

"A friend of the writer Henri Nouwen tells the story of someone angry with him, after he was rude once, who confronted him questioning the disconnect between his actions and his faith. Nouwen was heartbroken and said, 'I wonder if (he) ever considered what I would be like if I wasn't a man of prayer."

Oh yes. This was so heartening and strengthening for me to read after yet another Monday where I felt like I failed miserably in so many small, essential ways to be the kind of person, mom, teacher, daughter of Christ that I wanted to be. I don't mean I failed all day, but I felt like I blew it several times in the course of a tired, stressful day. Not patient enough. Not loving enough. Not gentle enough. Not creative and faithful enough.

And sometimes when I have days like that, I am all over myself (inwardly) chastising myself for not being who I'm supposed to be, who I want to be, who I know God wants me to be, and I forget -- I really do forget -- to take stock and think "but who would I have been today if I wasn't a woman of prayer?" What would I have been like if I wasn't a woman of faith who believes that the Holy Spirit nudges me to notice when I've gotten completely off-track, compels me back to the path he wants me on, produces fruit (even on a day when the harvest might seem small) that I could never possibly produce on my own?

Maybe I wasn't as patient as I should have been, could have been, hope to be, long to be. Maybe I wasn't as patient as I might be on another similar day one year from now, or two, or ten. But was I even a smidgen more patient, loving, forgiving, quick to stop wounding words than I might have been a year ago, or two, or ten? Not because life is like a never-ending escalator of up and up progress, but because of Who I belong to?

And what if, the next time a brother or sister isn't patient enough or kind enough or gentle enough with me or with someone else, I stop to consider what they would be like if they weren't people of prayer? What if I stop to reflect that the same patient God whose fingers are shaping my heart is also shaping their heart? That he has, in fact, perhaps already brought them a very long way -- and is still taking them farther into holiness and health?

All these thoughts today, born of that one story about Nouwen, seem to tie into this wonderful post I read from Karen Edmisten last night, on our progress in prayer and how it doesn't happen overnight. She writes:

"I share this because if you are ever discouraged by the fact that you seem to revisit the same sins or the same patterns of behavior repeatedly, I hope you won't despair. Compare yourself to where you were five years ago with the same sin. What about ten years ago? Do you handle it differently? If you're striving to seriously live your faith life, my guess is that you do handle it differently. A particular temptation or inclination might still be there, but you're probably approaching it in new and better ways all the time."

And then she shares about a very useful tool called ARRR prayer (or as she creatively named it, "pirate prayer"). ARRR stands for "Acknowledge, Relate, Receive and Respond." It's one of those small memory devices that goes off over your head like a light-bulb. This is a prayer tool I will definitely use. I hope it blesses you today too -- no matter what sort of day you may be having!

Gladness and Singleness of Heart, Disney Princesses and Sehnsucht

2011-03-17T18:50:00.007-04:00

Tuesday was a strange day. It started when the sweet girl walked into the kitchen, looking decidedly green (and two days before St. Patrick's Day)! "I don't feel very well," she said in a wobbly voice. Five minutes later she'd thrown up, and we found ourselves under the flu bus for the rest of the day.

It's strange how a truly sick day with your child -- not a sniffle day, or a slightly sore throat day, but a truly miserable, nausea-coming-in-waves-can-barely- crawl-off-the-couch-when-I-have-to day -- can narrow your focus dramatically. As I held my little girl's hair while she retched, bathed her face with a warm cloth, scoured the homeopathic remedies, checked our stock of ginger ale (and asked my dear husband to get more), any thought of all the other things I "had to do" that day quickly fled. Apparently I didn't have to do them after all. Apparently what I needed to do was shower my little girl with care and TLC.

There's something freeing, humbling and purifying about that. I don't mean I'm glad she was sick -- far from it! I always feel badly when I see my little one (or anyone else's) sick or in pain. But I do feel like Jesus had something to say to me during this illness, something I needed to hear during this Lenten journey.

I can put things aside. And I can focus more single-heartedly and with greater purity of heart than I usually think I can. The world doesn't stop turning if I don't do my multi-task routine for a day or two. When God puts something in my path that truly screeches me to a halt and calls for my heart's complete attention, He gives me the power and strength to seriously give the task (whether it's loving a child or something else) that full attention.

And he wants me to realize that sometimes it's perfectly all right...perhaps even needful...to do that period, full-stop, wholehearted attention thing when it's not a crisis or emergency. Perhaps even that it could be a good thing to set aside time just to do it. For Him. Because. Of course I know he also knows that he's put me in the midst of a busy life, and called me to serve others -- and that through serving others, I am loving and serving him. But what if I just let everything go for an hour sometime, just because? Just to focus my mind, heart, attention and all on Him?

Something to ponder.

**********

And then there were the Disney princesses.

I told you Tuesday was a weird day. Since the sweet girl was feeling too miserably sick even to hold a book in her hand, and since my voice wouldn't hold out to read aloud all day, I suggested movies. I know sometimes movies can help take your focus off nausea, and she was really struggling with that. So I let her pick what she wanted to watch/doze through. What she picked was, in her later words, "two princesses and a pig." Cinderella, Little Mermaid, and Charlotte's Web.

This isn't the post for me to go into my ambivalence over the world of Disney princesses. Suffice it to say that there are good things about Disney animation that I enjoy and admire, and I don't mind my daughter watching and enjoying many of the Disney films (especially the older ones) as long as we can talk about the movies. Which we always do.

Anyway, the day was overcast, I had the lights down low, and the sweet girl lay huddled on the couch watching her movies. I went about the business of folding big piles of laundry (good day to begin to catch up, though I spent most of the day laundering bedclothes, pajamas and towels) to the soundtrack of Disney princess songs. I wasn't paying a huge amount of attention to the films, but the songs were running in my head as I folded. And for some odd reason I couldn't quite fathom, I found myself tearing up over the Little Mermaid's "Part of Your World."

Laugh if you must, but it wasn't just flu-house-induced tiredness. I had a similar reaction not long ago, when we were perfectly healthy, while listening to Snow White trill "Someday My Prince Will Come."

Has it ever occurred to you that Disney has some downright theological moments? That what's going on in those huge, longing moments is pretty reminiscent of what C.S. Lewis refers to as "sehnsucht" -- a longing for something real and tangible in this world that nevertheless speaks to our recognition that nothing in this world will ever truly fill us up, and our longing to move beyond this world to the real world beyond? (Cornelius Plantinga sums this up beautifully in his book Engaging God's World. I quoted him in this post.)

"I want adventure in the great wide somewhere...I want it more than I can tell. And for once it might be grand to have someone hold my hand. I want so much more than they've got planned."

"What I would give if I could live out of these waters! What I would pay to spend a day warm on the sand?...I'm ready to know what the people know, ask them my questions and get some answers. What's a fire? And why does it -- what's the word? -- burn? When's it my turn? Wouldn't I love - love to explore those shores up above? Out of the sea, wish I could be, part of your world..."

"Someday my Prince will come...someday we'll meet again. And away to his castle we'll go, to be happy forever I know. Someday when spring is here, we'll find our love anew, and the birds will sing, and wedding bells will ring, someday when my dreams come true."

Yep.

Multitude Monday

2011-03-14T21:35:00.003-04:00

It's been a long time since I've done a multitude Monday post -- a post where I add to my list of things I'm thankful for.

I don't, of course, only feel thankful when I write things on this list. But it's an exercise that does help me focus on gratitude. When I haven't done it for a while, and when I find myself thinking "ohhh...I don't feel like doing a gratitude post today" then I know it's time to do one.

Mondays have gotten very hard for us lately. Sundays have become far busier than I ever expected them to be: church, usually meetings (sometimes one, sometimes multiple) and somehow never enough rest. I often have to stay up late on Sunday evening, catching up with my class (they post on Saturdays) and prepping for the school week at home. And somehow we just never hit the ground running on Mondays anymore.

That would be fine with me -- I'm really getting into slowing down. But the sweet girl is having a hard time with that concept lately. Stillness, relaxation, spontaneity: they're not easy things for her. We do manage pockets of quiet in the day (hooray for paper dolls and classical music and good books) but her intense and often anxious nature can still easily obsess about doing things a certain way or in a certain format/order. So when Monday gets off on the wrong foot, as it often does lately, it can sometimes just stay on that wrong foot all day. Like a one-legged kangaroo.

I used to get uptight and frustrated in response (oh, okay, sometimes I still do) but nowadays I am better at trying to gently defuse the struggle and help her grapple with her feelings. Sometimes that means humor, sometimes it just means refusing to enter into the anxiousness. Sometimes it means calmly going on and doing whatever I'd planned for us to do and waiting for her to want to join in. Sometimes it means singing. Tonight she got uptight about reading the Bible: she's struggling her way through Genesis, but is determined to read it all on her own and all the way through, no matter how hard it feels and no matter that I've told her that it's really okay if she doesn't read it all right now (this was a goal she set for herself, and while I love that she did, it's so hard to see her struggle through something that I long to be a quiet joy...)

But you know what? God knows what he's doing in her heart. And maybe it's not my place to derail this particular struggle, beyond my gentle encouragement that she not get discouraged, that she takes it slow and easy. So I didn't fight it tonight. I didn't lecture her about how Scripture is supposed to be a joy (because really, is that going to help her heart?). I let her storm off in some petulant tears, and then I stayed at the table and read my Bible for a while. And then I sang some hymns. By the time she came back into the room in her pajamas, I was still singing hymns and I felt a whole lot better. And she looked at me with that loving "hey, my mommy really is a little bit crazy" look, and then she smiled. And I felt God smiling on us both, in all our raggedy, messy struggles.

So my thanksgivings...

115. I felt God smiling on us both, in all our raggedy, messy struggles.

116. Spring is truly coming! Crocuses are in bloom! Light is changing!

117. My precious husband and I took the trash out together this afternoon. Which means we got a little walk in the sunshine in the midst of an otherwise incredibly busy day when we hardly saw each other. And we laughed a lot over the fact that a walk to the trash could be such a blessing.

118. Time with friends yesterday eve, including some we'd not seen in a while. A chance to rejoice with them and their little one as he celebrated his third birthday.

119. Time with some of those same friends the evening before, at a local restaurant.

120. A beautiful CD of classical music from the library this weekend, which the sweet girl spent part of the afternoon dancing/skating to. Imaginary skating, but nonetheless beautiful...and great exercise!

121. Some Puccini on that CD that is breath-taking.

122. A good start to my Lenten reading plans. I'm not as far along in the Psalter as I planned to be at this stage, but I am finding a reading rhythm, and I am loving the reading.

123. Gifts from four families to help with our livelihood and ongoing expenses (as we face upcoming job transitions). God's amazing and faithful provision through his people, and through opportunities to work.

124. An opportunity to share the gospel with a child last week who truly had never heard the good news.

125. Safety for various people we know (or friends and family of friends) who could have been in harm's way during the earthquake/tsunami in Japan, but who are safe. Though many prayers and tears for all those harmed or lost in that terrible tragedy. I'm not thankful for the tragedy, but thankful for prayers, tears, outpouring of love, and God's faithfulness and love in the midst of suffering.

126. A creative plunge I'm taking. More on that soon.

Saturday Evening Prayer

2011-03-12T23:14:00.002-05:00

Dear Lord,
Give me a few friends
who will love me for what I am,
and keep ever burning
before my vagrant steps
the kindly light of hope...
And though I come not within sight
of the castle of my dreams,
teach me to be thankful for life,
and for time's olden memories
that are good and sweet.
And may the evening's twilight
find me gentle still.

(Found on the faithandworship.com site while hunting down resources on St. Patrick and Celtic prayer for catechesis class. I'll have to see if I can't hunt down a specific attribution later. But ah, this one spoke to my heart this evening. Or my heart spoke it.)

The Start of the Lenten Journey

2011-03-09T20:26:00.004-05:00

So many years Lent sneaks up on me. It usually begins sometime in February, and I hardly ever feel completely prepared to begin the journey. This year the start of Lent comes just about as late as it possibly can, given the late date of Easter. And I still found myself not prepared.

I'm not sure what my excuse is this year (or if I need one) but I do know I'm tired. I've spent some time in the past couple of days looking at Lenten resources online, reading some excellent blog posts and articles, and thinking about how I hoped to approach this Lenten season, individually and as a family.

And in the end, I realized something...even if I'm not at all "ready," even if I don't have neat lists, calendars, posters, devotional materials, etc., all lined up and ready to go, it doesn't really matter. Because if I'm open to his forgiveness and his hand, God can do the work he wants to do in my heart, in our hearts. And it will be quiet work, maybe even hidden work. And because it's God's work, it will be good.

So this year's Lenten plans are very simple. Instead of searching high and low for reading materials, I decided to continue the spiritual reading I'm already doing in Dietrich Bonhoeffer's Life Together. I've also set myself the goal of reading and praying through the entire Psalter between now and Easter. I may post some thoughts, from time to time -- so you can expect some Psalm-drenched reflections over the next few weeks.

And for our family? We brought out the Lenten candle (a round candle with space for a tea-light, the wax painted with a desert scene -- this is a candle given to me by a dear friend years ago, and we use it every year) and we're listening to songs from Michael Card's Starkindler. We'll read one of the daily Scripture readings each day as a family, most usually the gospel. I also brought out a fresh, brand-new notebook, its pages completely empty, for us to use as a family prayer and praise notebook. The sweet girl decorated the cover with the picture of a simple cross and the words "God Loves Us." We've agreed that during the Lenten season, any of us can write, draw, or paste any prayers or praises in the notebook that we feel called to put there. We started tonight by pasting in a picture of a refugee family in Haiti -- a photograph that moved me to tears yesterday, and moved the sweet girl and all of us to prayer.

I'm working on a small "giving up" area in my life, and the sweet girl has expressed an interest in learning more about fasting (we're starting by having her give up a snack time). We're also joining our church's usual almsgiving project by filling a baby bottle with coins for a local crisis pregnancy center.

And that's Lent this year. Simple and homemade but what I feel called to. Of course, God is always a God of surprises!

A blessed Ash Wednesday! Following St. Ambrose, may the Lord give you a heart to love and adore him, delight in him, follow and enjoy him.

Crocus Sighting

2011-03-08T16:35:00.003-05:00

Twenty-two crocuses make my heart sing.
Their small purple cups set the table for spring.

EMP 3/8/11

This could get to be a habit. I posted a spring snippet last year when we saw our first crocuses. Nineteen of them that time, and spotted on March 11. We're three days earlier this year, and spotted three more flowers. Somehow that feels like a cheering sign!

"But God Meant It For Good"

2011-03-07T10:40:00.004-05:00

And as for you, you meant evil against me,
but God meant it for good
in order to bring about this present result,
to preserve many people alive.
~Genesis 50:20

That's the verse we're focusing on in learning time this week. It was playing in the background while I was cleaning up the kitchen this morning, and as I sang it, I found myself pondering it anew.

We often think of this verse coming in the context of Joseph's story, and it does, of course, though not precisely where I tend to place it in my mind. I tend to think of Joseph saying this to his brothers during their initial reconciliation. But he doesn't -- it comes much later, after the death of their father Jacob. Because it turns out that Joseph's brothers, even after all that time and even after their brother forgave them, are still worried that he might yet move into vengeful mode and pay them back for all those years of suffering he endured in Egypt. Even after all the weeping, kissing and caretaking Joseph's done in the preceding years, they're afraid once their father is gone, all bets are off.

Isn't this just like us? Even forgiven -- even assured of loving care, protection, friendship, GRACE -- all the things we don't deserve, we still sometimes go running back to the shadows of our sin. We're sure those shadows are long, way longer than the grace that's been extending over us. We're sure somehow that those old sins are going to find us out one last time and give us one more good kick in the teeth.

Joseph's words, which are so wise, also give us a glimpse into how much his heart has grown. Not only does he point to God's sovereignty, a lesson he learned in the trenches (and a lesson that took many years to reach full fruition) but he shows how very different he is from the teenager who stood before his brothers telling them about his dreams. Let's face it, the young Joseph was a bit of a braggart. He didn't deserve to be thrown into a cistern and sold as a slave, no, but his brothers' frustration, annoyance and jealousy of him is at least somewhat understandable. "Hey, cool! One day you're all going to bow down to me!" is pretty much the reading I take away from the young Joseph's initial telling of the dream. Of course the fact that he dreamed true (a gift from God) is only part of the story -- he couldn't possibly have imagined why his brothers would be bowing before him, or how it was all part of God's tapestry to save his people.

But here, older and wiser Joseph, assuring his brothers once again of his pardon and forgiveness, teaching them about God's sovereignty over their collective story, shows a deep humility. "Am I in the place of God?" he asks. It's a telling question, not only because it shows that Joseph's understands vengeance, grace, forgiveness ultimately belong to the Lord, but because it shows that Joseph is no longer dreaming about how awesome it would be to stand in that place -- to be the one receiving homage and worship. He knows now that whatever place God puts him in, even one of tremendous responsibility and power, is derived -- a place given to him by God, and for deeper reasons than he himself might possibly imagine.

Poetry Friday: Da Vinci's Parachute

2011-03-04T12:24:00.004-05:00

I was on a website the other day that had one of those calendars with days you can celebrate in March. I was chuckling over some of the funny things that people celebrate when I was brought up short by the notation for March 5. It read: "the invention of the parachute: Da Vinci."

Many, many years before what many people consider the actual invention of the parachute, Leonardo Da Vinci sketched his ideas for a parachute in one of his notebooks. And 11 years ago a British man actually dropped from a balloon, about 10,000 feet above the ground, using a parachute made from Da Vinci's design (and using materials, canvas and wood, that would have been available in Da Vinci's day). I remember reading about this, not long after it happened, in a scientific magazine I picked up at a library sale. You can read a brief news article about the event here. It includes the line that still captures my imagination: "It works, and everyone thought it wouldn't."

I bring this story up on Poetry Friday as a prelude to the poem I wrote not long after first reading that inspiring news story. I hope it captures your imagination too.

Da Vinci’s Parachute

They laughed when I took to the sky
buoyed by outmoded invention.
Sheltered by a five hundred year old idea
finally fleshed
in canvas and rope,
I jumped, caught the air,
and dangled
over undulating brown-grey hills.
I did not look down for long.
Upheld by ancient design,
my face turned upward in awe,
I held my breath.
For a moment I was the scribbled sketch
in the margin of Leonardo’s imaginings,
buffeted across the pages of time,
my body, my faith
sustained by the heavy sphinx-like tent
ballooned above.
The tent held true
and I drifted down
lines taut, then slack
in a dance of purposeful pulling.
And true is true.
Lines clear and pure.
Did you not think
the old ways would hold
in these new winds?
Watch me fall
and think again.

~EMP (all rights reserved)

Today's poetry roundup can be found at The Small Nouns.

Happy Birthday Dr. Seuss

2011-03-02T10:11:00.004-05:00

It's the birthday of Theodor Geisel (aka Dr. Seuss, 1904-1991). Our family loves Dr. Seuss books and I've enjoyed reviewing a number of them over the years. So in honor of the day, I thought I'd post a few links.

One of our very favorites is There's a Wocket in my Pocket. When the sweet girl was little, she once informed me, after changing into her pajamas, that the wocket was now in the clothes hamper!

Dr. Seuss also wrote one of the most unique ABC books ever. And even the tried and true bedtime book gets his highly creative touch in The Sleep Book.

I love the fact that Dr. Seuss can use his imagination to pay tribute to...imagination! Oh, The Thinks You Can Think! is one of my very favorite Seuss titles.

And I still retain a great fondness for Hop on Pop, one of the first books our daughter ever read on her own when she was nearing the grand age of five. I have days when I really miss our sojourn in three-letter word land.

Whom Do We Serve?

2011-03-01T14:15:00.002-05:00

"Our king is Jesus, not time; we serve him, not it."

This from our friend Travis, who serves along with his family as a missionary/teacher in Uganda.

Our family so needed to hear this yesterday. I think we probably need to hear it every day!

Passing it along, in case you need to hear it too...

Poetry Friday: "O Frabjous Day!"

2011-02-25T10:37:00.004-05:00

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"

My husband, an amateur actor, loves to recite these lines (and all the rest of them) from Lewis Carroll's remarkable poem "Jabberwocky." People who only know my husband's everyday persona -- gentle, shy -- are often astounded into silence when they first get a glimpse of his confident, humorous acting persona. I've long since reconciled the two parts of his personality, loving them both, but I still delight in seeing jaws drop when my husband moves into actor mode. It's one reason I enjoy this poem so much.

And now here's another...the other day I came across this delightful ASL version of the poem. "O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!" I must confess I have never heard of ASL poetry until recently, and I am completely fascinated. It seems to combine all sorts of skills: poetry making, translation, performance art.

Today's poetry roundup is at Read Write Believe.

Language Arts Laughter

2011-02-23T09:23:00.003-05:00

Yesterday we did a language arts lesson about punctuating direct quotations. One of the optional activities involved reading pairs of sentences that have the same words, but different punctuation -- the point being that punctuation matters to the meaning of the sentence.

Although she punctuates well, apparently this had never fully occurred to the sweet girl -- that one little comma or a pair of quotation marks can make all the difference in how one reads or understands a sentence. She thought it was hilarious!

The children cried today.
The children cried, "Today!"

I thought she was going to fall off the couch she laughed so hard.

Her favorite pair, however, were these two sentences, which I read with great flair and drama:

The duke declared I am now the king!
The duke declared, "I am now the king!"

She thought it was hysterical that I was reading those words. She loves to play with literal meanings. What a silly duke, she teased me, to declare *me* the king -- he should have noticed I was a girl and therefore declared me a queen.

She told her dad all about the lesson last night. And then she got out a piece of paper and wrote with a flourish:

Dear Duke
I think somebody should teach you how to puckcheate.
Love S

Reminding me, of course, that we need to tackle the spelling of punctuate. And where to put commas when writing letters. But mostly making me laugh.

I think we have "Eats, Shoots, and Leaves" in our future.

The Power of Stories

2011-02-22T12:25:00.003-05:00

I love reading stories about stories. That is, I love reading stories about the way stories affect people's lives, both as readers and writers.

I stumbled upon two of those I thoroughly enjoyed yesterday. I recognized my reader/writer self in both.

The first was in yesterday's entry from Anita Silvey's Children's Book-a-Day Almanac. If you haven't checked that website out yet, you're in for a treat.

Yesterday's entry was, fittingly, about a children's biography of Lincoln. It's one I haven't read yet but now plan to. What struck me about her description of the book was this piece of an anecdote about her first read-through of the book:

The first time I read this book, I was flying to Washington, D.C., to give a speech. When I came to the end, I was sobbing, and the attendant came to me and said, “Miss, is anything wrong?” “Oh yes,” I blurted out, "Lincoln has been shot!”

Yes! The best stories pull us into their narrative with that sense of immediacy. It doesn't matter how old a grief is, we experience it anew as we walk through it again. It's one reason why I often feel bereft when I've finished a truly great biography, because I've just spent a season in the company of someone I've come to love and admire (or understand more deeply) and usually I've walked through their death toward the end of the tale. Sometimes the juxtaposition of living through a life and death, so close together, can leave you a bit breathless. Or in tears on an airplane.

Then there was this bit from a book I'm reading about the life and work of Katherine Paterson. I stumbled upon it when looking for other books by Gary Schmidt; I think it might be his first book and might even have started life as a dissertation. I confess I am becoming a huge fan of Gary Schmidt's (I'll save that for another post) and of course I've been a great enthusiast about Kat Paterson's work since I was twenty. So the combination of author/subject was too good to pass up.

In the introductory essay, Schmidt is exploring Paterson's childhood, and how she was deeply affected by her family's many moves. Her parents were missionaries in China during a time of great tumult there, and they kept yo-yo'ing back and forth between the States and China. Paterson had been born in China and spent her first five years there, and was in many ways more deeply at home in Chinese culture than American culture. When they moved to Virginia in 1937, not long before she began school, she recalled how much she hated it and how terribly displaced she felt.

"When I was in the first grade I didn't get any valentines. I don't think I was disliked. I was totally overlooked," he quotes Paterson as saying. And then Schmidt goes on to say "This incident, too, was to become part of the gathering of stories: 'My mother grieved over this event until her death,' (he quotes Paterson again) "asking me once why I didn't write a story about the time I didn't get any valentines. 'But mother,' I said, 'all my stories are about the time I didn't get any valentines.'"

I had a lump in my throat at the end of that line. It not only rings so deeply true to the best of Katherine Paterson's work (she writes more eloquently of displacement and childhood longing than almost anyone I know) but it rings true to my writer's heart. I suspect there are certain formative moments in most of our childhoods, some of them joyous and some sad and lonely, which we are always writing "out of" no matter what else we're writing. We don't have to describe an actual event or memory to have that moment at the back of what we're doing in a story.

I'd like to spend more time with the Paterson book (and Schmidt) in another post. And maybe more time thinking through what sorts of moments are the formative fountains of my own stories. I'll bet you have some of those moments too.

Notes from a Reading Life: Alcuin of York

2011-02-16T23:34:00.004-05:00

So....I'm tired. You can probably tell by the paucity of my posts here lately. Or maybe you are imagining me living a life of leisure, eating bon-bons and reading mystery novels. (Not! But doesn't that sound nice?)

In the midst of a crazy-busy life, I am doing a lot of reading. Some of it by necessity, since I'm assisting this term in three sections of a course in Medieval and Reformation Church History. The prof. I'm assisting sometimes piles on the primary source readings for our students, giving them the option to choose which sources they read according to what ressourcement lens they're working with (theology, worship or catechesis). But since I'm supposed to be responding to papers across all levels in the online section, I'm trying (note I said trying) to keep up with reading across all three tracks.

Since I often don't have time until late in the evening to tackle this reading, sometimes it feels like physical plowing. Read a few pages, get up and stretch and try to wake up. Read a few more pages, pop a hershey's kiss after unwrapping it from is pink foil blanket (ha! see, you were right...I *am* eating bon-bons). Listen to some lecture bits, record a few quiz grades, check in on facebook. Then back to the primary source readings, where I plow further ahead, trying to keep those furrows straight (that would be the furrows on my brow, as I try to exercise a very tired brain that's spent the day helping my third grader parse sentences, or figuring out what to cook for dinner, or answering missions committee related email, or mostly likely all three things at once...)

So though I am reading great quantities, I don't often have time for huge a-ha moments. I'm more in scribble-like-crazy-in-the-margins mode, or put-a-really-big- asterisk-next-to-this-important-thought and hope I'll be able to find it again mode.

So it's lovely when something I'm reading stops me in my tracks. Such was the case with Alcuin of York this evening.

Alcuin lived mostly in the eighth century (730 -804). He was Northumbrian by birth, influenced by the world of Bede, but he spent a lot of his life on the continent, where he became an important teacher/administrator/liturgist/writer in the court of Charlemagne. I could have gone on listing things he did, you get the drift. This was an important man whose thinking, writing, praying and teaching lay a lot of the groundwork for later medieval thought and practice.

He was also a poet. Do you know how blessed and happy it made my right-brain to happen upon his poetry in the midst of a long night of left-brain activity? Especially when I came across lines like these:

"Teach us faith, awaken hope, and fill us with love.
Give me the purity that comes from you and cannot come from me,
That I make forsake earth and seek heaven.
My soft plumage is weak without your help:
Grant me the wings of faith that I may fly upwards to you:
For I confess faith in you, through you and from you.

I confess that you are one in substance and Trinity in persons:
You are always the same, alive and all comprehending.
I confess the three in one and the one in three --
The Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit: O blessed Trinity.
You are God, the Lord, and the Paraclete.
You are love, grace and communion:
For God is love, Christ is grace, and the Holy Spirit is communion:
Begetter, begotten and regenerator: O blessed Trinity.

The true Light, true Light from Light, and the Illuminator:
The fountain, the river and the refreshing stream:
All things are from one, through one and in one: O blessed Trinity."

I confess my heart soared (on wings of faith!) when I read these words. My tired eyes snapped open, my heart stood to attention and saluted. I fell into the words like someone who did indeed need to step into a refreshing stream. O Lord, I so need the language of poetry and prayer.

This is why -- and I say it as I've said it to students of all ages and stages over the years -- this is why it's so important that we spend time reading for formation and not just information. This is why we need the language of prayer and poetry and not just analytical prose (as much as I can delight in well-written history, biography, theology). Once in a while, we need to step out of words (even really good ones) that are written *about* and step into words that are *addressed to* the Word. We need to step out of mere thinking and into full-bodied, full-brained, full-hearted worship.

Neck-Skinny

2011-02-16T14:08:00.003-05:00

I think we've got a new word for "very loved" at our house. The sweet girl coined it yesterday. It's "neck-skinny."

She's been playing a lot lately with some stuffed dog toys, including one we found last year at a church sale with some other used stuffed toys. It's an adorable dog, light brown with a red collar and floppy ears. Its fur is slightly worn in that loved way only an old stuffed animal can be. And its neck, underneath the red collar, is extra floppy -- mostly because it looks as though he once spent a lot of time getting his neck squeezed.

The sweet girl hugged him fondly yesterday. "He's all neck-skinny," she told me. "You know, really loved so really squeezed hard around the neck."

The Valentine Mailbox

2011-02-14T12:46:00.003-05:00

In a little while, my dear husband will be home for lunch, and our family will commence to open the valentine mailbox.

Yes: THE Valentine Mailbox. Your family may have one -- and I'm sure it's a lovely one -- but our family has THE mailbox.

It's the one my dad made for my family when I was a little girl. His printing company was doing some sort of advertisement for the post office so the front looks like the front of an actual mailbox from my childhood (complete with "zippy" the little zip code guy...remember him?). The box itself is an old flat kodak film box, reinforced with tape. It opens for easy mail distribution, but Dad also put a slit in the front so you can slide the cards in.

When the sweet girl was tiny, my folks passed the mailbox on to us. We have loved it and every year fill it with homemade Valentines (and sometimes a few store-bought, but those aren't the main attraction) to give to each other. This year the sweet girl begged to get it out a couple of weeks early, so she's been stuffing it for a while. It's going to be fun to see all the homemade love that spills out.

I've been so swamped that I didn't have a chance to make my beloved's card until a little while ago. While the sweet girl moaned through some math ("products again!? why do I have to do products?") I gathered scissors, glue stick, colorful scraps of paper, a magazine, a computer graphic I liked, and a velveteen bag of crayon rocks. It's amazing what simple things you can use to say I love you.

Happy Land

2011-02-11T12:17:00.004-05:00

At the end of this hard week, how wonderful was it to open up a musical treasure from the library hold shelf? This morning we played songs from Happy Land: Musical Tributes to Laura Ingalls Wilder. I was entranced as these wonderful songs (all of them referenced in the Little House books) rolled out of the player, some of them sounding just like I imagined them sounding when played by Pa Ingalls. A few I know from other sources, but many I only know because of "hearing" Pa play and sing them in the books.

Dancing in the kitchen to "Arkansas Traveler" with my husband at lunchtime, inventing harmonies for the "Sweet By and By" while listening with the sweet girl this morning...I just really needed this today. Beautiful fiddle music, beautiful bright bits of Americana.

You can see the disc I'm talking about here.

And oh, I needed the old-time hymns especially. Doesn't this lyric make your heart soar?

To our bountiful Father above, we will offer the tribute of praise;
For the glorious gift of His Love, and the blessings that hallow our days.
In the sweet by and by, we shall meet on that beautiful shore.
In the sweet by and by, we shall meet on that beautiful shore.

(Joseph Philbrick Webster - tune; Sanford Fillmore Bennett - words)

Long Overdue Post...in All Sorts of Ways

2011-02-07T09:27:00.005-05:00

I didn't mean to fall off the face of the blogging world. It's just been a challenging and busy couple of weeks here at semester's beginning. Lots going on work-wise, but even more going on in our family and in my struggling heart. More about some of that later.

I realized today I was long overdue to write a blog post, and even more overdue to write a gratitude post. It's a multitude Monday! Given the levels of stress I've been experiencing (and surrendering over and over) in recent days, I know the "counting blessings" exercise is more important than ever. So here goes...

107. We weathered January. And we did "weather" it in almost every sense of the word!

108. Some recent email exchanges, cards and notes with/from farflung friends. These have been a bigger source of encouragement than probably most of them know.

109. Eric Metaxas' wonderful biography of Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Speaking of overdue posts...I am now many days overdue wanting to write about this deeply moving book.

110. My precious husband. As we go through hard times together, I am daily reminded of how much I love him...and all the many reasons why.

111. Music that's good for the weary soul. Desplat's Deathly Hallows score; Mahler's 7th; Jeff Johnson's Frio Suite; Patsy Cline.

112. Literary birthdays, which help add fun and celebration to ordinary days. Today we get both Laura Ingalls Wilder and Charles Dickens!

113. The continued sustaining of my dad's health.

114. My niece's beautiful January wedding...and the wonder of being able to see so photos so quickly after (one of those Facebook blessings).

I can't seem to find the Multitude Monday logo, but I did find this old photo I took a few years ago..and one that seems appropriate for counting blessings. Yes, that's the sweet girl's little hand in the sunlight - I remember those snowmen pajamas! I think she must have been around four or five when I took this picture.

Favorite Books of 2010

2011-01-27T13:15:00.006-05:00

I determined to post my list of favorite books earlier this year -- last year I didn’t get the post up until February 1! If last year was “the year of the re-read,” this was probably best described as “the year of the biography” because I read some good ones.

I think 2010 was one of the spottiest reading years I’ve had in ages. It wasn’t that I didn’t read a lot – I always do – but 2010 truly was the busiest year I can ever remember in my entire life (even including 5th grade which, at the wise old age of ten, I thought I’d never top). All humor aside, I spent a lot of the past year feeling stretched and exhausted. Reading was a real refuge, but somehow the tiredness lurking in the background made it more challenging than usual to see patterns in my reading or to note reading trails. I have a feeling this list may feel more fragmented than usual, but here goes. Links are to my reviews on Epinions.

Favorite History Book of the Year: Introducing Early Christianity by Laurie Guy. Rarely indeed do I choose a text book I’ve taught from as a favorite on my personal reading list, but this book was such a delight both to read and to see students engage. Helpful, readable, basic but never boring. Excellent grounding for any study of patristic history and theology.

Favorite Children’s Biography of the Year: Wilma Unlimited: How Wilma Rudolph Became the World’s Fastest Runner by Kathleen Krull, illustrations by David Diaz. I don’t think the sweet girl has ever been more inspired by a biography.

Favorite Biography of the Year: This is a hard call, only because I read several good ones, including biographies of two of my favorite writers, Alcott and Austen. But I’m going with Eric Metaxas’ Amazing Grace: William Wilberforce and the Heroic Campaign to End Slavery. Yes, I know I’m behind…this was the year Metaxas brought out his huge book on Bonhoeffer (which I’m currently reading) but I just now got around to his book on Wilberforce, and oh I’m glad I did.

Picture Book Author of the Year: Mo Willems. Hands down. Though my eight year old is finally starting to move away from total devotion to picture books (weep, weep) our whole family fell in love with Mo, especially his Pigeon books and especially Knuffle Bunny.

Best Devotional Book: I really didn’t read one straight through this year (and think I need to remedy that in 2011). Many blogs functioned as devotional material for me, however, and I did read often from A Year With C.S. Lewis, a daybook of quotations mostly from Lewis’ non-fiction.

Best Novel I Read This Year: Emma, by Jane Austen. Which is cheating, because it’s a re-read. I will cheat even further and say, as a close runner-up, The Wheel on the School by Meindert DeJong, which is actually a mid-grade novel (and I have a separate category for that below...where I'll choose something else because it's really a tie between Wheel and that one). And hmmm...how did I miss reviewing either of these favorite novels this year?

Best Novel I Re-Read This Year: So as not to bore you by saying Emma again, I’ll go with Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None.

Favorite Book of Literary Analysis/Criticism: Talking About Detective Fiction by P.D. James. I’m stretching a little here too, as this wasn’t a deeply analytical book. But James did a marvelous job of unpacking the history of the detective writing genre and thoughtfully considering its present and possible future.

Best “pop culture” book: no award this year.

Favorite “new to me” children’s book, mid-grade reader (8-12 year olds): A Single Shard by Linda Sue Park.

Favorite “new to me” young adult book (12-15 year olds): The Sherwood Ring by Elizabeth Marie Pope.

Best Children’s Book I Re-Read This Year: I honestly can’t choose. We’re doing so many wonderful (and long beloved) favorites with the sweet girl during family read-aloud time. The Long Winter and The Magician’s Nephew were the best re-reads of the year for me -- books I love that read aloud so beautifully. I also thoroughly enjoyed re-reading The Great Gilly Hopkins (on my own) and reviewing it for banned books week.

Classic Book I Can’t Believe I’d Never Read Before Now: On the Incarnation by St. Athanasius

Favorite “new to me” picture book: Knuffle Bunny Free by Mo Willems. (As Larry the Cucumber might say: “I laughed. I cried. It moved me, Bob.”)

Book I Wish I Hadn’t Wasted My Time Reading: None really, but I do wish I’d found some other mystery writers in the summer besides Katherine Hall Page. I like her work, but it feels quite uneven.

Book I Should Have Finished (and still plan to): Hmm…I’m sure there are a lot of unfinished books in my piles, but I can’t think of one I’m particularly stuck in.

The Book That Surprised Me The Most: When You Reach Me by Rebecca Stead

The Book That Made Me Laugh the Most: Oh my goodness, I didn’t read anything really funny! Must remedy that this year. (I almost listed the graphic novel version of Pride and Prejudice, but those laughs were mostly unintentional, so I don’t think I’ll count it.)

Book That Challenged Me the Most: Amazing Grace: William Wilberforce and the Heroic Campaign to End Slavery by Eric Metaxas

Favorite “new to me” mystery writer: G.M. Malliet.

Favorite “new to me” fantasy writer: N.D. Wilson

Favorite “new to me” Spiritual Resource or Bible for Children: none this year, as we used a lot of resources we already knew and loved. But we’re already using new devotional resources in 2011 (and the sweet girl has a new Bible this year as well) so I suspect this category will be interesting to reflect on next year.

Favorite Book of Theological Reflections: Athanasius’ On the Incarnation

Favorite Book of Church History Reflections: The Changing Shape of Church History by Justo Gonzalez

Favorite Poetry: The Trouble With Poetry by Billy Collins

Poetry Friday: Cynthia in the Snow

2011-01-21T13:56:00.003-05:00

In honor of the beautiful snowfall we had yesterday, and the season in general, I thought I'd share Gwendolyn Brooks' poem "Cynthia in the Snow." I have many favorite snowy poems, but this pops into my head frequently when I'm looking at a snowy city street, especially the first musical line. "Sushes" is such a perfect word to capture that sense of blanketed quiet. The whole poem has that sense of being "just right."

Cynthia in the Snow

It SUSHES.
It hushes
The loudness in the road.
It flitter-twitters,
And laughs away from me.
It laughs a lovely whiteness,
And whitely whirs away,
To be
Some otherwhere,
Still white as milk or shirts.
So beautiful it hurts.

~Gwendolyn Brooks

Happy Poetry Friday! The roundup today is at A Teaching Life.

Stephen Foster and the Rare Library Fail

2011-01-21T12:51:00.003-05:00

My gratitude for public libraries is immense. I'm particularly grateful that we live within several miles of a public library that ties into the Carnegie library system, which has to be one of the best in the country. I love that I can find most (not all, mind you, but most) of the resources and books I go looking for, put a request through via computer, and within several days (or a little longer depending on popularity) have that resource hit the shelf.

I honestly don't know how anyone homeschooling (on a nonexistent budget or elsewise) gets along without libraries. We use the library for everything we study, from science to history to art and music, and lots more besides. One thing I love about exploring the library system is that I often turn up resources I never knew existed. We've fallen in love with many a book or recording that I just happened to stumble upon while looking for something else.

I've gotten so used to that serendipity and to the library's impeccable service that I'm astonished when a little glitch, or a little human error, creeps into the system. Take today, for example...

Friday is art and music day, and I was excited to be introducing the sweet girl to composer Stephen Foster today. He not only wrote some of the most memorable American folksongs, he's from our area. And (as a cherry on the sundae topping) while scrolling for library resources I'd found a version of his "O Susanna!" on the CD The Arkansas Traveler by a group called Pa's Fiddle Band.

Yes, that Pa. And yes, that Fiddle. This group apparently has three CDs out, all recordings of music from Laura Ingalls Wilder's wonderful Little House series. Given the sweet girl's love of all things Wilder right now, and the fact that we just last night finished the last page of These Happy Golden Years ("THAT was the BEST BOOK EVER" she pronounced, with her hand over her heart) I was really excited to introduce Foster by way of this CD. In fact, I gave it a really big build up (not something I usually do) before I opened the case with a flourish and...

discovered that the CD inside the case was a copy of Puccini's La Boheme.

After the requisite weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth, we settled down to enjoy some other Foster music I had happily picked up. (It's amazing to listen to his work and to realize how many of these melodies have seeped into your consciousness over the years.) I'll return the CD to our library this week, so they can send it back to the lending library that provided it, hopefully with a note for them to check their Puccini. I'm hoping it's a case of simple mix-up and we can still check out Pa's Fiddle Band.

Meanwhile, I'll keep being grateful that mistakes like that are rare, and try not to take our library system for granted!

The Art of Biography, the Art of the Quote

2011-01-19T12:46:00.005-05:00

A few days ago I started reading Eric Metaxas' biography of Dietrich Bonhoeffer. It's been on my reading list for months, but I purposefully held off until January because I knew I would need to a book like this to fall into during the hardest, cold days of winter.

And I knew I would "fall into" this book. At least I would if it was anything like my experience with Metaxas' other well-known biography of William Wilberforce, a book I almost literally couldn't put down.

Good biographies, the kind that make you feel as though you've been in the subject's company, are some of my favorite reads. Metaxas seems to have mastered the art of telling a life in a way that's colorful, compelling and thoughtful. As I read Bonhoeffer, I keep trying to put my finger on what exactly makes up the art of good biography. I'm still working that out in my mind. But one thing that struck me yesterday was that a masterful biographer knows the value and artistry of a good quote.

A "good quote" can have different types of qualities (or a mixture): one that shows depth of research, one that feels particularly well-placed within the narrative, one that reveals something you never knew or stopped to consider about the subject, or one that looks small and commonplace on the surface but in consideration of the whole of the subject's life, offers a poignant phrase or line that feels weighted with more meaning that its original intentions.

That last jumped out at me yesterday as I was reading about the Bonhoeffer family's great love of music, and how the young Bonhoeffer had a real genius for music. Metaxas cited a quote from Dietrich's twin sister Sabine to make note that he was an "especially sensitive and generous" accompanist. And then he quoted Dietrich's future sister-in-law:

"While we were playing, Dietrich at the piano kept us all in order. I do not remember a moment when he did not know where each of us was. He never just played his own part: from the beginning he heard the whole of it. If the cello took a long time tuning beforehand, or between movements, he sank his head and didn't betray the slightest impatience. He was courteous by nature."

"He never just played his own part: from the beginning he heard the whole of it." A line that makes beautiful sense in context -- can't you just picture the young blond-haired man at the piano, keeping time, patiently observing and waiting for the others, helping them all to pull their music making into coherence and beauty? The whole vignette wonderfully captures something essential about Bonhoeffer's personality, something people never forgot. But that one line also seems to ring with deeper resonance when you consider Bonhoeffer's life as a whole.

And maybe that vignette offers a good analogy for what a biographer, at his best, does: he listens to snippets of music, played at or sung about a person's life, from very different places and voices. And he brings them all together into a harmonious whole that helps you to not only appreciate the snippets, but the entire composition of someone's life.

January Supplemental Reading for Homeschool

2011-01-18T13:55:00.005-05:00

Supplemental reading/resources we've used so far this month:

Language Arts

If You Were Onomatopoeia
by Trisha Speed Shaskan

A fun picture book introducing the poetic concept of onomatopoeia. We also read Gwendolyn Brooks' wonderful poem "Cynthia in the Snow."

History

Can't You Make Them Behave, King George?
by Jean Fritz

Longer picture book filled with lots of fun details about the utterly eccentric King George. Good background for American Revolution studies.

Betsy Ross and the Silver Thimble
by Stephanie Green

Early Reader (level 2) read independently by S. Part of the "Childhood of Famous Americans" series.

Martin Luther King Jr. Day
by Reagan Miller

A serviceable book about MLK and how we came to honor his memory with a federal holiday. We usually read a book about King on his day, and this year I had forgotten to put one on hold, so I had to take what I could get. I continue to recommend the wonderful book My Brother Martin by Christine King Farris.

Much better than the MLK book we read this year were the excerpts I read aloud to the sweet girl from the "I Have a Dream" speech. A really hard speech to read without tears.

Fine Arts

How Artists See the Weather
by Colleen Carroll

A really nice book to encourage picture study. Review forthcoming. We'll do more from this series.

We've also been inspired by Jon J. Muth's wonderful illustrations in City Dog, Country Frog (written by Mo Willems). I hope to post some pictures soon of our Muth-inspired art.

Math

Reviewing with Mathtacular 2 (DVD arrived last week...yay!)

S. has also been enjoying some time with "100 Ways to Count to 100." She really digs that she "gets" the pages that use division now.

Science

What's the Matter in Mr. Whisker's Room?
by Michael Elsohn Ross
illustrated by Paul Meisel

A fun picture book in which a creative teacher, Mr. Whiskers (a bit less zany than Ms. Frizzle!) sets up science stations in his early elementary classroom for the kids to explore. He presents several "big ideas" about matter, based on their questions and findings.

(Edited at end of month to add other resources)

Haiti is on my Heart

2011-01-13T23:58:00.002-05:00

It's been a year since the earthquake in Haiti.

I was remembering this post I did last year, all my whirling thoughts as I attempted both to process the tragedy and share about it with my little girl.

For a long time -- months, in fact -- we prayed nightly for Haiti. As other countries went through earthquakes and hurricanes, we added them to our nightly litany. For a long time, the sweet girl would not let us forget to pray for the people of these countries, and especially for Haiti.

But time marched on, and somehow...we forgot. All of us. We still prayed for Haiti sometimes. We still talked about the earthquake sometimes, especially when we read reports from places like Compassion as they reflected on rebuilding and recovery. But we did not pray faithfully each night.

And now a year has gone by and I'm reading and thinking and pondering again. The sweet girl and I spent a long time at dinner talking about Haiti and being grateful for our blessings.

Haiti is on our hearts again, and I'm praying this time we won't let it slip back out so easily.

Of all I've read in the past couple of days, this article is perhaps the one that has moved me most deeply. If you have a chance, read it prayerfully: "A Strange Land Where the Poor Are Rich and the Suffering Sing."

Lord have mercy on the people of Haiti. And Lord, do not let us forget.

Favorite Picture Books of 2010 (and Newbery & Caldecott Winners!)

2011-01-10T09:31:00.007-05:00

ETA: Well, this is embarrassing! Somewhere I got the date wrong...and thought that the Newbery and Caldecott awards were being given *next* week. So this post I just put up this morning was partly my speculation over what might win the Caldecott this year. I just realized, however, the awards are out today. I've not peeked yet, but am off to do so now...

Well, shows what I know! Congratulations to the Caldecott Medal winner for 2011: A Sick Day for Amos McGee illustrated by Erin S. Stead, and to the 2011 Newbery winner: Moon Over Manifest by Clare Vanderpool.

And please kindly disregard my belated speculation and just read this post in its main spirit: a short list of some of our family's favorite picture books published in 2010. Links are to my longer reviews on Epinions.

~All Things Bright and Beautiful illustrated by Ashley Bryan

Vibrant colors and beautiful paper collage accompany the old hymn text by Cecil F. Alexander. This one came out in early 2010, but we remember it well (though it's been months since we've had it out of the library). We recently thought of it again and are hoping to do some Bryan inspired collage art soon.

~City Dog, Country Frog by Mo Willems, illustrated by Jon J. Muth

One of our favorite picture book author-artists, Mo Willems, handles the writing in this one, while the delicate water color illustrations are done by the wonderful Jon J. Muth. A winning combination, and a poignant book about friendship.

~A Nest for Celeste by Henry Cole

A wonderful look into the life and works of John James Audubon. We loved using this as a companion for our Audubon studies (and we loved Audubon so much that we're probably going back to him this spring, when the birds arrive back.)

I'm cheating just a tiny bit with the inclusion of this book. It's actually a mid-grade novel, but the plethora of beautiful pencil sketches do so much to help tell the story. So much so that I wonder if it will not get some attention from the Caldecott committee despite the fact that they tend to favor standard picture books. Hugo Cabret showed they can go this route, so we'll see.

~Mirror, Mirror: A Book of Reversible Verse by Marilyn Singer, illustrated by Josee Masse

An amazing book...creative poetry (in the "reverso" form created by Singer) and gorgeous pictures that play with symmetry and shared borders and shapes. I've been seeing a lot of people talk about this book lately...we fell in love with it early in the fall.

~Knuffle Bunny Free by Mo Willems

Can Willems be given a Caldecott Medal for a series, a la Peter Jackson's Oscar for the third Lord of the Rings film? He's already taken home Caldecott honors for Knuffle Bunny and Knuffle Bunny Too. This third and final installment is an absolutely amazing, age-appropriate ending to these books. We've watched Trixie grow and change from toddler to preschooler and now elementary aged girl, her responses so perfectly authentic every time, her passion, love and excitement for life (and for Knuffle Bunny) shining through every page. Kudos to Willems for using the picture book format to really tell an ongoing story with a great depth of character development in our heroine. This last book (which literally made me both laugh and cry) was so perfect for our eight year old right now. It celebrates growing up, giving deep, and how small acts of measured, loving kindness can be truly courageous.

We loved a lot of picture books this year, but these were some of our very favorites published in 2010.

Reader Girl in January

2011-01-06T12:25:00.002-05:00

The sweet girl announced at breakfast this morning: "Hot chocolate, warm cinnamon toast, and The Long Winter. Those are my goals for today."

Good, attainable goals. And a reader girl after my own heart.

Happy Epiphany!