Hooray for Harry!

Well, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (so nice to see it written with its proper title) came in today at #3 in Fuse #8's Top 100 Children's Novels poll. I had to give it a shout-out here because I was so delighted to see it!

With The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe coming in at #4 yesterday, I am 2 for 2 on my top four predictions, though now a bit out of order. My American/British pattern didn't pan out, but that's okay. It will be fun to see both A Wrinkle in Time and Charlotte's Web in the top two spots (she says with supreme confidence...while she keeps her fingers crossed)!

It's also fun to read people's comments about Harry Potter. Everyone seems nostalgic to remember where they were when they read the first one. When you first fell for Harry, where were you?

Poetry Review: The Mouse of Amherst

I just posted a review of Elizabeth Spire's book The Mouse of Amherst. It's a charming tale told through the eyes of a little white mouse who lives in a hole in the wall in Emily Dickinson's room.

It's been an Emily Dickinson kind of month. With the sweet girl, I read the Emily Dickinson volume in the Poetry for Young People series. Late in the evenings, a bit at a time, I've been watching a video version of Julie Harris' one-woman play The Belle of Amherst, recorded sometime in the late 1970s, I think. It's a fascinating (somehow both funny and sad) portrait of the reclusive genius. I've also been meandering my way through a lovely book called Emily Dickinson's Gardens, as much about her flowers as it is about her life and poems, hence good springtime reading (though it actually cycles through all four seasons).

I'm hoping to pull together a unit study on Dickinson soon, as I keep getting ideas for supplemental activities and learning trails. Some of her poems definitely spoke to the sweet girl, who surprised me by choosing the poem "A Letter to a Bee" (the one that begins "Bee, I'm Expecting You...") for memorization. Not the easiest of Emily's poems to memorize, and yet she's done it and done it well. I think we'll definitely return to Dickinson again in the years to come!

Patchwork Post

I wasn't sure what to call this post ~ just so many bits and pieces that are too small to make posts of their own!

Fuse #8's 100 Children's Novels countdown is heading into the homestretch. Four spots left, and all four of my "must-be-there" books have yet to be named. So once again I'm predicting/hoping that here's what we'll see, counting down from 4-1: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe; A Wrinkle in Time; Sorcerer's Stone; Charlotte's Web. I actually have no clue about order and am basing my predictions on the random thoughts that a) I've had a funny feeling all along that Charlotte/Sorcerer would come in as 1 and 2 (and my husband reached the same conclusion independently, leading me to believe we can't both be wrong!) and b) if the American/British pattern holds for books in the first two spots, it may hold for books in the third and fourth spots as well. I know...that makes little logical sense. Just humor me!

The sweet girl is loving the 30 Poets/30 Days over at Gotta Book. Just like last year, one poem in particular has totally captured her imagination. This year it's the poem "Re:Me" by Calef Brown. She's read it five or six times (and it's a long poem) and chortles her way through every time. We both appreciate its sense of fun, clever rhymes and wordplay. She's now trying to write a funny poem in imitation. Last night she got down from the dinner table and brought back paper and pencil. "I need to begin writing my poem," she explained. And then she asked, "Does it have to have punctuation in it?"

The taxes are alllmoooossstt done. Have I mentioned how much I don't enjoy having to work out self-employment taxes? And yet I love the freedom of working from home, which allows me to do other things I love, like homeschool. So I will try not to complain. Though I must say that I did a lot of sighing over the utterly un-downloadable forms on the state website. All I really have to do tonight is assemble the forms, write the checks, and make copies for the files. And I can do that while...

watching Scarecrow and Mrs. King! How utterly delighted I was to get the Season 1 DVD (which for some reason had never been released until this year) from my sister for my birthday. Scarecrow is just about my favorite television show of all time, perhaps recently dethroned by LOST (though let me wait on that judgment until the finale) and it's been so much fun to see these early episodes again. I even finally got to see the season 1 Christmas show, one of the few episodes of the entire series I'd never seen. Like the rest of them, it was sweet and sentimental in that wonderful early 1980s/Cold War/spy adventure sort of way.

I'm in a real reviewing slump at present, but last week did finally post my review of Eric Metaxas' book Amazing Grace: William Wilberforce and the Heroic Campaign to End Slavery. If you know anyone looking for an introduction to the life and work of the great Wilberforce (perhaps someone who saw the recent movie and is intrigued to know more) point them to this excellent book.

Sherry over at Semicolon kicked off her classical poems postings with a reflection on Psalm 23. That happened to be on the list of favorites I sent her. She's going to be posting about poems that got multiple votes/mentions, and in chronological order. I especially smiled to see that she posted a link to Keith Green singing "The Lord is My Shepherd." This Easter week has definitely been colored by Keith's music for us, especially this live recording of "The Victor" on youtube. I both tear up and smile whenever I watch it.

Poetry Postcard 2: Synchronicity and Process

I’m loving the synchronicity of my daily forays into poetry this month. Yesterday I checked in at Poetic Asides for the prompt of the day, which happened to be “write a history poem.” It could be the history of anything. I remembered my rough draft attempt, a few years back, to write a poem about my personal history (based on this template ~ the “Where I'm From” poem) and thought it might be fun to try to capture similar roots by writing a poem called “A Selective History of Me.”

What form that might have taken I don’t know, but then I stumbled upon this post at Wild Rose Reader, celebrating list poems. I think I’ve had poetic lists on the brain lately, since I’m re-reading Charlotte’s Web to the sweet girl…and E.B. White does delight in lists. Though his lists come in the midst of prose, they are their own bits of poetry. I decided I would try writing a list poem about my life.

The process has been interesting so far. I set out with no specific thoughts about how to shape the list, what limits to place on it. I began with an image from the day I came home from the hospital, an image of a welcome home banner on the wall of my family’s living room. I’ve actually seen that image in old home movies taken on Dad’s old Super-8 movie camera. Since I was starting at the beginning, my homecoming as a baby, the list began to flow naturally from there and move forward chronologically. The stanzas began to break themselves naturally into seasons of my life: babyhood and preschool, early school years, etc. I hadn’t consciously made the decision to do that, but it seemed to make sense, and I could tell (by my swift crossings-out, when I sensed that events or images felt out of order) that chronology matters to this poem.

So does concreteness. At first I toyed with naming significant people in my life, or at least significant relationships somehow, but it soon became clear that I needed to stick primarily to images (sights, sounds, smells) and artifacts. It’s been interesting to sense how many people and events stand behind those things, and to pick and choose which ones matter most. It’s also been interesting to note how much easier it was to zero in on a few key images from childhood. The farther I go into the past, the more starkly a few key images or events stand out as the ones I remember best or feel formed me most. The closer I get to the current-day, the more cluttered and richly layered things get, and the harder it is to pick and choose. I do find myself returning, like a migrating bird, to certain kinds of images, especially those drawn from nature and from books. And some recurring bits of language are cropping up as I revise, lending the whole exercise a bit more structure.

And then of course I found this quote, from poet Gene Fehler, over at the Poetry Makers series: “As far as ideas for writing poems, my favorite way to begin is to think of these four words: "What I remember most" -- and go from there.”

Sweet synchronicity.

Easter Monday Gratitude

It's been a while since I've posted a Monday blessings list. I thought I'd jump right in with gratitude on this Easter Monday!

So grateful for:

45) Easter! Not just this particular Easter day, though it was a beautiful one. But for Easter life...the risen life of our Lord, who defeated death once and for all, and who reigns in victory! I am especially thankful that he invites me into the power and joy of his risen life.

46) The sweet girl's joy upon receiving her first Communion yesterday. It was such a lovely moment, and such a right one. After prayer, we decided to use this Lent as special preparation time with her. The preparation time was good, and when the time came yesterday to go forward, and our priest spoke the welcome to the table, her face was just alight with joy. I loved seeing her listen so intently all during Holy Week, and really move into the joy of the resurrection yesterday. Is there anything more beautiful than seeing your child's hands cupped to receive the bread?

47) Spring, spring, spring! Did I mention it's really spring? Sunshine, daffodils, budding trees, and the beauty of the rain.

48) My birthday week before last. Yes, it has been a while since I've posted a gratitude list, and I had so much to be thankful for on this particular birthday. Most especially the love of my wonderful husband and daughter, who gave me such a beautiful day. Breakfast in bed (bagel, juice and cereal drowned in milk by my seven year old!) and a gorgeous morning/afternoon at Phipps Conservatory, my favorite birthday tradition. We were able to do it this year because of a thoughtful gift from my parents. Other gifts, loving notes, and cards made the day so special. And yes, it was capped off by Chinese food and a homemade cake.

49) My parents 56th wedding anniversary just a few days before my birthday. And my mom also just turned 78. I am so blessed that they are healthy and vigorous and happy, enjoying life, each other and the Lord. As my Dad told me the other day, he feels like every day is a gift.

50) Miraculous provision, right when we needed it. Our financial struggles are so stressful and of such long duration, I try not to mention them here. But I have to recount the marvelous works of God! Sometimes our ongoing, long-term stresses meet short-term crisis/needs. We had one of those times lately. Hardly before we'd had time to pray, and thankfully before I'd had time to slip into a huge stretch of anxiety (my tendency) provision arrived. It was amazing...down almost to the exact penny of what we needed. Except, of course, that the Lord (in his beautiful way) gave just a little extra. About seven dollars extra! Most of all, he used loving friends to bless us, showing us again the beauty of his body.

So much to be thankful for this Easter Monday.

Poetry and Holy Week

Perhaps more than any other week in the year, Holy Week invites us into the gospel story. As we walk through the week, we step into the story of the final week of Jesus' life and walk through it again: watching, listening, remembering, mourning, loving, praying, confessing, and finally celebrating.

Over the years I've discovered that one of my natural responses to the rhythm of Holy Week is writing, especially the writing of poetry. Most especially the writing of narrative poetry, where I imagine scenes from that final week of our Savior's life on earth, or where I step into the scene in some way.

This year, after listening to a powerful Maundy Thursday sermon, I found myself contemplating how lonely Jesus must have felt in the garden, especially following moments of such deep communion and fellowship in the upper room. Our pastor described the events of the Last Supper as "the eye of the storm" -- so much conflict and pain swirls around that event, both before and especially after, but in many ways the supper itself is a moment of relative peace and calm, as Jesus prepares his friends for what lies ahead and helps them understand what he is about to do.

I found myself thinking about the moments immediately after the Last Supper, as Jesus and the disciples left the upper room and headed toward the garden, back toward the raging storm. This poem (still a draft) is the result. I hope it blesses you on this Holy Saturday evening. And I pray that you will have a joyous celebration of the resurrection tomorrow morning! Oh how he loves us!

********

The door to the upstairs room
shuts behind them.
The last one out closes it softly,
as though to capture echoes
of the last hymn.
Notes reverberate in their minds,
hum in their hearts,
as silently they file down the stairs,
one by one,
each trekking carefully in the footsteps
of the One ahead,
listening for his voice.
They think they know where
they are going
but aren't fully sure until they see
the looming shapes of olive trees,
dark branches even darker
than the starlit sky above.

He has come to pray --
for guidance, strength, help --
and they mean to keep him company,
to accompany his prayers
with their own whispered petitions.
Only the night is growing cold,
and fear, wonder, sorrow
all press like a blanket
around their wine-warmed bodies
which one by one
drop down and rest --
just for a minute --
only to be dragged beneath
an ocean of sleep.
He is alone. He is left to think
about the cup just handed around
the table, the cup from which
all drank, the literal cup
he will not drink again
until another feast,
far distant but assured.
He is alone, though not alone,
as his prayers rise
like incense in the starry night,
the calm before the storm,
the moment before the breaking wave,
the clutching hand of earth
clasped in the strong hand of heaven.

He feels taut, alert, alive in every
muscle, every sinew, gritty-eyed with pain.
He glances at his scattered friends
who love him so, who mean so well.
But with the world about to quake,
not one of them has stayed awake.

(EMP, 4/2010)

Poetry Postcard 1

I've been trying to think about how I'd like to post during this poetry month. As promised, I'll be posting links to some favorite places in the blogosphere where I'll be stopping and visiting and reading during April. But I don't just want to post links, many of which you can pick up elsewhere anyway (including some round-ups with lists).

What struck me as a I contemplated how I enjoyed poetry month last year, and how I meandered, enjoyed and ruminated on first of the month poetry posts this morning, is that I often find myself delighting in small snippets. Lines from poems, or lines from poets talking about poetry, often seem to jump out and grab me. Last year I sometimes jotted those lines down in my journal, though more often than not I simply noted them mentally and rushed on. This year I'd like to be more intentional about capturing some of those moments that celebrate language and the love of language.

And I decided it would be fun to share them. So think of these poetry posts as postcards. I may only have time to jot a few lines, but jot I will -- and I will send them off into cyberspace where I hope you will enjoy them too.

Today's postcard comes courtesy of The Miss Rumphius Effect, which is reprising its wonderful "Poetry Makers" interview series this month. This year Tricia kicked off with an interview with Mary Ann Hoberman, current children's poet laureate (or as she calls her "the big kahuna"). Lots of wonderful things in that interview, especially on the importance of sharing poetry with children and the joys of poetry memorization. But I think my favorite line was this:

"...a poem is an object made out of words that carries, like a brimful cup, the mystery of language."

A brimful cup of the mystery of language. Can't you see a chipped, thick handled-mug, heaped up with words, frothy as whipped cream? Or perhaps a crystal clear glass, full of something cool and refreshing, the words clinking around like ice cubes or sliding down the sides in tiny streams of condensation.

Happy Poetry Month!

100 Species Challenge #10: Cymbidium Orchids

Back when I worked in a florist (many, many years ago) cymbidiums were one of my favorite flowers in the shop. I still love them. And I couldn't resist snapping this beautiful photo at the conservatory the other day, where the creamy white blooms seem particularly elegant and lovely next to the variegated leaves behind them.

Cymbidium orchids, it turns out, are fairly hardy. They apparently can make good houseplants (leading me to want to try!) and can survive fairly cold temperatures, unlike some of their more fragile orchid cousins. They come in stunning varieties and colors too.

Reader Polls: Chapter Books and Classic Poems

One reader's poll I've been following is winding down, while another is gearing up to start just in time for Poetry Month!

The poll winding down is Fuse #8's Top 100 Children's Novels. She's been counting down 100 favorite chapter books for 8-12 year olds, and a wonderful list it's been. She posted #11 today (Ellen Raskin's The Westing Game) so tomorrow we move into top ten territory. Since she's counting down only one per day at this point, and is taking weekend breaks, we've still got a couple of weeks to anticipate, enjoy and discuss! You can find the whole list posted in one streamlined and regularly updated list at Six Boxes of Books.

Of the ten I voted for, some have showed up already and one won't (it was a series book from the middle of a series; the series has been represented already by its first book). I was a bit flummoxed to see a couple of books I almost assumed would be in the top ten show up in the second tier of the top twenty, namely Bridge to Terebithia and The Hobbit. (The Hobbit came in at #12, a pleasant post to see on my birthday last Friday...made even nicer by the fact that I was quoted in the post!)

So far the list has been an interesting mix of classic and contemporary, and there's no reason to assume the top ten won't follow suit. Still I would fall down in an astonished faint if we don't see Charlotte's Web, A Wrinkle in Time, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, and Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone all in the final ten. Those four are the ones I'm considering (fingers crossed!) as shoo-ins. The other six are up for grabs, in my humble opinion, and I've got at least a dozen possible contenders scribbled in my journal as I try to think through what might show up. I'm guessing at least one book I'm not thinking of at all will make the list: either something new that children voted for in droves, or a classic I'm either forgetting or wrongly assuming not enough people will remember.

The other reader's poll is hosted by Sherry over at her blog Semicolon. She asked readers to submit their ten favorite "classic poems" -- meaning poetry in the public domain. I had a great time coming up with my list, though I pretty much gave up trying to pick my favorite ten poems of all time (just too hard!) and just went with ten poems I have loved and returned to again and again over the years. Given the fact that we've just moved into spring, I tended to gravitate toward spring-time poems. The poems are being tallied now, and the countdown begins Thursday, April 1, a fitting beginning to poetry month. I'm looking forwarding to checking in regularly to see the poems that others chose.

John Donne: Annunciation

In honor of the day.

Annunciation

Salvation to all that will is nigh,
That All, which always is All everywhere,
Which cannot sin, and yet all sins must bear,
Which cannot die, yet cannot choose but die,
Loe, faithful Virgin, yields himself to lie
In prison, in thy womb; and though he there
Can take no sin, nor thou give, yet he'will wear
Taken from thence, flesh, which death's force may try.
Ere by the spheres time was created, thou
Wast in his mind, who is thy Son, and Brother,
Whom thou conceiv'st, conceiv'd; yea thou art now
Thy maker's maker, and thy Father's mother,
Thou hast light in dark; and shutst in little room,
Immensity cloistered in thy dear womb.

~John Donne

You can find Donne's Sonnets here.

Priming the Pump for Poetry Month

There's just a tad bit over a week to go until poetry month, and I'm getting very excited! I've been looking over some of last year's online resources and am thrilled to see that many of the websites that celebrated in such creative fashion last year are planning to do it again. Here's what I plan to do for poetry month, both on and off this blog:

1) Post links, in the coming week, to some of the wonderful resources out there that celebrate the reading, writing and all-around enjoyment of poetry. Stay tuned!

2) Read poetry every day. Both with my seven year old, and on my own, I want April to be a month drenched in word-play. It's such a beautiful month for it too, beginning with the end of Holy Week and Easter and moving ever deeper into spring.

3) Write some poetry. I won't say every day because I need to be realistic, but some of the websites I'll be pointing to over the next few days have good creative prompts to get the creative juices flowing. With the sap flowing in the trees outside, it seems like a natural time of year to follow suit...

4) Post some of my own reflections on the importance of reading poetry with children, and some creative ways to help engage children in that kind of reading.

5) Ask a couple of my literature loving friends to talk me with about their favorite poems, and posting those Q&A interviews here.

So get ready for a loving onslaught of poetry posts!

Happy Spring!

I've not been posting this week because I've been sick. The last days of winter, though they didn't look or feel very wintry outside (where it's turned wonderfully spring-like suddenly) still managed to slam me. On Wednesday night I came down with either a very nasty virus or the flu -- not sure which. And I'm still recovering.

There's nothing like two days of fever/chills, aches and countless bathroom trips, to make one grateful for ordinary days of health. For the better part of two days, I literally slept, in huge crashing washes of sleep, that left me feeling like I'd been underneath the ocean. I've almost never had an illness wipe me so completely of energy. The fact that I've only managed gatorade, dry toast, a couple of saltines and a bit of broth in all that time (most of that since yesterday afternoon) has also left me feeling pretty weak.

But...so much to be thankful for. My husband, though absolutely swamped at the office and not able to be home much, has pitched in to do the absolute essentials that I simply couldn't make myself do in the midst of hours of nausea (like meals). The sweet girl has been on her absolute best behavior, realizing that this wasn't a simple case of Mommy not feeling well, but rather Mommy being truly sick. She's actually kept herself on a routine, doing her chores without complaint, doing extra things to help out, even doing her schoolwork pretty much on her own, only bringing me some things to check over once in a while (I would have just cancelled everything!). She's fetched me things and stroked my head and been so flexible about changes in routine (always her biggest challenge) that I'm just feeling amazed. What a lovely gift, in the midst of being so sick, to have one of those beautiful parental "oh my, she's really growing up...and hey, she's doing it so well!" moments.

Then there's the sunshine -- which I've not had a chance to go out and actually feel, but it's glorious to see it pouring through the windows.

And today is my parents' 56th wedding anniversary, with my mom's 78th birthday tomorrow. I so wish I could be with them to celebrate both milestones, but regardless, I am just filled with gratitude that they're well and healthy and vibrant and so good at loving the Lord, loving each other, and loving all their kids, grand-kids and great-grands.

I hope to get back to more regular posting soon (though trying not to feel overwhelmed by how behind I feel with work after these few days!). In the meantime, if you're reading this, know I'd appreciate prayer for a full recovery of energy.

You Say Conjunction, I Say Interjections!

One of my favorite things about Facebook are the spontaneous little conversations that erupt in the comment boxes under status updates. Sure, people can post all sorts of notes to tell you about themselves, but you really learn things about your friends in these casual, chatty asides!

Yesterday, for my status update, I posted a line from the old grammar rock song about unpacking our adjectives. Remember that one? "He was a hairy bear, he was a scary bear, we beat a hasty retreat from his lair..." This has caused a totally friendly disagreement between two of my dear friends (one of them my husband!) about their favorite grammar rock song of all time. It cracks me up. And I can't even cast a deciding vote because I love both Conjunction Junction and Interjections! (Hooray! Eeek! Aw, rats...)


We have the whole Schoolhouse Rock collection on DVD and have been playing it lately as the sweet girl is learning about the kinds of things that get a lot of airtime in the songs. Adjectives, adverbs, the multiplication table and gravity have been big hits at our house this month.

If you're a person of a certain age (come on, you know who you are!) you grew up with these little gems singing through your brain. If you saw them enough on Saturday mornings, it's possible you still wake up with some of them singing through your brain from time to time. "Lolly Lolly Lolly get your adverbs here!" "Three is a magic number, yes it is, it's a magic number!" "Take your powder, take your gun, report to General Washington..."

So if you loved Schoolhouse Rock, what are you favorites? Inquiring minds what to know. If you can't remember all the lyrics, you can go here to find them. And once you're done telling me some of your favorites, you can actually head over here to cast your official vote on the Schoolhouse Rock website. Who knew?

And hey, did anyone else ever have to take an American civics quiz on the preamble to the Constitution? At some point in high school I did, and I'm pretty sure the whole class was singing under their breaths as they wrote. Oh go on...you still know it by heart...you know you do!

And just for the record, though it's really hard to choose favorites, I'm partial to "A Noun is a Person, Place or Thing," "Electricity" (though "Victim of Gravity" is also wonderful), "I'm Just a Bill," and "Figure Eight." Though I must confess "Sufferin' Till Suffrage" does buzz through my brain more often than you might guess. Yes indeed, I am a child of the 70s!

Amazing Grace and Benjamin Linus

"Maybe I am!" Harry bellowed, and he flung his arms over his head, hardly knowing whether he was trying to hold in his anger or protect himself from the weight of his own disillusionment. "Look what he asked from me, Hermione! Risk your life, Harry! And again! And again! And don't expect me to explain everything, just trust me blindly, trust that I know what I'm doing, trust me even though I don't trust you! Never the whole truth! Never!...I don't know who he loved, Hermione, but it was never me. This isn't love, the mess he's left me in..."

~"The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore," Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

Raise your hand if this passage flashed through your mind while you were watching "Dr. Linus" episode 6 of the final season of LOST. "Dr Linus," which wins my vote for the most gut-wrenching, tear-inducing episode of the entire series thus far, gave us three people, three followers/disciples of Jacob, who might have said words quite similar to Harry's in the nadir of their despair. Ilana was in tears much of the night; Richard was headed for the nearest bridge (or stick of dynamite) actually heading back to the place where we think he was once a slave (shades of John Newton's Amazing Grace anyone, in the slave ship references?). Jack didn't have that kind of Harry moment this week, but he had a big one in "The Lighthouse" when his angry mirror-smashing reminded me forcefully of young Harry smashing things all over Dumbledore's office.

And then of course, there was Ben.

Jacob is dead, killed at Ben Linus' hand, and no one who has followed Jacob -- or been touched by him -- seems to know what to do next. But in this episode a number of our castaways (now significantly a blend of castaways and others) seemed to take small fumbling steps out of the pit and toward the light -- or in the case of Ben Linus, a giant leap out of his own grave and into the arms of amazing grace.

Besides the brilliant writing that wove together the sideways plot with the island plot, I was just overjoyed to see the LOST writers take this leap, to offer such a damaged and broken character a real chance at forgiveness, love and acceptance. Ben has been one of the strangest, most convoluted characters on the show -- easy to pity, easy to fear, easy to hate, hard to love (well, at least for some of us!) and never, ever easy to trust.

So much I could write about here, but lots of folks have recapped the episode brilliantly already (check out Doc Jensen, Erin's Lost Reflections, or Arabella at the Hog's Head) so let me just pen a couple of quick reflections.

~First, how powerful was this picture of forgiveness? Ben was shackled, digging his own grave, literally on the brink of death. Ilana was about to kill him in vindication for the murder of Jacob, a man they both loved (but neither understands). Suddenly Smokey/Flocke appears from out of nowhere, offering Ben a chance at supposed freedom. He has enough power to literally unloose Ben from those shackles, but we quickly realize that a physical unchaining is not what Ben needs. If he takes Smocke's offer, he will only be exchanging physical bondage for far worse, ongoing (deepening) spiritual bondage. It's only when he hears Ilana's words of forgiveness and acceptance, later in the jungle (as he holds her at gunpoint and confesses his worst sins, and as she weeps) that Ben is truly freed. That's when the shackles fall, not from his ankles, but from his soul.

~Second, how long has Ben been on this path to redemption? I'm going to venture to say that some of the most important milestones on that path happened when he came face to face with evil. The unknitting of Ben's damaged and ravaged self got worse when he had a hand in Alex's death (a death for which he sought judgment) and the sweater of his soul really started unravelling after he killed Jacob, the supernatural mentor/father figure he has believed himself to be following and listening to for all these years. But when we *really* began to see Ben unhinge was when he faced Flocke in the temple, seeing Smokey for what he was (no matter the disguise he was wearing) and realizing, perhaps for the first time, that there was an evil force opposed to the good, opposed to Jacob and Jacob's side, and that such a terrible evil had manipulated Ben (himself the master manipulator) into doing something horrifying.

In other words, Ben was undone when he was truly faced by evil -- saw it for what it was -- and realized it was also within him.

Think about it. Twice now, before his second encounter last night with Flocke, we have seen Ben Linus face to face with evil: first when he recognized Smokey in the guise of Locke in the temple, and then when he saw Sayid turned murderer in the temple (how interesting that both encounters were in the temple). The look on his face when he saw Sayid was truly unnerving -- he looked like he might be physically sick. Why?

After all, Ben Linus has seen Sayid kill before. He's asked him to. Ben knows all about evil, doesn't he? Ben Linus has done awful things. He has murdered, he has manipulated, he has treated people terribly. In fact, one could argue that the two people he has treated the worst, of all the original castaways, are Locke and Sayid. More than once he attempted to murder John, and finally succeeded in that hotel room in LA. And he manipulated Sayid's grief for his own ends, playing on the worst characteristics of Sayid's nature and prompting Sayid to return to a life of violence that Sayid had been trying to escape.

But although Ben has done these terrible things, he hasn't seemed to realize how terrible they are. He has justified them in the name of good, or in the name of what he thought was good (I'm banking on the fact that much of what Ben has done in the name of Jacob were not things Jacob wanted him to do at all, and that Ben has been deceived and played by Smokey for years). It's only now, when looking into the face of evil, evil shown to him in the faces of two men he has manipulated and terribly wronged, that Ben comes face to face -- not only with the reality of evil, but with the reality of how far it has pervaded his own soul.

Small wonder he looked sick, abandoned, unhinged, and well...dare I say it?...lost.

But that's precisely where grace has a chance to reach us, isn't it? When we get to the end of who we are and realize that what's inside us is all twisted and wrong, when we're not even sure where to turn to for help (and convinced, perhaps, that no one good will ever "have us" -- for "who could ever love a beast?") then forgiveness or love has the chance to speak its word and pierces through the darkness. When Ben heard Ilana's words "I'll have you" he looked stunned, like a man caught in the headlights. And so he was, really, because the same light that showed him his worse self also showed him the only way out of the grave. Ilana spoke a word of grace, the kind of grace that God speaks into our lives. Charles Wesley understood that radical kind of grace when he wrote "And Can It Be" -- "My chains fell off, my heart set free, I rose, went forth, and followed Thee."

~And could it be...that Ben's not through with his journey yet? Could it be possible that Ben might have love and grace to offer others ("he who has been forgiven much, loves much" says Jesus) perhaps even those whose lives he most seriously wounded? It may be too late for him to make any sort of restitution toward John (since the real Locke is dead) but could he have a part in liberating Sayid from his bondage to Smokey, if the real Sayid is still in there somewhere?

Which Harry Potter Would Make Your Top Ten?

One of the most interesting things I've noted, as I've been reading and enjoying Fuse #8 (Betsy Bird) count down the 100 Top 100 Children's Novels, is just how deeply attached readers are to series books. Perhaps it's not surprising since series provide room for stories to obtain epic or multi-generational dimensions. They also give us more page-time with characters, making them feel like beloved friends we've seen not once, but on many return visits.

My own top ten, which I submitted, contained 4 clear series with 3 more that aren't always billed heavily as a series but have sequels that continue with the same characters...hence, they're series! My 7 out of 10 seems to be running just about exactly with the percentage of series books being listed in the overall poll results.

And it was hard to decide which book from the series to choose, something that's been discussed a good bit in the comments at Betsy's blog. If you can only choose one, which one do you choose? Do you go for the first book in the series (which she says she defaulted to if someone listed an entire series as their choice, or said they couldn't possibly choose only one) since that's where characters, setting and story are all introduced? Do you go for the final book of the series, where stories often come to a powerful and cathartic ending? Do you choose the book that drew you most deeply into the series in the first place, or hooked you so you knew you were definitely going to keep reading to the end? Or do you simply choose the one book in the series you ended up loving the most, the one you tend to go back to more than any other? (You know, the one whose binding fell apart first...)

It's a hard call. I found myself defaulting most often to the first book in the series, in part because it was "where it all started" but also sometimes because it was really my favorite. In one case only did I find myself going with the third book in a series.

Of course I've been especially fascinated to watch the poll for Harry Potter. It's interesting to note which books are coming in as "most beloved" and why ~ and there's an interesting mix of people, including teachers, parents, librarians, and yes, kids, who voted. With only the top 25 books left to count down, 3 HPs have made it so far, and comment speculation is keen regarding which of the others will make it or whether or not all 7 might. Care to guess which 3 have made it?


Chamber of Secrets came in at #86, Order of the Phoenix at #38, and Goblet of Fire at #35.



So what do you think? Will the other 4 Harry Potters show up in the top 25? I think Sorcerer's Stone and Azkaban definitely will; I'm less sure about Half-Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows, which seem to work better in tandem than each on their own.

And if you were ranking your top 10 children's novels (defined here as mid-grade books for 8-12 year olds) of all time, would Harry make your list? And if so, which Harry?

Spring Song

Dogwood buds, birdsong, and nineteen crocuses.
One wonders, in spring, how anyone focuses.

~EMP, 3/11/10

I know it's technically not spring yet, but the weather certainly seems like it! And so the snippets of spring poetry have begun to bloom in my journal...

Emily Dickinson Month

It's been Emily Dickinson month at our house. This wasn't intentionally planned, but it turned out to be one of those happy "coincidences" of a love-of-learning life.

Although we generally study/appreciate one new musical composer and one new visual artist every month (or every four-five weeks) we've not yet really gotten into a rhythm with studying poetry. Maybe because we read a lot of it in a casual, almost every day kind of way (well, if not every day, than at least often). Word play and poetry are a big part of our family's life, whether or not we're consciously "studying" poetry. And I like that it's such a seamless part of our learning environment.

But in recent months it began dawning on me that I wanted to make sure to begin introducing my seven year old to certain poets. Not just children's poets ~ though I mean that term in no way disparagingly, as I love certain poets who write almost exclusively for children ~ Mary Ann Hoberman springs to mind immediately. I decided to start with a classic poet who did write a lot for children, the poet who probably influenced my childhood more than any other (save the apostle John or the psalmists) Robert Louis Stevenson.

The sweet girl was familiar with a few of Stevenson's poems already, the much anthologized ones like "The Swing." But last fall we read together the Robert Louis Stevenson volume from the "Poetry for Young People" series, which is fast becoming a favorite around here. I like this series for all sorts of reasons (which you'll see if you click through links to my reviews) including the fact that each book provides a well-written biography of the poet, geared to a child's interest and understanding (but not dumbed down) and because the books are beautifully illustrated, a plus for drawing in my very visual little learner. The poems themselves are also well-selected and just a joy to read.

Well, that was last fall. We didn't rush our way through Stevenson, but spent time savoring the poems and enjoying learning about his life. I wasn't sure who I wanted to turn to this spring, but I went back to the series and ended up choosing Emily Dickinson. I'm not sure why I've had Dickinson on my mind so much, but clearly I have...around the time I was trying to decide what poet to read next with my daughter, I signed up to receive a Dickinson poem a day through DailyLit. Thus it was that I was reading Dickinson myself, with my morning tea, as I began reading with the sweet girl...and it's just turned into a wonderful month for Emily!

I wonder if I didn't think of Dickinson because the world is beginning to wake (oh so slowly and gently, despite snow piles) to spring. It just seems like the right time to read words like this:

The grass so little has to do,
A sphere of simple green
With only butterflies to brood
And bees to entertain.

And stir all day to pretty tunes
The breezes fetch along
And hold the sunshine in its lap
And bow to everything.

I know we're not quite to the carefree greenness of this poem yet, but we will be! We will be!

More soon, I hope, on Emily's poetry and on reading poetry with children. I find I've got all sorts of thoughts pushing up through the soil.

Press on to Know

"Let us know; let us press on to know the LORD; his going out is sure as the dawn; he will come to us as the showers, as the spring rains that water the earth." (Hosea 6:3, ESV)

Grateful Monday

Monday again! I thought the beginning of a new school/work week, combined with the beginning of a new month, seemed like a great time for a gratitude post.

Right now I'm grateful for:

38. An insight, and some sabbath time yesterday (including a nap). The insight was spoken a couple of weeks ago by my pastor in his Sunday sermon. He was speaking of rest and talked of the importance of working from rest, not merely resting from work. It's helped me rethink through how I look at Sundays as the first day of the week, a day to find rest and refreshment and renewal and to look ahead, not just a day to recuperate.

39. The Olympics. Given all our t.v. "issues" we didn't think we'd get to watch them, but we managed to get a hiccupy NBC and were so glad we did. I've always loved the Olympics and have some wonderful childhood memories of watching them with my family. The sweet girl's seven year old imagination was entirely seized by the wonderful athletes and events, not to mention the sheer spectacle of the ceremonies and the fun things she got to learn about Canada (where dear friends recently moved, which made the information and scenes seem all the more pertinent). She's been drawing bobsledders and "skating" around the kitchen for days (to "Swan Lake" -- what's even more fun is she makes her Dad skate around too, as her partner!) and has even created a neat set of multi-colored Olympic rings from construction paper, currently taped to a kitchen drawer. We'll miss Vancouver!

40. Lessons that flow so naturally from watching the Olympics. Like "someone has to finish in 18th place." And "18th place still means you're 18th best in the world at your sport." And the difference between events that require speed and those that require endurance. And on and on.

41. Library sales. We only picked up a few things at this last sale, but some of them were gold, including a beautiful recording, from 1940, of Beethoven's 9th symphony on CD. It's a piece of music I've often wished I owned, so to find such a lovely rendition for $2 (pricey for a sale, but still a bargain!) was wonderful.

42. March! Oh yes, March! We've still got literal piles of snow on the ground, and I'm sure we'll get more, but turning the corner on March makes me feel we're really gaining ground on spring now. And oh I love spring!

43. The return of LOST. The final season is shaping up to be one of the most interesting bits of story-telling I could have imagined, and I'm loving all the good conversations with fellow LOST enthusiasts. And I am most grateful for Erin, who has been recording the show for us each week (our t.v. reception doesn't extend to ABC) providing me and D. with a standing Friday evening date. We don't mind at all that we're three days behind as we watch. It makes us feel like we're flashing around in time, just like they did on the island last year...

44. Lenten scriptures. About which I hope to post more this week.

Reading This Week...

~Chris Seay's The Gospel According to LOST. My husband and I are passing this one back and forth; the chapters are short. Lighter than I expected, and not quite as thought-provoking as I'd hoped. Still, good insights into the power of stories, lots of good questions re: the intersection of faith and popular culture. If you like this sort of thing (and like LOST) definitely worth picking up.

~Michelangelo by Diane Stanley. The sweet girl and I continue our meandering tour of the Renaissance. I love Stanley's lengthy picture book biographies, rich in language and art, and this one is no exception. As a fun sidebar, we watched Mike Venezia's Michelangelo on DVD, from his "Getting to Know the World's Greatest Artists" series. I think "you don't say no to the pope" is going to be one of my new favorite expressions.

~"Stealing Past Watchful Dragons: C.S. Lewis' Incarnational Aesthetics and Today's Emerging Imagination" an essay by Phil Harrold in volume 3 of the series C.S. Lewis: Life, Works and Legacy, edited by Bruce Edwards. Excellent essay, recapping and cogently expressing many things I've been reading & thinking about Lewis in the past year. Giving me new thoughts to chew on too.

~An essay by Jennifer Woodruff Tait on gender in Lewis' That Hideous Strength. It's in a recent Bulletin of the NY C.S. Lewis Society; unfortunately I had time to read the first half of the essay at the library but not time to photocopy the rest of it. Hope to get back to it soon.

~Ramona and Her Father by Beverly Cleary. Current read-aloud with the sweet girl, and as usual, Ramona is providing both joy and mirth. Not to mention plenty of good adverb spotting practice. (Stay tuned for a new post on teaching grammar with Beverly Cleary.)

~And speaking of Cleary, I recently re-read her book Sister of the Bride after discovering a used library-sale copy I forgot I'd picked up. I don't think it's worn as well for some folks as many Cleary books, but it was one of my favorite books in the world when I was around ten or eleven, and I can still quote chunks of it. And I still get a lump in my throat during the scene where younger sister Barbara, sitting in Rosemary's shabby, unfinished university apartment, gets a tiny glimpse of how real love and looming marriage have already changed and deepened her big sister. Maybe you've got to be a little sister to love this one as much I do.

~Still re-reading Katherine Paterson's Bridge to Terebithia out loud to D. Love Jess and Leslie. Love May Belle. We're almost to the key scene, the one I can't read without crying. I've never tried it aloud, so we'll see how it goes.

Bits and pieces of other things, but that's the main list for the past few days. What are you reading and enjoying this week?

More Musings (Alchemical and Other) on LOST

I can't seem to help myself...the more I watch LOST's final season, the more excited I'm getting about the ways it's using alchemical imagery.

If you've not watched last week's episode "The Substitute," don't read any further. Otherwise, let's forge ahead.

When my friend Erin saw my last post, and knew that I hadn't yet seen the latest episode, she left an enthusiastic comment to let me know that lots of albedo imagery was on the way. And boy, was she right.

"The Substitute" focuses on John Locke, one of my favorite Losties. We get three versions of John in this particular episode: island John (dead); island fake John (whose body has been taken over by Smokey); and sideways world John (broken and flawed but loved and somehow renewed).

Whatever the writers intend us to think about regarding the sideways story ~ is it a reality that might be? that is? that will be? that could be? that should be? ~I am loving it.

And part of the reason I'm loving it is because, oh happy day, the writers seemed to get the memo from so many of us who have enjoyed this show for five seasons. The mysteries are grand. The science-fiction and fantasy elements are intriguing. But the characters...the characters!...are what it's all about. They're why we care that any of the rest of it is happening.

Because I care deeply about these characters, I love seeing what their lives might look like if able to let go of their baggage, or at least begin to. What would a second chance at life look like for these people, especially if their island lives have taught them important life lessons? What if people could re-enter their own pasts with newly gained forgiveness and wisdom and hope?

Because alchemical literature majors in stories that deal with purification and transformation, such stories are rich in symbols that help reveal the purifying and transforming process. And LOST seems to be literally dripping with such symbols right now.

With John's story, we definitely seem to be in the albedo stage. Think, if you will, of just a few of the major images in "The Substitute." We see John:

~lying humbled, facedown, on his lawn, unable to move, drenched in the spray of his sprinkler system. Pre-island John would have bellowed in rage; sideways John just laughs, in an echo of how he laughed in wonder and lifted his face to the heavens when it poured rain on him on the island in season 1. I was so awash in the excitement of seeing the water imagery this time around that I almost missed that echo; both Erin and Dana (my hubby) more astute LOST-observers than I, picked it up right away.

~in a bath (a bath! how alchemical can we get!) discussing his wedding (a wedding! how alchemical can we get!)

~looking contemplatively in a mirror. Oh this you have to love. Doppelganger John, contemplating his mirrored reflection. Just as doppelganger Kate contemplated her's last week, and doppelganger Jack did the week before. Hats off to Doc Jensen, amazing pop culture critic, for noticing that we've had three sideways bathroom-mirror moments so far. LOST has always abounded in "seeing eye" imagery, and I love that mirrors are showing up everywhere in season 6. Mirrors are one of the most potent symbols of spiritual contemplation, hinting at the union of subject/object. More contraries resolved? We shall see.

But my favorite alchemical symbol last week turned out not to be one involving water, at least not directly (though we had to get there on a perilous trip down a cliff next to a crashing ocean). I almost shouted in glee when I saw the white rock and black rock on the scales. Yes, I know...we've seen white and black rocks before in this show, but never before had they seemed this pregnant with meaning, a meaning that goes far behind the simplistic dark=bad and light=good, though that's there too. The white rock reminded me forcefully of the philosopher's stone (and here we're at the albedo stage again, with the material washed and purified, ready for the red flushing of the rubedo).

The white rock also made me think of the white stone from Revelation 2:17. This is the stone given to those who conquer, a stone on which is written a "new name." Given the fact that the phrase "black rock" conjures for us images of the slave ship of the same name, which we've seen earlier on the show, it seems to me that the difference we're being shown here, between Jacob and Smokey, and the alternatives being presented to those who (like Sawyer) find themselves needing to choose allegiances, is between servitude and freedom. Or you might say between slavery to old, outmoded lies about themselves and the joy of knowing their true selves: loved, forgiven, redeemed.

And how much do I love that it's Sawyer most explicitly confronted with this choice right now? If there is one character on LOST we long to see embrace a new name, his true name (James Ford ~ is he fording a deep river?) it's Sawyer, whose very moniker reminds us constantly of his bondage to his past.

Old Friends in New (or Old) Places

One of the many reasons I loved Rebecca Stead's When You Reach Me (the 2010 Newbery Medal winner) is the way in which she wove in so many wonderful mentions of Madeleine L'Engle's A Wrinkle in Time. I love it when characters in books reference other characters and stories I know and love. It makes the world of fiction so interrelated, and gives me a definite "point of contact" with the characters, similar to how I feel more deeply connected to someone in real life when I discover we share a love for a book.

So I loved it in Cynthia Lord's Rules when we see Catherine reading the Harry Potter books in the doctor's office while she waits for her autistic brother David at his many therapy appointments.

And of course I've always enjoyed the fact that Jess and Leslie, when they create their kingdom of Terebithia in Katherine Paterson's Bridge to Terebithia, refer to Narnia. But I just recently discovered another lovely reference at the beginning of chapter 6, when one of Jess' older sisters is trying to tease him about his friendship with Leslie:

"He tried to ignore her. He was reading one of Leslie's books, and the adventures of an assistant pig keeper were far more important to him than Brenda's sauce."

I wish you could have seen my smile when I got to those words. I must have skimmed right over this line a dozen times before in all the many times I've read and re-read Terebithia in the past 20 plus years. "Assistant pig keeper" didn't send up any flags or set off any bells until now because, until this past year, I hadn't read Lloyd Alexander's wonderful Chronicles of Prydain. But Taran, the assistant pig keeper of those stories, has become one of my favorite characters in literary fantasy. How marvelous that Kat Paterson, writing just a decade or so after Alexander, slipped this small tribute right into the flow of her own story.

Alchemical LOST?

Geek question of the week…

Is LOST working within an alchemical framework?

I know I’ve been sitting at the feet of John Granger for a few years now, so you could say I have alchemical imagery on the brain. But as I’ve pondered the first couple of shows this final season, I find myself wondering if the show’s writers are somehow tapping into, if not a full alchemical framework, at least some serious alchemical imagery.

What makes it difficult to ascertain, beyond the fact that this isn’t literature on the page, is that we really don’t have just one central character. We have a whole group (or groups) of them, all of them seeming to struggle toward redemption and purification. But whether or not you look at the alchemical journey in terms of the community story arc, or just one central character, like Jack Shephard, some of the imagery seems to leap off the screen.

I’ve been particularly pondering it at the beginning of this sixth and final season because our characters have certainly been through plenty of nigredo moments. Think about Jack in L.A., but really think about any of them and the kinds of things they’ve gone through in recent months, on and off the island.

Although I think it’s possible that you’ve got frameworks within frameworks (individual characters at different places in the journey toward purification; individual seasons with discrete alchemical frameworks from start to finish, working like a book in a series) I think it’s possible we’re also seeing the show as a whole working within the three symbolic stages. And if that’s the case, I think season 6 is beginning with the albedo stage and working steadily toward the rubedo.

Here are some of the clues I’ve noticed. I’m going to go out on a limb and say that when the screen went to white, instead of its traditional black, at the end of season 5, that was our signal that we were beginning the transition from the nigredo to the albedo stage. Think about it: our survivors, when they detonated the bomb (in their attempted time reboot) have seemingly been “reborn” (their old, outmoded selves “dead”) into a new state of being. Or maybe two states of being, given our island timeframe and the sideways timeframe, where we’ve actually met with former characters who have died (Locke, Boone, Charlie…)

If you miss the symbolism of dying to their old selves, the show gave us an exploded hatch that literally functioned as a grave for Juliet ~ and yes, tragic Juliet shares a name with one of the most famous couples in alchemical literary history. Sawyer descends beneath the earth to try to retrieve Juliet, who dies in his arms. He carries her back above ground, and not long after receives a message from her (via Miles, who can listen to the dead) that seems to indicate the explosion “worked.” Worked how? To give them back their lives? The survivors, of course, were always mixed in their hopes and fears of what it might accomplish, but there has always been some doubt that a reboot would restore them to their pre-crash selves. What if a reboot somehow restores them instead to new-forged, purified selves? Or at least to an ongoing process of purification toward that end?

At the moment, of course, they seem to be existing in two alternative time frames, but it seems as though the time-frames may somehow be connected, and that washing/purification (the work of the albedo stage, which readies the material/person being purified for new life/resurrection) is possibly going on in both, or is reflected in one while going on in the other. Isn’t it fascinating to note the places where things keep happening in 2004 sideways world that seem to mirror, or echo things that have happened on the island? Jack saving Charlie’s life, Kate connecting with pregnant Claire (is Kate destined to be at Aaron’s birth, whenever/wherever it may occur?).

The water/washing symbolism seems especially potent right now. We’ve plunged beneath the ocean from the skies. We’ve seen Sayid, literally, physically dead, put into a healing pool. What that might or might not have affected, we don’t know, and there are troubling indications that dark is on the rise in some of our survivors, including Sayid and Claire, but still. We’ve seen Sawyer, of all people, dissolved in tears. Actually, the possibility that the water of the healing pool and the water of Sawyer’s tears could be functioning on some alchemical symbolic level gives me the best hope I have at the moment that we’re not going to lose either man totally to the powers of smoky darkness.

Beyond the things I’ve already mentioned as alchemical possibilities, I have to mention this one: doppelgangers. As John Granger writes (in his book Unlocking Harry Potter) “This staple of 19th century Gothic and romantic fiction is of a creature or pair of creatures that have complementary figures or shadows, which shadows reveal aspects of their character otherwise invisible.” In the HP stories, all sorts of things functioned as doppelgangers: twins, brothers, half-breeds, liminal characters, etc. In LOST, it seems to me we have a storyline currently run amok with doppelgangers, from the re-animated bodies (“claimed”? by Jacob’s nemesis Smoky, and/or potentially by Jacob?) to the timeline doubles of our castaways themselves. However else the double-timeline story plays itself out, I don’t think we can get away from the symbolic power of the fact that our survivors, perhaps brought to the island in part to “work out their salvation” in some sense, currently have “shadow selves.”

And I won’t even begin to speculate on the fact that of our two married couples on the island, the women are named Rose and Sun….

Or that the island has been rife with “quarreling couples” of all sorts (with Jacob and his nemesis perhaps the biggest quarrelers of all…)

I’m not arguing that the alchemical framework/imagery is the only or even most important element of the story-telling. I’ve not even convinced myself that it’s completely conscious…so much of the LOST narrative depends on references to other stories and story-telling traditions, some of them are bound to be alchemical literature. But I’d love to hear your thoughts. So my fellow geeks, have at it. Is there alchemical imagery at work in LOST?

P.S. Re: potential spoilers in the comments, please know that I am running a few days behind in my LOST watching. I generally see the current week’s show over the weekend (thank you, Erin!) so I’m only up through “What Kate Does” for now.

Reading and Writing Links

The Cybils (Children's and Young Adult Bloggers' Literary) awards have been announced. Hooray for All the World winning best picture book. We just recently read and enjoyed that one.

A belated Happy Valentine's Day! Since love is in the air, I just posted some reflections on my favorite literary couples over at Epinions. Enjoy!

Of Books, Banana Bread, and Small Bottles

I think I need to be in touch with more mom-writers.

I'm curious to know if any other mom-writers ever feel torn between vocations (that's vocations with an "o" not vacations with an "a" -- I know most moms don't get the latter!) and long for writing time.

My vocation as a mom and teacher is dear to my heart. I wouldn't trade it for anything. I love guiding my daughter, both in heart and head formation. I have days (especially perhaps during snowbound weeks when we both get cranky with cabin-fever) when I may not always do those things as well, patiently and creatively as I should, but it doesn't mean I don't love doing them and recognize them as one of the main calls God has put before me during this season of my life.

But oh, do I miss writing. Not little bits of posts on my blog, or jottings in my journal, or responses to my seminary students' essays, or reviews that earn us necessary pennies...all of which I do realize count as writing, all of which I enjoy and am grateful I get to do. I mean writing...the kind of writing I spent long stretches of adolescent and young adult time doing...short stories, poems and revisions of poems, essays, drafts of novels or scenes from novels or character sketches. The kind of writing it is very hard to squeeze into the cracks of crevices of a life filled with other things I need to do and want to do and yes, have to do. The kind of writing I tell myself, if I were truly dedicated, I would get up two hours earlier a day to do, only I'm often so tired from having to work late the night before, I just can't. Nor would it always be wise, because I need to be cogent and patient that day, not bleary and growly as I tend to be when I don't get enough sleep.

I'm truly not complaining. I know not all of it is because I'm a parent -- lots of folks are much busier parents than I, who only have one child. I know if I had gone on to have another baby back when we had real insurance, or if we'd been in good enough financial shape to adopt, I would likely still be up in the night with a baby or chasing a toddler, and those seasons, in particular (the infant/toddler seasons) are so good but exhausting on very different levels.

Back when the sweet girl was a baby, and I was still in that wonderful though challenging season, I remember reading very wise words from Debra Rienstra, in her lovely book Great With Child. I can't recall the exact wording (nor find the quote right now) but the image has stayed with me now for almost eight years. She talked about the season of intense, active mothering of very small children, and imagined it as a bottle with a very slender neck. There's only so much you can pour at once into a small-necked bottle, she said, and so you have to be very careful what you pour, choosing wisely how to spend your energy. But she also encouraged mothers to remember that not every season of life is a bottle with such a slender neck. Value the precious slender-neck bottle time, and remember that one day, that bottle will widen and you will have more room to pour.

I remember feeling so encouraged by that, both in the hope it held out (my horizons will widen again, and my energy deepen) but in the timely reminder that the time I was in right then was precious and fleeting. It helped me to value that moment, yet look ahead for other moments.

And I think it's a very true image. Except...here's the thing...I'm pretty sure most of life is filled with season upon season of slender-necked bottles. Not in a bad way, but because we choose how to narrow our focus, where to spend our strengths and gifts, and we're finite, we can only do so much at a certain time if we want to do it well.

For me, the season where the bottle expands and I will have time to truly write the things I want to write has just never come. The snippets I've started spill out of notebooks and drawers, but they never seem to get anywhere. And I'm realizing it's partly due to choices I've made, and partly due to where our call as a family has taken us. We are a family involved in mission and ministry. I homeschool. I need to help bring in very necessary income, so I also work -- I teach online courses, I edit, I write, I do whatever I can to help bring in what we need. But somehow I have never found a way (never found the time) to do the kind of writing I most long to do, mostly because it has never been feasible for me to invest that kind of time when there is no guarantee of a concrete return. And given how broke we are (really) that has simply been a wise decision and a necessary one.

So I try to squeeze the time in, here and there, and most of the time that's okay. I see the value in it, and I tell myself to wait because another season is coming, at the same time that I love the season I'm in and value it.

But then I have days when I get frustrated. This is where I think talking to other moms-who-write sometimes helps. The frustrating moments are the ones where I find myself having a wonderful idea for a story, but being almost too afraid to get it to paper because I know I won't have time to really help it unfold, no stretches of writing time when I can just lose myself in the joy of writing, no writing space where I can just shut the door and write. Right now I am almost constantly on call to do other things. But I don't know what I'm afraid of -- that it might take me months? years? to write a story the way I want to write it? Consciously I know that's not a very good excuse, but it seems to stand in my way of starting or moving very far past the start of a project.

And then I have what I call the "odious comparison" days. The days when I see what other writers have accomplished (some moms too, though not all of them). I see their books, or beautifully crafted essays, or brilliant poems, and I look around at the piles of read-aloud books and at mountains of laundry and I think "hmmm...and what I have accomplished this week? Well, I made two loaves of banana bread."

Those are the moments where I have to start laughing. Laughter is better than despair any day. And who knows, in this particular season of life, maybe the making of really good banana bread is just as important as the crafting of a good story.

Getting Ready for the Beach...in February

After carefully watching my seven year old last night, I can now offer these instructions for "how to get ready for the beach...in February."

1) Carefully peel off your socks. Check.
2) Find last summer's flip-flops and rejoice they still fit. Check.
3) Roll up the sleeves of your corduroy dress. Check.
4) Push your leggings up as high as they'll go, so they're more like shorts. Check.
5) Find your sunglasses and put them on. Cool shades! Check.
6) Ditto your sunhat. Check.
7) Turn the overhead light on in the front hall, the energy-saving one that lights up gradually, "like a sunrise." Check.
8) Open the red paper parasol (the one from Daddy's prop stash) and position it carefully so it looks like a beach umbrella. Check.
9) In blissful denial of the something like two feet of snow outside our house (no joke, the piles are huge and it JUST KEEPS SNOWING) flop down under your beach umbrella and happily sun yourself. Check.

Now you're all ready for the beach...in February! Don't forget some light reading...

The Countdown Begins: Fuse #8's Top 100 Children's Novels

Hooray! Betsy Bird, blogging as Fuse #8 over at SLJ, has officially tabulated her poll results. She began counting down the top 100 children's novels (chapter books for mid-grade readers) yesterday.

Here are #s55-51.
And the link to #s60-56.
Here's #s65-61.
Click here for #70-66.
Check here for #s75-71.
Here's the link to #s80-76.
Here's a link to #s85-81.
You can find #s90-86 here.
And #s100-91 are here.

She's writing up extensive notes on each book, and including various covers, interesting tidbits about film adaptations and other resources. It's excellent reading for anyone who loves children's literature.

I've already cheered the inclusion of some favorites, and been intrigued by a couple of titles I don't know well.

And yes, I did vote. After all the results are published, I will post my top ten list (well, actually I ended up with a top twenty...but only the first ranked ten counted for the poll).

ETA: I've decided to keep updating this post with links as Betsy keeps putting up her posts, so eventually links to all entries can be found here. Fun note following her fifth post today (Feb. 12): actually only one of my top ten has made the poll so far (I was thinking two, but forgot that I'd had to drop the other book down into my second ten due to limited space). But a handful of books in my unofficial top twenty-five, and several other books I love, have made the cut! And of course, my TBR list is growing...

Thankful Monday

A few months ago I decided to begin making regular "gratitude lists" -- lists of specific things I'm thankful for. The idea is to do this on a regular basis, preferably weekly. I got the idea from Ann Voskamp's Gratitude Community/Multitude Monday on her beautiful blog A Holy Experience.

I've been more conscious of counting my blessings, but it hasn't always translated into actual lists on the blog each Monday. Mondays seem to get here so quickly, and to move past in such a blur! Maybe that's part of the challenge, actually, to move into the new school/work week (following a day of rest) conscious of new blessings.

So here I go again...so thankful on this Monday for...

30) Light on snow. Is there anything more dazzling than early morning sunlight on pristine layers of white? It sparkles like a carpet of diamonds. Breath-taking.

31) Snow on trees. Especially as it was falling, falling, falling. At midnight, as Friday turned to Saturday, I peeked through the blinds in our front room and looked out the window, just in awe over the white and silver and pink that had turned the ordinary world of our urban landscape into fairyland. The midnight sky was pink, truly, pale and and luminous like the inside of an oyster shell, and snow poured onto the branches of the nearby sycamore trees. Their limbs looked drenched in beauty.

32) The delight of a child playing in snow. My little girl had never had so much snow to play with, in her seven and a half years. She was astonished by the piles, amazed by how easy it was to build a *really big* snowman with her Daddy (we named him Sebastian, and he's still guarding our front door, carrot nose and all -- not at all one of the little mini-snowmen we usually have to content ourselves with each winter) and giggled over trying to walk, in her unwieldy layers of clothing, through the heavy snow.

33) A warm home. Oh how thankful we were that the power, after a very brief outtage in the night as the snow poured down, came back on.

34) A day when no alarm clocks were set at all. Our church had to cancel services yesterday, and though that was unfortunate, we truly enjoyed a day of rest. We all slept in, and the sleep was delicious, especially after so much time spent playing in the snow and digging out the car (the grown-up version of snow playing isn't nearly as much fun!)

35) Midsummer picnics in Mr. Knightley's strawberry garden and on Box Hill...in February. Yes, I decided to re-read Emma last week. I do love reading Austen anytime, anywhere, but winter reads are forever my favorite.

36) Time to finish listening to a story. My husband and I have been listening to the wonderful audio versions of the Chronicles of Prydain by Lloyd Alexander. In recent weeks we'd slowed to a crawl, just so busy we hadn't had time to listen (except late at night when we were too tired). But being snowed in for two days has so many advantages. We finally finished The Black Cauldron (I was so eager for him to hear the finish, which is so different in the book than in the awful movie that bears so little resemblance to the book). If you've never heard James Langton read these books, you've missed out. I especially love his Eilowny voice!

37)The safe return of my sister and her husband from their vacation in Puerto Rico. I'm so thankful they were able to take some beautiful time away.

Snow Had Fallen, Snow on Snow...

I know it's not anywhere near the bleak midwinter, but I've still had the Christina Rossetti hymn in my head all day...

Lots of other areas got much more, but this is still the biggest snowfall (at 15 inches or so) that we've ever seen in our twelve plus years in this river valley.



Our little snow-angel loves it!



It looks beautiful on the sycamores.



The small tree on the corner (some sort of cedar, I think) seemed less sure. I wasn't sure whether or not it looked more like he was bent over from carrying the heavy burden of winter, or bowing in humble awe and respect at what powerful winter had wrought in the space of several hours. I'm hoping he will fully rebound.

2009: The Year of the Re-Read (Finally, My Favorite Books)

I’m late posting my annual ruminations on favorite books, but it’s taken me a while to pull the list together and to think about what I especially loved...and why. It struck me mid-way through these ponderings that, although I read a number of good books in 2009, many of my favorites were re-reads. That seems appropriate during a year in which I read (for the first time!) C.S. Lewis’ An Experiment in Criticism, a book in which Lewis eloquently defends the practice of re-reading.

So I’ve dubbed 2009 "the year of the re-read" – but that doesn’t mean there weren’t some new gems along the way. Let me dive right into my usual categories – though I plan to make a few alterations to categories along the way too. As always, links are to my reviews on Epinions.

Favorite History Book of the Year: Susan Wise Bauer’s History of the Ancient World. Yes, I finished it! And it was truly worth reading, even (or especially) in the slow-mining way I read it, over the course of much longer than one year. Bauer does a great job of chronicling and organizing history over vast amounts of time, giving you the grand sweep but also finding narrative pockets where you can settle down and nestle. I have not yet reviewed it, but still plan to (and will post a link here when I do). And now, of course, I’m all primed for her History of the Medieval World, coming out this spring, though I’m waiting until I can afford a copy ~ these long, heavy books are not the kind I can check out of the library and expect to get through within the allotted time. They’re bedside books for sure, and books I want in our family library. I’m pretty sure we will use these for high school history studies, Lord willing and we’re still homeschooling.

Favorite Children’s Biography of the Year: Lincoln and His Boys, by Rosemary Wells, illustrated by P.J. Lynch. In a year stuffed with good children’s biographies of Lincoln (since it was his 200th birthday) this one really stood out, both for its text and its pictures.

Favorite Biography of the Year: Conundrums for the Long Weekend, by Robert Kuhn McGregor and Ethan Lewis. I’m cheating a bit choosing this, since it’s not straightforward biography. Instead, it’s a great genre-rolling of biography, literary analysis and social history. This was a big Sayers year for me, and I happened to be reading this alongside a more traditional biography of Sayers. Conundrums beat it hands down by providing a memorable portrait of Sayers both in the context of pre-war England and in the context of her wonderful books about Lord Peter Wimsey.

Picture Book Author of the Year: I'm going with Lois Ehlert, because her visual artwork has meant so much to the sweet girl. Here are my reviews of Pie in the Sky and Oodles of Animals.

Best Devotional Book: Aidan, Bede and Cuthbert, by David Adam. Not really a devotional book per se, but I still loved the devotional sections at the end of each chapter. Adam does a great job of presenting historical profiles, but also in providing opportunities to practice lectio divina with Scriptures and prayers that seem to flow out of the profiles.

Best Novel I Read This Year: Gaudy Night, by Dorothy Sayers

Best Novel I Re-Read This Year: Gaudy Night, by Dorothy Sayers. Seriously, nothing beat it, so it wins both categories. And I did read it twice ~ yes, two re-reads of the same novel within about a three month period!

The re-read choice was difficult decision because I re-read several truly great novels this year, including Deathly Hallows, Northanger Abbey, To Kill A Mockingbird, and The Hobbit. But Gaudy Night moved me at all sorts of levels: emotionally, spiritually, aesthetically. I found myself utterly fascinated to see how Sayers grew this kind of book out of the earlier, much fluffier (or so it seems to me) Wimsey books. Her development of the character of Harriet Vane, culminating in this novel, is a writer’s tour de force.

Favorite Book of Literary Analysis/Criticism: The Company They Keep: C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien and Writers in Community by Diana Pavlac Glyer. This actually may have been my favorite book of the year. Period.

Best “pop culture” book: Hmm. I didn't really read much in pop culture or cultural studies this year. Apparently I was reading more in this area back when I inagurated this list four years ago.

Favorite “new to me” children’s book, mid-grade reader (8-12 year olds): The Magician’s Elephant by Kate DiCamillo

Favorite “new to me” young adult book (12-15 year olds): The Shadow of the Bear by Regina Doman

Best Children’s Book I Re-Read This Year: A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett. This is one of those books I've always loved but had never read aloud until now. Wow. Does it read aloud powerfully. I think one of my favorite reading memories from 2009 will be finishing this book in the car (by the light of a very tiny booklight) on the way to Grandma's for Thanksgiving. A long, tiring day and trip, and yet every single one of us was hanging on the final chapters of this lovely, classic tale, and the physical journey seemed much shorter than usual.

Classic Book I Can’t Believe I’d Never Read Before Now: The Black Cauldron, by Lloyd Alexander. All I knew about this book was that it had been made into a pretty bad Disney movie. What a joy to discover the book itself, and the whole Prydain series.

Favorite “new to me” picture book: My choice: Old Bear by Kevin Henkes; the sweet girl's choice: Billy Twitters and His Blue Whale Problem by Mac Barnett and Adam Rex. Yes, her picture book taste is becoming older and more sophisticated than mine, especially when it comes to humor! I actually thoroughly enjoyed Billy Twitters, but I still have a soft spot in my heart pictue books like Henkes' ~ simple stories, beautifully illustrated, more geared for the preschool crowd. I know I no longer have a preschooler in the house, but I suspect I shall always appreciate books like this.

Book I Wish I Hadn’t Wasted My Time Reading: Thankfully, no book really fits that category this year. Even in reads I found less than stellar, I found some unexpected learnings.

Book I Should Have Finished (and still plan to): The Rise of Evangelicalism by Mark Noll. See post from last week...I'm still wending my way through it!

The Book That Surprised Me The Most: No one book springs especially to mind for this category this year.

The Book That Made Me Laugh the Most: Rapunzel’s Revenge by Shannon Hale and A Long Way From Chicago by Richard Peck

Book That Challenged Me the Most: I’ve picked three titles this year, for utterly different reasons. The Company They Keep challenged me to really think about a writer’s work in the context of community, and to look at my own need (as a writer and a human being) for real community. John Granger's Harry Potter’s Bookshelf challenged me to read more deeply no matter what I’m reading (thank you, John!). And Enna Burning, the second and most challenging book of a four book series I enjoyed, made me work hard to tease out the interrelationships of meaning, worldview, and artistry and how one evaluates the latter when tripped up by the former.

Favorite “new to me” mystery writer: There isn’t one this year. I simply didn’t read many mysteries this year, at least not after the first quarter. After gorging at the Sayers banquet table, nothing else (and nothing contemporary) seemed to taste very good. So I’ll add a new category this year:

Favorite “new to me” fantasy writer: Lloyd Alexander. How did I miss him in my childhood? I think the Prydain Chronicles should be part of every child's foray into literary fantasy. I think Alexander's work would fit well as a bridge between Lewis (still the best introduction to literary fantasy for younger children) and Rowling, with Tolkien crowning them all.

Favorite “new to me” Spiritual Resource or Bible for Children: Angels, Angels All Around by Bob Hartman and Early Saints of God by Bob Hartman. Saints was not actually new to me/us, but this was the year the sweet girl completely fell in love with it. We read through it all the way, not once, but twice. She was so inspired by the lives of some of these saints, and I was so inspired by seeing her inspired! In fact, it’s thanks to the story of St. Cuthbert that she’s moved naturally (at no urging or compelling from us) into a regular quiet/alone time reading her Bible for a few minutes each evening.

Favorite Book of Theological Reflections: Probably Aidan, Bede and Cuthbert again by David Adam though I also enjoyed Is Your Lord Large Enough? How C.S. Lewis Expands Our View of God by Peter Schakel

It occurs to me that I should begin adding poetry to this list each year, if nothing else to inspire myself to read more. I actually read a fair amount of poetry online, but it's rare I read (or even "read at") a full-length book of poetry for adults. One of the best parts of the 2009 reading year, for me, as reader and teacher, was the excitement in the kidlitosphere over poetry month last April. The sweet girl and I read and enjoyed so much poetry together, including a number of fine collections we got from the library throughout the year. Two of our very favorites (one contemporary poet, one classic poet) were Ken Nesbitt's My Hippo Has the Hiccups, and Robert Louis Stevenson (in the series "Poetry for Young People").