Learning to Live Without a Car (and Within Limitations)

It’s been several years since our family has gone for such an extended period of time without a car. While a car is not an absolute necessity (as we’re learning once again) given our culture and location, having one sure does make life a lot easier. Here are some of the things I’ve been re-learning as we cope with being without a vehicle again.

1)      Realize that public transportation is a blessing – and it also has real limitations. Think of this the next time you see people waiting at a bus stop in broiling 90 degree heat or a freezing cold rain. When you take public transportation, you have the following blessings: someone else gets you where you need to go while you read, think, or people-watch. But you must work your life around the schedule of pick-ups and drop-offs. That means being on time to catch things (hurry! hurry!) or dawdling somewhere while you have an extended wait for the next one, no matter what the weather. Every errand you run will take longer when you factor in stops, waits, and transfers. And some places are nigh onto impossible to get to on public transportation, or will require a good bit of walking even when you take buses. Which leads me to #2….

2)      Be humble enough to ask for rides or to borrow a car. On occasion, something you need to do will be important enough that you can’t drop it from your schedule even if it’s impossible to get there via a bus or buses. The sweet girl’s psychologist appointments fall in these parameters for us right now. She is making great progress with her anxiety issues and those regularly scheduled meetings are important to her (and our) health and well-being. We literally feel we can’t drop them from our schedule. But we can’t easily get there in any way, shape or form without a car. God has blessed us with a neighbor who has allowed us to borrow her’s each week. Which leads me to #3…

3)      Consolidate your errands. If you only have a car for a couple of hours a week, you begin to think long and hard about what you can do with it while you have it. It doesn’t really matter if your schedule is inconvenienced, you may need to use that brief window of time to pick up something at a store you can’t easily get to any other way. Which leads me to #4…

4)      Get creative about meal-planning. Meal-planning is highly affected by what stores you can access.  We had grown used to shopping at a handful of stores each week/month to get the best deals we could for our meager food budget. Sometimes when you don’t have a car, that’s not possible. You make the best choices you can make given what you have in front of you. That may mean buying brands you don’t prefer, either generics that may or may not be the quality you’d like or sometimes buying name-brands for higher-prices because that’s what a store has. You will get creative, I promise you. You will discover that you can meal plan around grocery aisles you hardly used before in the one store that you can get to easily. You will discover new impetus to cook more from scratch – a good thing, but sometimes time consuming. (Again, don’t be afraid to take time. Our culture is so enamored of speed. You’ve got to step outside that mind-set because speed can’t be a priority.) And a side note here: the next time you’re tempted to think critical thoughts about someone who is poor who seems to be making less than optimum choices about how to spend their money or what to eat, remember that sometimes their choices are more limited than your choices. People can only do what they can do given what they can access.

5)      Be aware you’re going to get into good shape. We’re walking more than we’ve walked in months just to get where we need to go. The store, the bank, the post office, our church. Some of those we walk to a lot anyway, but not all the time, which has become necessary. Sometimes you will walk those places carrying heavy bags. Invest in good canvas bags. Be prepared for neck and shoulder aches. D and I have been realizing we’re not even in as good a shape as we thought we were (and we didn’t think we were that great). My legs and ankles feel perpetually tired right now. It’s not a bad thing, it’s just something to get used to in the new normal.

6)      Decide what hills you want to die on. For instance, in our family, we use the public library two towns over a lot…for pleasure, for homeschool, for teaching and writing research, for after school program planning. We get a lot of books, some of them big and heavy. Guess what? Without a car, we tote those books on the bus. I tell myself : decide now if you need seven things on the hold shelf this week or could honestly get by with three.

7)      Give yourselves lots and lots of grace. In our family, that means being willing to be as flexible as possible and to live with other people’s stresses. Given the sweet girl’s issues with OCD (and her weather-related anxieties) this is not always easy. There may be times we really can’t all get where we think we need to go in a given time frame. Guess what? It’s not the end of the world. Learn to do without. Learn to compromise. Learn to be thankful for whatever the day holds (a good lesson no matter what).

8)      Stay expectant. We’re still looking for ways to afford our car repairs. I find myself on tip-toes as I pray for open doors for more work or even an unexpected gift. We know the weather is going to get colder in the coming weeks; we know our situation isn’t the easiest for our family right now and is likely to get more challenging when that happens. We also trust God knows our needs, not just in terms of getting from point A to point B, but how much stress our little family unit can manage. This kind of situation gives you lots of exercise – not just physical exercise for your muscles, but spiritual exercise. Letting ordinary stresses deepen us, make us more grateful, humble, empathetic and hopeful is a good thing. Learning what we can live without is a good thing. Leaning ever deeper on God and trusting him to provide is a very good thing indeed.

"I Always Think There's a Band, Kid": Gospel Echoes in "The Music Man"

It’s been a Music Man week in our family.

I don’t know if your family has “go-to” movies that are the equivalent of comfort food, but our family definitely does. If The Sound of Music is our mashed potatoes movie, then The Music Man is probably our homemade mac and cheese. I got my daughter hooked on this film early (she once watched the “Marian the Librarian” scene five times in a row) though it’s only been recently that she’s been ready to sit through the whole thing. My husband and I have enjoyed watching it numerous times over the years – I think he once helped design a set for a stage production of it.

I confess I also love the movie for Marian's hat.

I fell in love with this movie in my early teen years. There was a year where I probably watched it once a month. I love its bright colors, the fact that it’s set in “my” historical era (the early 20^th century), the costumes, the creative music, the humor, the great performances. Of course I had a crush on Robert Preston, which probably goes without saying.  And it always made me smile to see little “Ronny” Howard hoofing it to “Gary, Indiana” years before he’d grow up to direct things like Parenthood and Apollo 13.

Watching it again this week – in two sittings, because it’s so long – I found myself musing again why I love this story so much. Yes, it’s funny and snarky – its caricatures of human nature draw big pictures we can all relate to on some level. The plot, like most musical plots, doesn’t hold up under intense scrutiny. And yet, there are moments in this movie that actually make me tear up, even though they come in the midst of so much delightful silliness, and even though I’ve seen them twenty-seven times. That’s the power of story for you.

All the moments, I realized, involved Harold Hill. I got to thinking about Harold Hill and why he makes such a terrific “every-man.” Despite his incredible charm, he’s really a scoundrel. OK, yes, a Han Solo kind of scoundrel, but a scoundrel nonetheless. He’s a con man, one with years of practice at hoodwinking innocent people into buying stuff they don’t need and will never really use by whipping them up into a frenzy over how important that stuff is to their health and well-being. (In other words, he’s in advertising.) He also has an eye for any side benefits he can get out of his latest con, including making time with the pretty ladies – especially the town music teachers who might figure out his con and rat on him to the authorities unless he keeps them off-kilter emotionally.

Despite his brimming confidence, a confidence that Preston plays brilliantly right down to the way he walks and gestures, you get glimpses of the fact that Harold Hill is insecure. He never stays long enough in one place to get caught – or to get close to anybody. He hides behind the mask of “music professor” – something we learn he actually isn’t – and even behind his name. His friend Marcellus, who used to run cons with him before turning legitimate and getting a job, knows him by the name of Gregory. We never find out if that, in fact, is his real name, or was just another false name he wore in some other towns he conned long ago.

Nobody in town has a clue who Harold Hill really is, perhaps most especially Harold Hill himself.

The beauty of the story comes when one person sees through all the masks he’s hiding behind to the real person underneath. Marian Paroo, herself no stranger to hiding and insecurity (just in other ways) realizes that Harold Hill is behaving shamefully. She sees that he’s a liar and a fraud pretending to be someone he’s not. She invests time in uncovering those lies, only to find that when she gets to the end of them that she doesn’t actually want to shame him in front of the town. That’s because she’s come to appreciate the gifts that Harold has, unbeknownst to himself, actually brought to them – his imagination, energy, his passion for living, his ability to make people care about something beyond their insulated little lives. She begins to see Harold not as he is, but who he might become, and she loves him, even while he’s still a mess. That’s grace.

It’s also why I tend to tear up in three places: the first when Harold, alone for a few moments (as he hardly ever is) imagines himself conducting a band just as he claims he can. We see the magic that thought brings him, and the sadness he feels when the dream disappears and leaves him with the reality of who he actually is. I’m also moved every time I see the scene where Winthrop, Marian’s little brother, who has looked up to Harold as a hero, tearfully demands, “Are you a big fat liar?” and Harold, who for once has promised the truth, exclaims “Yes!” in a great moment of confession. That’s followed quickly by the most poignant line of the movie. After Winthrop says spitefully, “What band?” throwing Harold’s lie right back in his face, Harold says sorrowfully “I always think there’s a band, kid,” reminding us of that redeemed moment in his imagination and his longing to be the man he says he is.

And then of course, there’s the other great line, not long after, when Marian, having made her beautiful declaration of gratitude for everything he’s brought them, urges Harold to go before the angry townspeople descend on him to arrest him. Even Winthrop, dejected, urges him to go. And Harold says, in a completely wondering tone… “I can’t go, Winthrop…for the first time in my life, I got my foot caught in the door.”

What a great picture of how God’s grace catches us. We’re all little Harold Hills – conning ourselves and others, hiding behind masks, intentionally and even unintentionally causing others pain. Then someone unexpectedly shows us love – love that loves us in spite of the worst it sees in us – and when we try to run again, to escape through the door we’ve always left open as our emergency hatch when anybody gets too close, we stumble on the threshold. We slow down. We stop, even though we know that it’s not the easiest choice to stop. But we can’t help it. The pull of love is too strong, the pull of truth too beautiful. We don’t want to run anymore. The Hound of Heaven has caught us. And having loved us enough to pursue us and catch us, He’s going to love us into new creatures.

Who knew The Music Man was so full of gospel echoes?

Writing Gem #1: The Fun of Asking "And Then What?"

Sixth grade has begun in our homeschool, and for the first time, we’re building creative writing time into our learning schedule each week.

We’ve done bits of creative writing in the past, but this year I am intentionally working it into our schedule, giving it some priority time in language arts. And I’m so glad we are. Not only because I love writing and teaching writing, but because teaching writing craft (how does a writer think? plan? organize? brainstorm? choose?) is a wonderfully organic way to teach literature as well. When you’re unpacking how a writer does something, you’re teaching how to analyze writing. How and why did the writer do that? is a great analytical step; the creative step comes when we apply it ourselves and our work – now how can I do that when I write?

I’m using Boris Fishman’s The Creative Writer: Level One (Five Finger Exercises) as a springboard here at the beginning of the term, but because I’m a writer, I can’t resist adding plenty of my own thoughts and exercises. We’re having fun. Today we talked about plot points (or beats). Fishman presented an excerpt from Tom Sawyer, then presented the part of the plot we’d just read in 10 points. S. liked that; she liked it even better when I asked her to verbally give me plot points for Peter Rabbit (a great, well-built plot that is both short and memorable) and even better when we brainstormed the beginning of a story together and then she took off to create plot points for where the story might go next.

The delightful part of plotting, of course, is that you can take a story in so many different directions, and you can always go back to where a story branches into a new place and change its course.

That’s the gem we took away from today’s writing time. I’m calling it gem #1, because I suspect we’re going to collect a lot of gems this year, which I will record here in case they are useful for other young, growing writers and their teachers! Perhaps when the year is done, we will string them into a necklace.

Writing Gem #1: Writers ask “and then what?” when they are crafting stories. Stories can go in lots of different directions depending on how the writer answers that question.

On the Eve of Year Seven...

It’s hard to believe we’re entering our seventh official year of homeschooling, and yet here we are! The sweet girl was so excited before she went to bed tonight. The delights she’s most looking forward to? “Brand new Ticonderoga pencils!” and “Getting to do a math lesson!”

As for me, I am in a different place than I think I've ever been at the start of a new school-year. I don't know if it's because I'm tired (quite possibly) or just more relaxed (maybe a bit of both).  I normally spend more time fussing and fretting the small stuff before we start a new year, getting things set "just so" and overthinking all my curricula choices and how we're going to tackle all the new work in the new year. It's not that I haven't done some of that thinking this year -- I have -- but I find myself thinking more of the big picture than the little details. We've had so much to learn and do and figure out this summer, and we've got so many big challenges ahead. As I told someone recently, I feel like this year is less about what we do than how we do it, and I'm peaceful about that.

I learned today that the word curriculum comes from a Latin word that means race, or racecourse. I love that. And I love that learning, and life, is a long-distance run, not a sprint.

So the first day of school muffins (blueberry) are made and ready for breakfast, and I spent the evening watching a Downton Abbey episode with my dear husband while sipping ginger ale in the fanciest, most celebratory glass I could find.

Year 7 starts tomorrow. Ready as I'll ever be!

Let Jesus Fill You With Joy

“Give Jesus not only your hands to serve, but your heart to love. Pray with absolute trust in God’s loving care for you. Let Him use you without consulting you. Let Jesus fill you with joy that you may preach without preaching.”

—Blessed Teresa of Calcutta

The Legacy of Transformed Lives

In preparation for a class I'm teaching this fall, I've begun reading Greg Ogden's Transforming Discipleship. The first two chapters, diagnosing some of the problems or challenges facing the church's understanding and practice of discipleship, is solid but not very eye-opening (in the sense that it doesn't cover much I hadn't thought about before, and it limits the understanding of discipleship issues to more or less one segment of the Christian tradition).

Where the book is beginning to get lively and thought-provoking for me is in chapter 3, "Why Jesus Invested in a Few," where Ogden ruminates upon the wisdom of Jesus' practice of investing deeply in the lives of a handful of disciples. Why not build his ministry on mass appeal and following? he asks, and reflects that...

"The very nature of a crowd is the ability to be lost in it. It costs nothing to be a part of the masses. One can either be positively or negatively inclined. A member of a crowd, such as a worshiper in a congregation, can remain lost in a sea of faces, neither having to commit nor declare loyalty. A person can be anything from a curious observer to a skeptic or bored pew-sitter. Jesus ministered to the crowd in order to call people out of it. One was not on the road to discipleship unless that person came out of the crowd to identify with Jesus. There are twin prerequisites for following Christ -- cost and commitment, neither of which can occur in the anonymity of the masses." (my emphasis)

Ogden also points out that the gospels show us the fickleness of the crowds (think about the passion week narratives, where the same crowd that shouts "Hosanna!" one day shouts "Crucify him!" the next). Jesus, he reminds us, didn't stake things on the loyalty of the crowd. He quotes A.B. Bruce who wrote "But for the twelve, the doctrine, the works, the image of Jesus might have perished from human resemblance, nothing remaining but a vague mythical tradition, of historical value, of little practical importance."

It occurs to me that isn't really an overstatement. I think often about the apostolicity of the Scriptures -- that living witness that comes down to us through the written Word. And I know I have thought often about the importance of trusting the Holy Spirit in the process of inspiration; we trust the Spirit and so trust that witness is reliable and sure. I've also thought a lot about what an oral culture Jesus lived in, and how in some ways it's not surprising that he himself did not leave a written account. But isn't it amazing and wonderful to ponder that Jesus entrusted so much of his life -- and the transmission of that life -- to his disciples? As Ogden writes:

"A former president attempts to shape the perceptions of history by writing his memoirs. Why did Jesus not choose the same approach? Jesus appeared to rely on two means to carry his life and mission forward: the Holy Spirit and the Twelve. His life was transferred to their life by his Spirit and by his association with and investment in them. The irrefutable legacy Jesus wanted to leave behind was the transformed lives of ordinary men who would carry on his work after he returned to the Father."

Happy Birthday, Harry and JKR!

I used to do an annual birthday post for JK Rowling and Harry Potter. Every July 31st, I'd roll out something from my Harry Potter archives in their honor.

It's been a couple of years since I've done one, but it seems super fitting to do one today since a) I am reading the Harry Potter books to my eleven year old this summer (and she loves them...yay!) and b) I just finished JKR's newest novel, the detective novel she wrote under the pseudonym Robert Galbraith. And I liked it very much. Review forthcoming on that some time.

So I'm actually in more of a Rowling/Harry mood than I've been in a long time, but alas, I am also exhausted after one of the hardest days I've had in a long time. My HP writings still occupy their own file, but it's been ages since I've culled through them. So I will cheerfully admit that you're getting one of the first things I happened to land on, a poem I wrote several years ago about Fred and George Weasley. It's based off a moment in Goblet of Fire, but presupposes that you know the whole seven book saga, including Fred's fate. So consider the spoiler alert issued.

Enjoy the poem. And happy birthday to Jo and Harry!

George Weasley Remembers

It’s hard to choose a favorite trick.

Pranking was our bailiwick.

We tried to do things with panache,

give fireworks some extra flash.

To laugh and make another smile

made all our efforts seem worthwhile.

So it’s hard to choose the best

and simply disregard the rest.

But now that I am quite alone

and laughter sometimes feels like stone

I think that there is just one joke

with the power to evoke

a smile but also deep regret.

When we tried to cross the line

and wound up aged for all to see,

I remember Fred’s gray hair and beard,

his lined face looking back at me.

We chortled and we shook with glee

to see ourselves so bent and old.

We loved the fact that we’d been had!

The pranksters pranked by joke so bold.

If only I had realized then

this funny glimpse was all I’d know

of old age with my brother Fred

I would have lingered longer so.

~EMP 

"He Put a New Song in My Mouth"

Once in a great while, I’m given the gift of a song. Although I write poetry fairly often, writing a song is much rarer occurrence. When words come to me with melody attached, I try very hard to listen and get it down.

That’s what happened this morning. I thought I'd share the result with you.

I couldn’t sing a song of love

If I forgot your name

The sun and moon and stars above

They all call out your name

But these tired ears are not in tune

And this heart so crammed there is no room

And I’ve forgotten how to dance in rain

Although the very drops sing out your name

I couldn’t sing a song of love

If I forgot your name

The blades of grass and blooming fields

They all announce your name

But these eyes are dry with unshed tears

And this back is bent from heavy fears

And I’ve lost my way upon this lane

Although every street sign bears your name

I couldn’t sing a song of love

If I forgot your name

The man who sits upon the bench

His face cries out your name

Open my eyes and ears to see and hear

Release my aching bones from doubt and fear

Remind me of your great and loving name

And set my whole self dancing in your rain

Oh I can sing a song of love

Because I know your name

I join a host of wondrous ones

Who all call out your name

And one day we’ll circle round your throne

We’ll come to know your name has been our home

And our memories will not fail again

We’ll dance forever in your reign

~EMP, 7/26/13

From the Day Book: Hannah More

My collection of quotes and small readings keeps growing, and I often find myself wanting to ruminate on them. Today, it's this quote from Hannah More that has me thinking.

More, by the way, was a member of the Clapham Sect, a group of British Christians responsible, in part, for the healthy reforming of English society and the abolition of slavery in Great Britain. She was also a devotional writer.

********

"Remember that life is not entirely made up of great evils or heavy trials. The perpetual recurrence of petty evils and small trials is the ordinary and appointed way to mature our Christian graces. To bear with the moodiness of those about us, with their infirmities, their bad judgments, their perverse tempers; to endure neglect where we feel we have deserved attention, and ingratitude where we expected thanks — to bear with the whole company of disagreeable people whom Divine Providence has placed in our way, and whom God has perhaps provided on purpose for the trial of our virtues — these are the best exercises for our graces; and the better because not chosen by ourselves. To meekly bear with . . .

continual vexations in our homes,
disappointments in our expectations,
interruptions in our times of rest,
the follies, intrusions, and disturbances of others;
in short, to meekly bear with whatever opposes our will and contradicts our desires is the very essence of self-denial. These constant, inevitable, and lesser evils, properly improved, furnish the best moral discipline for the Christian."

~Hannah More

*********

 "The perpetual recurrence of petty evils and small trials" -- that covers a lot of our every-day lives, doesn't it? If we're honest, most of us don't deal with the big stuff on a regular basis: the major evils, the ordeals and trials that feel too heavy to bear. While we can be thankful that is not the stuff of every-day, sometimes the "small stuff" can be the most wearing...but also the most useful in terms of training us in holiness, "the best exercises for our graces."

I love the thought that graces, virtues, holy habits, need exercise. And we get the best exercise through learning to bear with those little things that almost drive us crazy. The tweak I would add to More's words above is that we don't just have to deal with *other* people's moodiness, infirmities, bad judgements, irritable tempers -- but with our own. Chances are, we've all been the "disagreeable person" that someone else has learned their graces through, and sometimes bearing with someone else's shortcomings can feel easier than bearing with our own. This is why we need times when we're just full-out honest before God, confessing to him all the petty stuff in our own hearts and letting him wash us clean. 

Self-denial isn't a very easy thing for most of us (and we like to relegate it to seasons, like Lent) but when we stop to consider, we really practice some form of it every day. Whenever we put aside our preferences and comfort for the sake of someone else's, that's a form of self-denial. It doesn't have to be a big deal, and if we've "done our exercises," hopefully we'll discover after a time that we do the small forms without thinking about it. Such actions become second nature -- literally a "second nature," because it's really only possible for us to live in such loving, freeing ways because we've been freely loved and forgiven. Life being what it is, generally once we learn one lesson we need to learn, in bearing with our own or someone else's frailties, we discover that's just a step toward learning something else we need to learn. We grow, we learn, and God stretches us to keep learning and growing. It's a lifelong process, and Jesus is unfailingly patient and kind as we fall down, get back up, and try again.  He sees who we are and who we are becoming, and he gives us the strength we need.

Inside a Theology Major's Brain

You know you've studied theology when...

you see that a friend has given a photo album the jaunty title of "Summa Pictures," and your first thought is: "Photographs of Thomas Aquinas?"

(Go ahead. You are now free to picture Aquinas on vacation -- water-skiing, picnicking, and making bunny ears behind a friend as they pose in front of the Washington Monument.)

Singing in the Shadow

The Lord is your keeper; the Lord is your shade on your right hand. The sun shall not strike you by day, nor the moon by night. (Psalm 121:5-6)

O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water. (Psalm 63:1) 

It’s hot.

I’ve never actually lived in a sandy desert (though I’ve visited one) but I often feel like I live in an asphalt one. When you live in a city with lots of concrete and relatively few trees, you begin to relate more to the biblical psalmists who spoke of the wilderness in such graphic terms.

When it’s really hot, like it’s been this week, it can be hard to feel like moving. Taking actual physical steps, especially after you’ve been walking awhile, requires effort. You become aware that you’re moving bulk (yourself) through air. Unlike actual deserts, which usually experience dry heat, summer heat in our parts contains humidity – and that brings its own discomfort. The moist dampness of the air makes it feel like you’re pushing through water. The sweat rolls down your back, neck, and face, and the back of your throat begins to sting. 

All you can think about is getting home and getting a cool drink of water. You try to trick your mind into thinking about something else – the number of steps to the end of the sidewalk, the flowers on the side of the road, the person you wanted to remember in prayer, the scene in the story you’re writing – so you don’t spend all your mental energy picturing condensation on the outside of a cold glass.

This morning I was having a walk like that and my mind kept straying to my need for shade. I was walking home on a street only recently built in our town. At the moment, it’s surrounded by lots full of broken rubble. No trees, no buildings of any sort, nothing that cast a shadow. Block after block was just concrete sidewalk, hardy flowering weeds, the sun glaring into my eyes. I felt huge relief as I turned at last onto the main street of town and stepped into the shade of an old vine-covered building whose roof awnings cast a comforting dark shadow. 

“The Lord is your shade at your right hand.” Oh, the beauty and blessedness of that cool shadow! This is who God is! He’s deep, cooling, calming relief from the smiting of the sun, from the weariness of the long and exhausting walk. God is our shade.

Of course, the psalmist isn’t content to give us just one metaphor for God, and sometimes the images overlap in their meaning and power. It’s no wonder David sometimes called God his rock – not just because a rock is strong and provides shelter and a place to lean and hide behind when pursued by enemies, but because a large enough rock, in a sandy desert, could cast some shade in a gaspingly hot desert with few trees. Like my vine-covered building here in town, a rock in the desert is a welcome sight. 

The Psalms also give us similes that help us understand our own gasping need for God. “My soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.” As hot as my walk got this morning, I knew that I was just a few minutes away from the cool oasis of my apartment. A place where the shades were down and I could turn on a fan. A place where I could rest and drink a cool drink of water. But what if I were miles from such comforts? What if such comforts didn’t exist where I was? What if I lived in “a dry and weary land where there is no water”?

 The psalmist tells us that our longing for God, our desperation for him, should be like that. We should be as desperate for him, as aware of our need for him, as someone gasping with heat and thirst in a parched land. But here’s the good news…the psalmist also reminds us that God is our shade. When he travels with us, as he surely does, he’s like a hovering bird who shelters us under his own wings (verse 7 in that same Psalm 63 says “for you have been my help, and in the shadow of your wings I will sing for joy”). 

And here’s the even better news: God is both the one who makes streams in the desert (Isaiah, and so many other places in the Scriptures) and is himself the living water (Jesus!). Living water – not just a well of water, which is wonderful enough when we’re parched -- but flowing, lively, gushing, unexpected water. Water that springs up inside us. 

I think one of the tricks of the enemy is to get us to think, when we’re exhausted and wearied by the changes and chances of our lives, that we live in place where there is no water. We know what it feels like when our flesh is truly fainting.  Our desert hearts pound and our parched wilderness throats sting and our gritty eyes smart with the glare of the world. No rocks in sight. No trees. Maybe not even one vine-covered building. We lose our bearings. We lose our perspective. We lose our hope. We can even lose, if we’re not careful, our grip on the realities of things outside of the immediate facts of our aches and sweat and tears. 

But…

The reality is that he is our shade.

The reality is that he is our living water.

The reality is that, even if there’s no rock or building in sight, he travels with us and can cover us with his wings.

We live in a world that can sometimes feel as barren as a desert. You may be living in circumstances that feel like the worst kind of parched place – a sandy desert or an urban concrete one, or something else entirely. But remember the reality: you live in a land where there is shade and water. God himself is your shade, your water. If there are no other shadows in sight, he will keep you under his wings. Long for him and seek for him. You will find him, and he will give you rest. 

Old Questions

While cleaning (or rather excavating) her room yesterday, the sweet girl came upon an old post-it note. About seven years old, I think, judging from what it had jotted on it...some questions she had asked me when she was about four or possibly five years old.

I had forgotten that I used to write her questions down. It's a great practice, and it was fun for both of us to see these, to remember a time when these were the burning questions on her mind, the things she was most curious about.

*Why do we eat with our mouths?

*Why is there no 13 o'clock? Why do we go round twice? (Meaning why does the clock go around twice in two segments of 12 hours each, rather than just counting up to 24...I remember when she asked that!)

*Why does the moon sometimes come up in the daytime?

That last one especially made her grin, since she's become something of a moon phase scholar in the past year.

Seeing these made me feel nostalgic, not just for the days of such innocent questions, but for the days when I felt at least semi-capable of answering what she asked.

The questions coming at us so quickly these days are more challenging. I know every season is good, every part of growing up a blessing -- so I don't really want to rewind or fast-forward (though fast-forward has felt like a temptation lately)! But every once in a while, it's definitely fun to revisit times gone by.

Practicing Patience

I am learning to practice patience.

I used to think I was already a pretty patient person, but in the past year or so, the Lord has been stretching and deepening me in so many ways in this one area that I know now it must be an area that needed lots more work than I thought.

Having a daughter who struggles with OCD and high anxiety levels, I’ve had to learn new levels of calm and patience. There are days I fail miserably, but there are other days, with God’s help, that I am discovering new levels of peace.

It’s hard, sometimes, to know what’s best in a given situation. On the one hand, the sweet girl needs to lean to deal with ordinary stress and brokenness in healthy ways – the things that cause her to bolt into worry-land. On the other hand, there are days when my own heart just can’t take any more of the worrying and anxiety and explosiveness (her struggling reactions in some moments). Keeping my own fretting levels to a minimum – and even finding laughter in a situation – helps to defuse the situation and keep the peace.

This is hard on days when I am just plain tired, and when life seems filled with little things that make me want to – well, be frustrated. But my seemingly normal levels of frustration, my “oh shoot, I dropped that!” or “arrrgh! This isn’t working!” can sometimes be enough to push her into more stress. She has a hard time discerning small, normal, ordinary, every-day stress from the bigger kinds. I am learning saying less often leads to more household peace. And discovering, as I learn the self-control of swallowing those exclamations, just how much of my speech could be taken as whining, complaining, or weariness by those around me.

I am a woman who has many blessings, and who likes to count them (in fact, I’m overdue for a blessings-counting post here) but I confess that occasionally I just need a safe place to whine a little bit, and sometimes that complaining makes its way to the blog. So in the interest of helping me say none of this aloud today, could I just say that both my small, falling-apart, duct-taped together fridge and my so-slow-it-may-as-well-be-working-backwards computer are driving me crazy? Thanks so much for listening.

I return now to my regularly scheduled bout of patience.

Summertime Learning: (Or, "We All Get To Be Unschoolers!")

A homeschooling forum I like to visit often makes me smile. I love seeing the posts from parents new to homeschooling who are raring to go and wondering how they're going "to fit it all in." I love seeing the "relax and calm down and let learning happen" posts from the veterans. And I especially love the occasional posts from the veterans who, in that beautiful human way we all have, sometimes lapse again into the "argh! how am I going to fit it all in?" cry.

As educators and parents, homeschoolers or not, I think we've all been there about a hundred times: there is just so much we want to show and teach and inspire our kids with (and in our information age, so much of it seems right at our fingertips) and yet our time is limited. The length of days and our own quotas of energy are finite. There is only so much learning one can bring into a day, week, month, or school year and still have it be effective. There comes a time when we have to take a break, relax, and play -- and yes, I know learning happens in those times too, because really learning never stops. We're always people in formation.

I know some people school year round with intermittent breaks. But for those who take long summer breaks, like we do in our household, I think it's important to remember some of the great ways more formal bits of learning can still infiltrate the summer hours. This is good news for those of us (pointing to myself) who occasionally freak out because we didn't quite make it through that last history or science unit at the end of the school year because we were just too tired -- and our kids were crazy with spring fever.

First, the obvious ways:

Camps/Family Trips/Gardening

Because all of those are great opportunities for learning new skills, seeing new places, and making new friends.

Summer Reading

There are so many ways to inspire your kids to summer reading: bookstore programs, library programs, family generated programs. And then, of course, there is just the old-fashioned way: put a lot of books in front of them and give them copious amounts of down time to read. Yesterday morning, my daughter woke up and didn't feel like getting up for the day, so I let her stay in bed an extra hour and read. She loved it. So hard to imagine doing that in...say...November...but it fits with July.

Quiz Games

My daughter loves trivia games, the question and answer kind like Brain Quest. I've come to love them too. We've been doing Brain Quest cards a lot this summer, using some of the 5th grade level ones we found at a recent library sale. They're not only fun, they help me see what "gaps" exist in my rising sixth graders' knowledge. Yes, sometimes that means I'm recalling the units and subjects we didn't get to as much as I planned last year (Native Americans, botany....) It's also fun to realize all the things your children know that you had no clue they knew. And it provides some mental math practice.

Creative Prompts

Summer is a great time to inspire your kids to write in a journal or to paint or write. If they need creative prompts, there are a variety you can use, online or homemade. We've been having a lot of fun with a set of "Story Cubes" my sister got for us during her recent birthday visit. It's a set of nine dice with different images on each surface. Roll the dice and let the images prompt you to wordplay and storytelling. You could make your own similar set of prompts. Picture prompts, household item prompts...whatever works.

Learning Links

There are so many good online sites that provide regularly updated or daily links. We use some of these during the school year, but in the midst of busy, routine days (when you're trying to make sure you get in all the grammar you need to) it's easy to forget. Summer is a fun time to refresh or update your bookmarks and to let yourselves spend some time just enjoying those resting places for hearts and minds. For instance, this summer my daughter has been making the re-acquaintance of Astronomy Picture of the Day.

Learning Trails

This might be my favorite part of relaxed, "down-time" learning -- the opportunity to chase down learning trails. Theoretically, we try to build this into our school year too -- if something really sparks a learning passion, I try to find ways to guide my daughter to learn more about it. Practically speaking, this is harder to encourage during the school year unless you're an unschooler who lives by that method of learning. The cool thing is that in summer, we all get to be unschoolers for a while! When you're not needing to make sure that the math test is completed, it's a lot easier to say "sure, why don't you learn everything you want to about the Apollo space missions?"  That's been my daughter's favorite learning trail this summer. She's also enjoyed learning about Helen Keller.

There are lots of other ways to build relaxed learning into the summer: cooking projects, craft projects, museums, sporting events, a poem a day. The possibilities are endless. And yes, a lot of these can be elements of a learning life no matter what time of year. There's just something about the less structured season of summer that lends itself to thinking outside the box.

Two Movements: Into and Out of the Sanctuary

This week I have my students thinking and writing about the different ways the Anglican church engaged the culture in the 19th century. The Oxford Movement, with its emphasis on the "church gathered" and the importance of gathering in worship to "be the church," sometimes had reservations about the Evangelical movement and its commitment to social action, the way it was "being the church" within the world. (This would be the second generation of the Evangelical revival, folks like Wilberforce and his Clapham friends.)

The distinction drawn, for the sake of the question, is purposefully overdrawn for the sake of compelling thought and discussion. Of course the higher church folk often engaged the culture "in the world" in specific ways, and of course the Evangelicals didn't cease to gather in worship to remember who they were. It's more a matter of emphasis, of looking at where each found its firmest understanding of who they were and where they stood. But it's a good question and a perennial one: what does it mean to be church, and how do we best relate to the world around us with fresh gospel energy?

So during my morning quiet time, when I came across this passage in Eugene Peterson's Eat This Book, I just had to chuckle:
 

 "The task of liturgy is to order the life of the holy community following the text of Holy Scripture. It consists of two movements. First it gets us into the sanctuary, the place of adoration and attention, listening and receiving and believing before God. There is a lot involved, all the parts of our lives ordered to all aspects of the revelation of God in Jesus.

Then it gets us out of the sanctuary into the world into places of obeying and loving, ordering our lives as living sacrifices in the world to the glory of God.  There is a lot involved, all the parts of our lives out on the street participating in the work of salvation."

Two movements. Into the sanctuary, out of the sanctuary. Both involving the same kinds of actions: listening, loving, obeying, believing, ordering, giving God glory. Both involving all parts of us. Amen. Yes.

"A Song of Peace"

Thinking about independence day here in the U.S. And thinking about Egypt. And India. And Kenya. And Uganda. And Australia. And France. And Indonesia. And Brazil. And on and on.

And thinking about the Kingdom of God, with a story so much more vast and deep and wide than any nation's story, though it encompasses peoples of every nation and their stories too.

Thinking of "A Song of Peace."

This is my song, O God of all the nations,
A song of peace for lands afar and mine.
This is my home, the country where my heart is;
Here are my hopes, my dreams, my sacred shrine.
But other hearts in other lands are beating,
With hopes and dreams as true and high as mine.

My country’s skies are bluer than the ocean,
And sunlight beams on cloverleaf and pine.
But other lands have sunlight too and clover,
And skies are everywhere as blue as mine.
O hear my song, O God of all the nations,
A song of peace for their land and for mine.

This is my song, O God of all the nations,
a prayer that peace transcends in every place;
and yet I pray for my beloved country --
the reassurance of continued grace:
Lord, help us find our one-ness in the Savior,
in spite of differences of age and race. 

May truth and freedom come to every nation;
May peace abound where strife has raged so long;
That each may seek to love and build together,
A world united, righting every wrong;
A world united in its love for freedom,
Proclaiming peace together in one song.

This is my prayer, O Lord of all earth's kingdoms:
Thy kingdom come; on earth thy will be done.
Let Christ be lifted up till all shall serve him,
And hearts united learn to live as one.
O hear my prayer, thou God of all the nations;
Myself I give thee, let thy will be done.

(first stanzas by Lloyd Stone in 1934, last three by Georgia Harkness in 1939

Happy Landings

Summer seems to be flying by. I'm writing a lot...just not here. I miss blogging and hope to get back to it more regularly soon.

In the meantime, for the first time in quite a while, I looked over my blog stats. I always find it especially fun to see what searches bring people to this space. Tonight, it made me laugh with delight to see some of the recent reasons people landed here. I love that people find my words because they're looking for:

Jessica Powers poetry
Hydrangeas
Emily Dickinson poetry
Renoir
Austen
Alcott

And...oh yes...Veggie Tales.

It truly makes me happy to know when people are searching for beauty via poetry, art, novels, and flowers (not to mention talking vegetables) they land here.

Keep coming back. More beauty soon.

Reading Round-Up: The "Turning Eleven" Edition

With the sweet girl on the eve of her 11^th birthday, I thought it might be fun to share a little of what she’s reading these days.

Most recently, she’s enjoyed The Magic Half by Annie Barrows. (This is not to be confused with Edgar Eager’s Half-Magic, another book she’s enjoyed in the past year.) The Magic Half is about two girls who share a room, decades apart. The girl in the present time travels back to help the girl in the past.

In the evenings, we’re enjoying Shannon Hale’s sequel to Princess Academy, Palace of Stone. We’re also wending our way slowly through Anne of Avonlea, the second Anne of Green Gables book. We’re not getting much daytime reading because of camp, but it’s still nice to have a fall-back read-aloud book that’s this good.

I’ve also seen her reading Jean Craighead George’s All Upon A Sidewalk; Sharon Creech’s Hate That Cat (novel-in-poetry sequel to Love That Dog) and Annie Barrow’s Ivy and Bean.

She bogged down part-way through her reading of The Hobbit (which she heard read aloud last year) but (shh!) she’s getting her own rather nifty copy for her birthday. And yes, she’s getting her own copy of A Crooked Kind of Perfect by Linda Urban (because she loves that book so much). I am also secretly tap-dancing for joy (did you know you could do that?) because we’re giving her Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. I’ve been planning to introduce the series to her on her eleventh birthday (since the stories start on Harry’s eleventh) since she was about five years old and mispronounced Jo Rowling’s name to rhyme with Growling. She’s been to Narnia and Prydain and been introduced to Middle-earth, so I really think she’s ready for Harry. And I’m always ready to re-read Harry!

In the evenings, we’ve been enjoying the third volume of the Family Read-Aloud series by Augsburg Fortress Press. This one is called Explorers for God and follows up on Early Saints of God (a book we’ve loved for years) and Kings and Queens for God. This is a delightful church history series that is, unfortunately, out of print, but I was blessed to find used copies of the second and third volumes recently.

Praying Through the "I"s

There are moments when the Lord speaks to your heart...and then speaks again and again. You can practically see his hand turning the pages of your busy life to get you focused again on the page he wants you on. I even sometimes get the sense that he is literally guiding my head, placing his hands gently on it and turning me in the direction he wants me to look. "There...there! Do you see it? There!"

We've been praying through a prayer book of unreached peoples with our Sunday School children for the past couple of years, impressing on their hearts and minds the need for people to be introduced to the gospel in their own heart language. The missions committee that I chair is also doing some thinking and praying in this direction.

Today I was on the Joshua Project website, scrolling through their list of unreached groups, people who have not had a significant chance to hear the gospel. I sorted the list alphabetically and then gave my best guess as to which page number I needed to be on (in the 72 page list) to look up a certain country where our church currently supports missionaries. My first guess was way off, so I entered another number. The page I landed on that time was the "I" page -- and was filled with people group after people group in India.

I clicked next. Still a whole page of India.

And next. And next. And next.

I thought my heart would break. Page after page of India, dozens upon dozens of people groups. The Lord's hand definitely seemed to be even in this, my quick click after click as I scrolled through these pages, each name representing sometimes a small group, sometimes thousands of real people.

And it's not just in this way I see his hand. He's been growing my heart toward India for a long time. Our family got involved in a learning/giving project with the organization Mission India a couple of years ago. We've stayed on their mailing list and several months ago I joined their Facebook page. Now almost every day,  I see another Indian face -- sometimes solemn and sad, sometimes brightly filled with joy -- looking back at me when I sign onto FB.

He keeps me looking. 

Because the Lord uses everything to get our attention and to shape our prayers, reminding us that he longs for the hearts of every single person he made.

Knitting Things Together

I've been thinking a lot about knitting this week. A friend of our's came to arts camp on Wednesday (yes, we are in camp season again!) and taught the kids how to finger knit. The sweet girl was having a very stressed day, and according to her dad, her (unrelated) stress was at its height during that session, so I half-way expected her to have not even taken it all in. As it turns out, she loved finger knitting. She has been enjoying it all week long; in fact, she knitted up a whole soft skein of yarn and turned it into a scarf and now wants to do more.

The timing here feels like such a God-thing. We are still navigating the repercussions (good but challenging) of her OCD diagnosis. Just that morning, the doctor had suggested we put together a worry bag that S can keep with her and turn to when she feels like she is getting stuck in her thoughts. We brainstormed a list of materials that could go into the bag. The doc (whom we really like) was suggesting a sort of tactile craft, beyond drawing. She asked the sweet girl if she liked to do anything like make friendship bracelets and S said no. We had been trying to think of something that would be enjoyable and easy to carry around in the bag. And it was that afternoon that she learned how to finger-knit. It's been wonderful seeing her take off with it. It's also been wonderful to see her come to new realizations that she has creative options when she gets mentally and emotionally stuck. Learning to put some of those into practice and make them habits is going to take time, but at least we're taking small steps in the right direction.

The lovely timing of the learning of the new skill, just when she most needed it, reminded me again how wonderfully God knits together the details of our lives. Even the hard places, which can sometimes seem knotted and tangled from our perspective, don't throw him off from finishing the beautiful weaving and knitting he's doing. I'm so grateful to know that every moment of every day, and all parts of our journey, are in his loving hands.

"The Rash Absurdities of the Redeemed"

Sometimes a certain line stops you in your tracks as you're reading. For me, this morning, it was this, from Luci Shaw:

"And here we are, day by day attempting the utterly impossible. We are called to perform the rash absurdities of the redeemed or to expire miserably."

That's from her book Breath for the Bones, meditations on art and faith. I pick it up occasionally and dive in, and sometimes I am rewarded with thought-provoking moments like that one.

Still pondering it. It sounds like "perform or perish" but I think it's really more of a "sink or swim." The performance part isn't tied to our ability to do, but our willingness to trust. I think she's saying that we either enter into the radical, free-fall, adventure life of the gospel -- which some days seems perilous -- or we will find ourselves in real peril, the sort of fish gasping out of water peril. There's the danger of adventure well entered into, with the proper guide and rescuer, and there's the danger of a life not entered into or lived at all. The life of the redeemed may look rash or even absurd, but when viewed next to the sadness and emptiness (and real peril) of an unredeemed life, those rash absurdities take on a holy sanity.

My Mama Told Me There Would Be Days Like These...

Or did she? I'm so tired, I can't remember....

I won't bore anyone who might still be reading this blog with details of yesterday. I will simply say that I had that little scene from Tangled running in my head...you know the one where Rapunzel is moving from totally high to totally low, and ends up swinging around and around and yelling "BEST DAY EVER!" in her sweet, chirping voice? Yes, that scene, only I was inwardly chirping "worst day ever!" in my best Disney princess fashion.

It probably wasn't the worst day ever, but if I had a leader board with frustrated, tired days ranked, it would be up there.

Praying today will be better. Thankful for the Lord's sustaining through everything.

Books Fall Open, You Fall In

I'm not sure how I missed this poem by David McCord until recently, but I'm so glad I found it. I like what it says, and I also like the rhythmic way it says it. So thankful I get to "fall in" to so many good books!

Books fall open,

you fall in,

delighted where

you’ve never been;

hear voices not once

heard before,

reach world on world

through door on door;

find unexpected

keys to things

locked up beyond

imaginings.

What might you be,

perhaps become,

because one book

is somewhere? Some

wise delver into

wisdom, wit,

and wherewithal

has written it.

True books will venture,

dare you out,

whisper secrets,

maybe shout

across the gloom

to you in need,

who hanker for

a book to read.

~David McCord

Finishing Up Fifth Grade (Notes from a Learning Life!)

We’ve had a busy final month or so of the school year, so busy that I’ve not had much time to write anything about schooling!

As she is growing and changing so much physically and emotionally, the sweet girl has been struggling with increased anxiety related issues (in general, not specific to school) which have also been taking up a good bit of our time and energy as a family. We’re in the process of getting some guidance and putting some things into place for ourselves as we pursue some mental health goals for her and for all of us, and I remind myself that is all a huge and important part of life and of learning.

School subjects have not fallen by the wayside though. We’ve had a good strong finish to the year in language arts and math and a sort of limping finish to science and history, though they both had their highlights this year too. When I look back on everything, I am pleased with S’ academic progress in many areas, especially her continued passion for math and art and her growing confidence as a writer. I am pleased with the progress she made in taking more strides as an independent learner. The areas I think she has struggled with most (and I have struggled with most as her teacher) have to do with some of the broader anxiety and perfectionist issues. What gives me hope is to remember the fruit we have seen already, and to know that more fruit will bloom as we continue to plant needs, water and nourish the soil, and trust the Gardener of our souls.

The standardized tests are done (she has to take them certain years in compliance with state requirements) and she passed with absolute flying colors. Her overall marks in Language and Mathematics were given a “highest level” rating, which makes this mama/teacher’s heart very happy. (I don’t actually mind standardized tests, which show me areas in which I can improve instruction, and the sweet girl actually finds them fun!)

Although we’ve sometimes marked the end of a school year with a special lunch or something like this, this is the first year we’re doing a little bit of a “graduation” ritual. Thinking over the fact that she is moving into the middle grades, S. asked if it might be possible if we mark the occasion of her finishing up elementary studies in some way. I tend to break our learning into four year cycles (because of the classical influence on our schooling approach) but I know what she means – this does somehow feel like a turning point year. And I don’t see any reason to not give her the kind of affirmation and encouragement she needs about what a good job she’s done! So I just finished taking brownies from the oven and creating a diploma (which will be signed by me, her teacher, and her dad, whom we like to call the principal) and we’ll celebrate after dinner. A little bird told me that someone has prepared a speech about her first six years of homeschooling…

Six years! Midway through next year, we will be exactly half-way through this home learning journey we officially set out on. There are days when I’ve wondered if we’ll ever make it, a few days when I’ve been ready to quit, and many, many more days when I’ve just felt so incredibly blessed that we’re doing this and so affirmed in our call. We really are doing this…through the hard parts and the amazing parts…building a learning life.

Holmes and Watson

It's been a Holmes and Watson kind of week as my husband I have finally seen (and loved) the first season of Sherlock, the creative modern-day update starring Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman.

I am loving the show for itself -- such great pacing, witty writing, intelligent plots, terrific acting! -- but I'm also loving it because it's nudging me back to Doyle.

 I confess that I have never been a huge Sherlock Holmes reader. Despite having enjoyed movies about the great detective, despite having read some of the stories and even a recent biography of Doyle, I've just never quite been able to immerse myself totally in the stories. That may be changing as I am currently racing my way through The Hound of the Baskervilles.

I confess, I checked it out of the library. This despite the fact that we own the complete Holmes in one volume. I realized that one reason I might not have been too successful at past immersion is that the darn book is too heavy to hold. And it has rather itty-bitty type.

So I checked Hound out in paperback form, and oh, the fun!

I'm also finding that the creative update is helping me "get" Holmes' voice better than I have before -- the energy behind it, the humor, the total genius-like self-absorption. And I can visualize Watson, the quiet sidekick, much better than before. Cumberbatch and Freeman are that good at keeping their characters in the spirit of the originals.

I have a feeling I may need to credit this series for helping me know how to read Doyle the way I now credit the 1995 A&E Pride and Prejudice with helping me to know how to read Austen.

10 Years as a Reviewer

Yesterday I reached a fun milestone: 10 years since I became a reviewer on Epinions.

I had fun reminiscing about how I "stumbled" onto the site, not knowing precisely what it was. I was looking for reviews of children's books, particularly books for very young children, since the sweet girl was not quite a year old at the time. I discovered a site where I could not only read reviews (of any number of things) but write them too.

I still recall the fun I had tossing out that first four-paragraph review of one of the sweet girl's board books. The only reviews I'd written, up until then, had been for newsletters and college classes. I had no clue what I was doing, and *really* no clue that I would get bitten by the review writing bug and still be writing for the site a decade -- and over 1200 reviews -- later.

I've learned a lot in my time there, some of it to do with crafting reviews, and a lot of it to do with listening to the passions of other people...some of them a lot like me, and a lot of them not at all like me. It's been enriching. It's been a help to our homeschool budget. It's been frustrating (especially when the site has gone through growing pains, changes, and technical glitches). It's been fun.

I also had no clue that I would meet one of the friends of my heart there, a couple of years or so into my Epinions sojourn. Yesterday, Erin wrote a review of the 1994 film version of Little Women in my honor. It's a lovely review from a lovely human being whom I'm grateful to call my friend. That friendship is one of the best blessings to come out of my decade as a reviewer.

Wonder what the next ten years will hold for my writing life? 

Writing from Minor Character POVs: Getting Your Fiction Muscles Working

I miss writing fiction.

I'm thankful beyond words that I am writing as much as I am right now. I enjoy writing reviews and even, in a strange way, boring web content. Writing is writing. I love crafting sentences. I'd rather do it than anything else I do, even the workhorse parts of writing.

But oh, I miss writing fiction. It's not just a matter of finding the time to do it, though that is a perpetual challenge. It's a matter of being able to dive in and do it in the seven minutes here, three minutes there that I can squeeze in. It's feeling frustrated when I only have a little bit of time and discover that a lack of writing fiction over the past couple of weeks has made my fiction muscles rusty. We all know that sometimes it can take a couple of pages to warm up and even get to a place where you're writing anything worth keeping, and sometimes the warm up time is all I can manage.

The other morning I woke up from a dream about the characters in my novel -- the novel I haven't had time to work on for several weeks. Dreaming about characters is a lovely gift to any writer. You wake up hearing echoes of their voices, and if you're really blessed, you've got the contours of a scene all ready and waiting to make the leap to paper.

Dream scenes fade quickly though, and in this particular case, I had "one of those days" where I simply could not grab any space or time to write. The scene slithered away from me. Argh.

When it's been a while since I've been in story mode, I sometimes find that playing around in someone else's story world is just what I need to get my fiction muscles working again. It takes less creative and mental energy than diving into something completely original, but it can definitely provide terrific writing practice.

Yes, this is what most people call fan-fiction, and it can be fun to write it just for the fun of writing it (nothing wrong with that)! But I've been discovering lately that in addition to a mental health break, writing this kind of fiction can be a great exercise in story crafting.

It's especially helpful if you approach a story from the perspective of a minor character. Give this a try the next time you only have a few minutes to write and need to get yourself in gear quickly. Pick a favorite movie or a book, one you know really well, and dive into an already established scene. But dive into it from the perspective of a minor character --- someone who doesn't have a big role to play, someone in the crowd observing the action, someone completely on the sidelines. Maybe it's a character from another part of the story who isn't there in the original action, but whom you put there, eavesdropping behind a door. Maybe it's a character in the original scene who says one thing but looks like they're dying to say something else, and you, the writer, can climb inside their head and think through their unvoiced thoughts and motivations. This kind of writing becomes an exercise in thinking through character as well as plot and tone.

Writing a scene you already know but from an entirely different perspective is a great exercise -- both in thinking through what you want to include, and what slant you want to give it, and thinking through why the original author of a scene wrote it they way she or he did. Once you get going, you may find yourself inventing new scenes for the story -- scenes only hinted at but never shown, scenes that you wish had been there, scenes that must have been there in the skeleton background but were never brought forward.

Why Do We Learn?

This list is from a brainstorming session at our house today. I thought it was worth sharing!

Why do we learn?

We learn in order to….

Try new skills

Appreciate the past

Look at the future

Gain wisdom

So we can teach others

Practice paying attention

Gain patience

Have our questions answered

Ask new questions

Have new questions answered

Ask more questions!

Try new skills

Help us later in life with jobs

Practice listening

Try hard things

Smile

So we won’t be bored

Exercise our brains

Exercise our hearts

Exercise our bodies

Enjoy new ideas

Enjoy beauty and order

Learn from failing

Learn from succeeding

Practice following directions

So we don’t keep making the same mistakes

Have something to do

Appreciate how people different from us do things

"Decorating Tips for Crazily Creative Familes..."

Another fun day in a highly creative household. My husband continues to build a dragon in our dining room (okay, he's actually only working on the tail section at home at this point).

Meanwhile....

One of the ways I bring in money as a writer is by ghost-writing web content for various clients through a freelance site. This means I write all sorts of odd and interesting little articles and blurbs (good thing I'm a research geek). They may be on all sorts of topics: travel, food, parenting, home repair, books (once in a while, if I'm lucky), etc.

Today I was working on an article about home decor. More specifically on tips for making a more peaceful environment in your home.

This just cracks me up. I'm sitting in my crowded little office corner behind my eighty-three year old couch that is positively begging for a slip cover I can't afford to give it. Yes, listening to Bach's Well-Tempered Clavier (I do get peaceful touches in where I can!) but my living space is basically a leaning tower of boxes, books, papers, and yes...dragon innards.

Wouldn't it be fun if someone wanted to pay me to write an article on "Decorating Tips for Crazily Creative Families"? File that under "writer dreams..."!

Praising Him For Pine Needles

We've been studying plant cells this week. Our own microscope revealed wonders to us at the kitchen table. The membrane of an onion really is a marvel of beauty when you look at its inner structure.

Then we turned to some micrographs online. And this one blew me away.

It's the cross section of a pine needle.

Let me say that again, just so you can marvel over it with me one more time: it's the cross section of a pine needle.

Is it any wonder that the world is so beautiful? This is the secret, inner life of a pine needle, the kind of needle lying by thousands on the forest floor, here today and gone tomorrow. This is the beauty of the inner structure that no one sees, unless they really go looking, with intention and attention. 

And who puts that desire in us to look? And who puts the desire in us to create beautiful designs? And where does our drive and ability to create such intricate, lovely designs (think Celtic knotwork, Tiffany stained glass, Van Gogh poplars) come from? From the one who makes pine needles look like this. Praise Him!

Bilbo's Song (An Original Poem)

I have a dragon in my living room. Okay, just the skeleton of one. My husband continues to build Smaug for the middle-school production of The Hobbit he's directing this spring. And I continue to be on a total Tolkien tear, reading more literary criticism than I have in quite a while.

More on some of the things I'm reading soon. For now, a poem I penned a couple of days ago. It sure is lovely to be hanging out with Bilbo again.

Bilbo’s Song

As anyone who knows me likely knows,

at home my life is filled with lovely prose.

Green hills, good food, a round and solid door,

my pipe and blooming garden, heathered moor.

All’s quiet here until the kettle sings.

You’ll find me on the doorstep blowing rings.

But you can read me like an open book.

Away? My life’s a poem, a rushing brook.

The cozy, prosy things so sure and sweet

are like a dream. They keep me on my feet

when journey’s long and all becomes a quest.

And sometimes I’m not sure which I love best.

The homey prose, it fills my traveler’s pack,

but it’s poetry that sings me there and back.

I couldn’t live without the deep, familiar places.

But oh! Indeed I love the wilder spaces.

~EMP 4/15/13