I Really Didn’t Know There’d Be The Day…

Today Kaylee had a friend over and while they were practicing a dance number in the living room, I was vacuuming my bedroom.  As I mindlessly pushed the vacuum over minimal dirt, I had a random thought.  I thought I should send a message to Brianna, Erica, or Taylor to let them know what I was doing.

Brianna, Erica, and Taylor are my other daughters’ friends.  They are grown women with homes of their own now, but I was reflecting on how different their visits to our home were than that of today’s guest. When these three came to visit they found a home full of kids and chaos.  Piles of laundry everywhere, open bags of chips on the couch, crying babies, loud music, whining, leftover scraps of paper from school projects, and dust enough to write in. That was the status of the home they visited. Full of love, but full of mess.

Today’s home is also full of love, but not full of mess.  This isn’t to say that I took a class on housework and now have mastered the skill, this is just to say that the chaos has grown and moved on and so have we. All but one of the kids is gone and with it, they took their busy schedules, their dirty laundry, and their favorite snacks.  They took with them the hustle and bustle and supplies that are necessary to entertain 5 + kids (we often had foster children) and the mess. This new guest has been to our home a few times and never once before her arrival did I need to grab a laundry basket to pick up a random soccer ball, dance costume, or dirty dishes.  I haven’t run through the house shutting doors or warning my daughter which room not to enter. I’ve not even had a need to rush out to the driveway to say “hello” to her parents in the hopes that they wouldn’t make it to the door.  Things are just different now. Quieter. Cleaner. Easier to maintain. I thought of this guest’s mother. She is a full time working mom with 3 kids ages 12 and under.  I bet she has unfinished puzzles on her table, books strewn across the floor somewhere, and a missing tennis shoe.  I’m not judging her, I’m remembering her. We are simply in different phases and I hope she isn’t judging me either. I hope she knows that I once was her and she will be me someday too.  Neither phase is good or bad, just different.

So, if your home is tidy or if your home is messy, live in it and enjoy it. Appreciate what you have and even what you might not have anymore.  It’s all good. And if you still have lots of kids at home, know that some Saturday not only will you have time to vacuum your bedroom (instead of slamming the door shut) but you will also have time to write about it!

Lord, Why Don’t I Trust You?

Oh Lord, why don’t I trust you? I should. I really should. I’ve read your Word long enough to know that your promises are in there and I have seen them play out in real life and yet I still don’t always trust you quick enough.

I just watched a video of my son riding his bike across the country while staying with people he met on the internet. He returned safely. That should prove it.

My other son took a gun, loaded it, headed to the woods and shot his thumb. The healing of that thumb without surgical intervention is amazing not to mention the many blessings in the miracles and the people that surrounded us during that time. You certainly proved you were trustworthy then.

My daughter traveled to foreign countries and stayed at random Air BnB’s as a college student. A daughter’s dream, a mother’s nightmare. You remained faithful.

My other daughter got very sick while living states away, went through a spinal tap, medical tests of all sorts and eventually was simply healed. You are so good.

Custody battles with my youngest daughter resulted in visits with abusive parents unsupervised for 4 years before parental rights were terminated and we could ensure her safety and you were with her and us each step of the way to work out your plan of permanence. I doubted, but you stayed true.

There have been broken hearts, car accidents, shootings, diagnosis, mental health emergencies, complicated pregnancies, a flood, sicknesses, risky travel, legal problems & loss and you have masterfully helped us through it all.  You continue to amaze me with your presence yet I still question at times and it is still hard for me to trust. And sometimes I can’t trust you with the littlest of things.

Albert Einstein said the definition of insanity is trying the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. It appears that I’m not only distrustful, but I’m also insane. Because God, you have proven time and time again that you are able and willing to help me in all that I do and yet I question. Am I expecting you not to? Am I expecting a different result?

In addition to being distrustful and insane, I am also wrong.

God, you are trustworthy. You have proved it beyond a shadow of a doubt. I hope I can remember that the next time! Forgive me for my unbelief.

Readers, I challenge you to make a list of all the things you didn’t think would work out the way they did.  I think you will see that you can trust him too!

Some trust in chariots and some in horses,
    but we trust in the name of the Lord our God.  –Psalm 20:7

Trust in the Lord forever,
    for the Lord, the Lord himself, is the Rock eternal. –Isaiah 26:4

When I am afraid, I put my trust in you. –Psalm 56:3

 

 

 

A Book Review -Teaching Art in the Primary Grades

About the Book

Book: Teaching Art

Author: Jerry E. Twitchell

Genre: Nonfiction  EDUCATION/Teaching Methods & Materials/Arts & Humanities

Release Date: February 20, 2019

As Simple as 1-2-3

Everything needed to structure and teach an effective art program for grades one to three is made simple for the home-school parent or teacher.

This step-by-step process for teaching art is perfect for home-school teachers or parents with limited art skills or time to create their own programs. This system of insight, responses to judgments, ideas, and feelings aligns with public school and state visual arts requirements.

Teaching Art in the Primary Grades is designed to foster lifelong interest in the arts, provide a gauge of what can be expected of children at various ages and grade levels, and present a baseline for measuring growth and skill.

Lesson plans with goals, objects, time frames, techniques, steps, illustrated examples, and assessment of growth are included.

Click here to get your copy.

 

“Time for Art!”

Jerry E. Twitchell’s book Teaching Art in the Primary Grades does all the work for you so that you can simply say “Time for Art!” and dive right in. This 319-page book appealed to me from the moment I saw the cover and the simple structure.  The introduction prepares you to confidently teach art skills to your students. The grades are divided by units and lessons complete with goals, expectations, and ways to assess progress.

As a former homeschooling mom, I could envision my daughters completing each session.  While instructing on cutting, modeling, drawing, painting, and weaving,etc., Twitchell looks at so much more than simply the procedure. He adds important reminders regarding the child’s development, self-worth, and pride.  He reminds the teacher/parent to be aware of the differences in artistic abilities and achievements and also gives instances where the art project can be integrated into other academic subjects. He gives many examples of open-ended questions to ask the child so that you can encourage their creativity while furthering communication and understanding.

Though presented in an appealing simplistic way, it is not lacking in educational merit. It is full of concepts and terminology that were new to me. (I must admit that I didn’t know a weft from a warp, do you?) The author’s love of children and love of art is evident on each page and I believe that using this book as a curriculum will foster a love of art in all. I look forward to sharing this book with our school district’s art teacher!

About the Author

Jerry E. Twitchell, DEd, is a retired educational administrator and art and history instructor. With over thirty years of experience as a teacher and principal, Jerry has nurtured primary through secondary students to experience the excitement of art. In his work with parents, teachers, and especially children, he has sought to bring to life a love and passion for art.

More from Jerry

Ever since I was young, I have always loved art.  It was only natural for me to be teaching and sharing the love of art to young people. Over the years, a number of parents, students and fellow teachers and administrators suggested that I should write a book about teaching art, particularly to the emerging beginning artist.  This would hopefully help them gain confidence in themselves in return would flow into their reading and writing subjects. After retiring, pondering and headaches, I started putting it together and throwing around ideas to myself on what should be included and “Wala”…..here it is.

Blog Stops

Library Lady’s Kid Lit, September 11

Truth and Grace Homeschool Academy, September 12

Mary Hake, September 12

A Baker’s Perspective, September 13 (Author Interview)

Debbie’s Dusty Deliberations, September 14

Kathy Anderson, September 14

Vicky Sluiter, September 15

Lis Loves Reading, September 16

Creating Romance, September 17

janicesbookreviews, September 18

Texas Book-aholic, September 19

Quiet Workings, September 19

A Reader’s Brain, September 20

Older & Smarter?, September 21

Inklings and notions , September 22

Little Homeschool on the Prairie, September 23

The Artist Librarian, September 23

For Him and My Family, September 24

Beck To Basics, September 24

Giveaway

To celebrate his tour, Jerry is giving away Gift basket with Basic art Supplies, Stack Card and a Athabascan People of The North coloring book!!

Be sure to comment on the blog stops for nine extra entries into the giveaway! Click the link below to enter.

https://promosimple.com/ps/ec3a/teaching-art-celebration-tour-giveaway

NOTE: I received a complimentary copy of this book through Celebrate Lit. My comments are an independent and honest review. The rest of the copy of this post was provided by Celebrate Lit.

Shut the Window

A few weeks ago, I had a very trying few days.  It seemed that everyone I knew was going through something that caused me concern.  I would talk to one person and hear about their struggles and wonder how I could help.  I talked to another and hear their worries and wondered how I could help.  I, myself, had a bunch of things going on and my mind was racing with how I was going to deal with each situation that needed to be addressed.  I spent my evening considering all the possibilities and had no clear answers on anything.

I dreaded bedtime, knowing that when it’s time for my body to shut down, it often signals my mind to wake up and worry.  Very frustrated, I went to bed, and couldn’t fall asleep.  The windows were open at our river house this warm evening and the songs of the crickets and frogs were not bringing me peace. As a matter of fact, the more I listened the louder they sounded and the more alert I became.  “What am I going to do about this noise?!  What am I going to do about these things I am worried about?!”  All of a sudden, an answer came to me….Shut the window.  Seriously?  Shut the window?  It’s that simple?  I got up and shut the window and the sound of silence filled my bedroom. The noise stopped.  I realized then that I could do the same thing with worries and concerns.  I could shut the window to the outside noises and problems that were confronting me.  Every time a worrying thought came to mind, I chose to shut it out.  I found that by “shutting the window” to those nagging concerns and thoughts, I could fall asleep.

I shared this story with my friend and the following week I got a T-Shirt in the mail and it had “Shut the Window” printed on the front.  Friends, it is that simple.  We can choose to shut the window to a lot of situations in our lives and we can give those concerns to God. “Do not let your hearts be troubled, You believe in God.”  It’s that simple…..Shut the window.

John 14:1-4     Jesus Comforts His Disciples (The title could read “Jesus Comforts Insert your name.)

14 “Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God^[a]; believe also in me. ² My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? ³ And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. ⁴ You know the way to the place where I am going.”

Tuesday News Day!

Sarah is working on a new procedure at work, Nicole bought a TV, Lori had her friends build a human pyramid, Kevin made a new friend, Paul saw a movie, Linda was sick with the flu, Kaylee had a school snow day, Cale bought a couch and George has been busy cleaning up after the house flooded. These are all examples of the latest news in our family.

Starting in January 2019, I wanted to come up with a way to stay in communication with all of my kids who live in varying parts of the country and to try to keep them in contact with each other.  Hence, the creation of Tuesday’s News Day!  The group text is sent to Seattle, Denver, Richmond, New Castle and to some within the same house.  I begin with a short recap text of what I’ve been up to in the last week and invite the rest to chime in.  It’s been such a fun, easy way to learn more about each other and what our typical or less than typical week looks like.

Scrolling past over the last 8 weeks I see where I finished reading Little Women, George is grateful for the book Cale bought him for Christmas, Nicole spent time in Florida, Kevin has been trying new recipes, Sarah binged on a podcast, Cale is trying to walk more, Lori took a Lyra class, Kaylee was cast in a musical & Paul went with his Dad to see the movie Escape Room.

Though I wish we all lived closer, I take comfort in knowing that on Tuesday, my phone will chime multiple times as people report in.  Gone are the days of waiting for handwritten letters in the mail, even live voice phone calls are sometimes hard to fit in, but the well-timed Tuesday text brings joy to all!

“How beautiful are the feet of those who preach the gospel of peace,
Who bring glad tidings of good things!”  –Romans 10:15 NKJ

I’m so grateful to those who bring glad tidings!!

Last Day!

Tomorrow is my daughter’s last day of elementary school.  Today was mine.  I volunteered at the end of the school year Luau and helped some kids make bookmarks out of paper clips and yarn. I treated myself to a SnoCone in the parking lot and I left at noon. I was talking with some moms early in the day about this being my last event there and wondered when it would hit me that I really wouldn’t be going back to the school. It hit me when I was leaving the building.  I had my hand on the door to leave and I saw the principal unloading boxes in the hall.  I thought about saying “good-bye” but thought I might tear up.  I didn’t want to cry.  What in the world would I cry about? I’m leaving this school building after volunteering there for 24 years! Yes, I have had kids in this building for 24 years. I wonder if it would’ve been so hard if I had only had one or two kids and had only been a part of that place for 7-10 years like most families.  Is this such a big deal because I have walked these halls for so long?

Or is it really a big deal at all?  Not really. It’s been kind of fun having seniority there.  I’ve had many opportunities to watch the 5th-grade band students perform their Christmas concert after only 3 months on their new instruments. It’s been fun attending Open House, Science Fairs, Literacy Nights and elementary basketball games. And, even though we joke about having to hear Hot Cross Buns played on the Recorder annually, today it feels like it will be something I miss. I left the building today and there is a good chance I won’t be going back. At this point, I don’t have hopes for grandchildren attending this school and I honestly don’t know if I’m a good enough aunt to really attend those concerts on their behalf. I have officially signed out of that building for the last time.

Maybe this post is a little premature.  My daughter still has one more day at that school.  There’s still a chance that I will have to go and pick up a forgotten clarinet or her extra tennis shoes. I may even find a library book under the couch that will need to be returned. There is just no way to know for sure.

 

When my daughter comes home from school tomorrow, I feel certain that she will have the confidence she needs to move on to the high school in the fall.  The question is, will I? Lord willing, we both will!

I’ll leave you with an oldie but a goodie:

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.     Jeremiah 29:11 NIV

Dear Friend,

I’ve been writing and re-writing this Thank You note in my mind for days and the truth is, I can’t quite figure out how to write it yet. You see, there is no way I can explain what your kind deeds have meant to me without first telling you all the negative things that have been going on in my life and I think you know me well enough to know that I’m not a negative person. So, in the interest of trying to explain and in the hopes of being vague enough to not cause more grief, I thought I’d let you know how important your kind acts have been!
This spring there has been a war raging in our home. Nothing big enough to make the papers, but it has been a constant deluge of bad situations. Every day, I was confronted with something, figured out a way to handle it, and the next day it was a new surprising event. God is good and continued to show me grace and favor in the midst of the chaos. (Note: I said “in the midst” He did not shield me from the chaos but was beside me!) My son had some major trauma that was not in his control. No one should have to deal with what that boy had to deal with and all of it during his senior year. You know, that year that is supposed to be full of rainbows and dreams? His was full of doubt, trauma and an ugliness that I can’t even begin to imagine. Not knowing how to cope, he acted out with bad behaviors of his own which caused him even more pain. And, as his pain increased, his parents’ pain increased. And though his trauma took center stage there was a lot of other things going on in our lives too that we had to contend with.
That’s where you come in. You will never know what your kind words meant to me. The note, the card, the meal, the call, the hug, the plant, the text, the shoulder to cry on, the idea,  and the desire to lessen our pain in any way did not go unnoticed. Now, if you friend, were unaware of the struggles we were facing, you helped simply by being you. You made me smile, you encouraged me by assuming that everything was “normal.” You went for a walk with me, sewed a costume, mentioned mimosas, rolled your eyes, gave me a pedicure, shared an empathetic nod, and changed back into clothes to go out with me after you had already put on your PJ’s. You showed up for no reason and just were there for me. You asked me to do something and thought I was capable when I didn’t feel like I was capable of anything. If I eluded to some struggles you lifted me up in prayer. (I know you did, because I could feel it!)
I desperately want to share more with you. I want you to know how bad the details are so that I can then tell you how good my God is, but I don’t think that would serve Him well. I want to tell my side of the story to counter what may be being shared around town, but I won’t. I’ll simply thank you from the bottom of my heart for being my lifeline and helping me celebrate spring and all of it’s successes. I refer to this time as the season of Blessings and Burdens and I’ve had my share of both! You have been a blessing.  Thanks again!

³ Elijah was afraid^[a] and ran for his life. When he came to Beersheba in Judah, he left his servant there, ⁴ while he himself went a day’s journey into the wilderness. He came to a broom bush, sat down under it and prayed that he might die. “I have had enough, Lord,” he said. “Take my life; I am no better than my ancestors.” ⁵ Then he lay down under the bush and fell asleep.

All at once an angel touched him and said, “Get up and eat.” ⁶ He looked around, and there by his head was some bread baked over hot coals, and a jar of water. He ate and drank and then lay down again.      

⁷ The angel of the Lord came back a second time and touched him and said, “Get up and eat, for the journey is too much for you.” ⁸ So he got up and ate and drank. Strengthened by that food, he traveled forty days and forty nights until he reached Horeb, the mountain of God.                                                                         –1 Kings 19:3-7

My Big Claim to Fame

I never really considered myself special. I mean, I never had one specific great claim to fame…until I became a parent.

The first six months of my first pregnancy, I gained six pounds. The doctor informed me that she would like to see a little more weight gain for the next visit and that I really should be following the nutritional guide she had provided. My husband and I attended the childbirth education classes the next week, and he scolded me that perhaps I wasn’t eating enough cheese. I felt fine but decided that I better check the scales to see how things were progressing. I stepped on, I stepped off, on again, off again, one more time…yep, there is a weight gain. Eighteen pounds in 3 weeks! What in the world is going on?

I called the doctor, and she felt there had to be an error. I went into the office for an official weighing the next morning and when I tipped the scales, I burst into tears. The nurse, in a comforting way, suggested we try another scale. We did, and sure enough there was an errror…it wasn’t eighteen pounds; it was twenty-one. She took my blood pressure, tried to calm me down, and told me to go home and rest while she consulted the doctor. The nurse called later that afternoon and said that the doctor had scheduled a sonogram for Monday and that I should rest over the weekend. I asked hesitantly, “Does she think it could be twins?” The nurse kept her answer brief and replied, “At least.”

I had the sonogram, and it looked like I was going to have one big baby. I kept gaining weight at a normal rate and approached my due date. No baby. Every night I went to bed and woke up disappointed that I was still there.  Finally, with tears in my eyes, I asked the doctor to help me out. The baby was getting bigger and bigger and didn’t show any interest in coming into the world. She agreed to break my water the following morning.

Always feeling that attitude was the biggest help in labor, I tried to keep a positive outlook the whole time. I think I can, I think I can, became my motto. Finally, after pushing for two-and-a-half hours, I quietly said to my doctor, “I don’t think I can do this.” She said, “I don’t think you can either,” and the baby was born by Cesarean Section. I was awake for the procedure and heard the cries from the operating room. “Oh, my gosh, his head is so big…He’s huge…Have you ever seen such a big baby?” I was getting nervous, not to mention somewhat insulted, and I asked my doctor how much he weighed. She chuckled and said, “I don’t know. I can’t lift him.” As soon as the delivery was complete, they shouted for the scales to be brought in. My bouncing baby boy weighed eleven pounds, three ounces! I was shocked and said, “No one has eleven-pound babies.” and the doctor said, “You just did.”

The rest of my hospital stay, from my room across from the nursery, I could hear people ooh and aah over the babies. “Look how sweet, look at the hair, OH MY! Look at this big bruiser!” Even the nurse giving expectant parents a tour of the facility stopped at my doorway and said, “There’s the woman who had the eleven-pound baby!” Comfort and acceptance came for me when my minister visited. In his prayer, he asked that my son be not only big in body, but big in mind and spirit as well.

I still, on occasion, will meet someone, and they will ask if I am the one with the big babies. (I delivered my daughter two years later who weighed ten pounds, 5 ounces and my youngest was three weeks early and weighed eight pounds, nine ounces.) I have come a long way in my confidence since those “new parent days” and I am proud of my big babies. I am sure they will be big in mind and spirit as well.

 

Originally published in The Doula Magazine Fall 1996

The Good Friday Story

Maybe not THE Good Friday story, but definitely in our family, the following story is referred to often.  Paul will say, “Does she know the Good Friday story?” or “You should tell him the Good Friday story.”  It is definitely a story that has survived the years and the telling.

It was a good Friday, the Friday before Easter and my kids had the day off of school. They were 13,11, 9 and Paul was 4.  We didn’t have plans for the day except for my nephew coming to install a new kitchen floor for us so the kids were all in their separate rooms, probably playing a video game of their choosing.  My friend who is a pastor’s wife called and said that our family should join her church family for their cross walk.  Annually this group of worshipers carry a wooden cross through the streets of town to represent Jesus carrying the cross to His crucifixion. Of course, I thought it was a good idea, but my older kids were reluctant to be drug away from their activities.  I nagged at them to remind them of the true reason for the season and that they should thank Jesus that they were out of school for the day.  They were donning their hats, gloves, and coats as I nagged and preached.  It’s what moms do to instill righteous guilt during the Easter season. We arrived at the church complete with somber scowls and bad attitudes. Between taking their turn carrying the cross, they would come to me and whine, “I have snow in my hood.” “My socks are wet.” “My glove has a hole in it and my fingers are cold.”  Each complaint was met with my canned answer. “Jesus suffered a lot more than this, so keep going.” Each time, they came to me with their complaint and I responded with the same answer.  Last but not least, Paul came up to me and quietly said, “Before I say anything, I want you to know something…Jesus was NOT wearing these shoes!!!”  I gasped!  You see, Paul had a physical disability and had received new orthotics the day before. He received these braces that fit inside his shoes with the instructions that he was to wear them for an hour, then take them off for two hours, then try to wear them for another hour and then take a break for two hours until his feet adjusted to wearing them.  I had totally forgotten that he had them on as I whisked him out the door.  The poor kid’s feet were swollen on the bottom and I didn’t carry the cross to the church, but I carried him to the church.  I’m not sure if scripture says what kind of shoes Jesus was wearing that day, I don’t believe any and at that moment, Paul wishes he would’ve been the same.

I Am An Adult!

Posted on the door of my studio was a sign that I scrawled out on a piece of paper.  It says, “Screaming, “I am an adult” means that you are NOT!!”

I took it down because I felt it contained a negative message and the fact that I saw it every time I entered the room did not put me in the positive mood I try to maintain.  SO, the note came down, but the message still rings true in our house.

Our son turned 18 in October.  It has been a journey since then.  He has battled with us and probably with himself over if he truly is an adult or not. We should’ve expected this process to involve more than the date on the calendar. Though we celebrated his birthday with family and friends the Sunday prior, he celebrated his actual birthday while my husband and I attended a church meeting.  A typical Thursday night, we return home from the meeting and our house smells like cigar smoke.  WHAT?!  We don’t allow cigar smoking in our house.  But, his reply was, “I’m allowed.  I’m 18!” We’ve been trying to teach him the difference between being legal and being allowed ever since.  He’s taken up smoking, enjoys R-rated movies even more and buys an occasional lottery ticket. He does all of these things for the thrill of showing off his state ID (He doesn’t have a drivers’ license.) He loves to show others that he truly is an adult.  That’s what the laminated card proves!

I wish it were that easy.  I wish we knew what stage in life we were in simply based on our chronological age.  It would sure take the guess work out of things.  We would enter school at age 6, no wondering if we should send kids on the younger side of the cut-off date.  School would be entered at 6. Three would be the age that kids were allowed to view television, potty training would be successful at 2, iPods could be gifted at 12, iPhones at 14, ears pierced at 10, learners’ permit at 15.5, license at 16.5, dating at 16, etc.  I think it would be wonderful if maturity simply matched actual age.  It would save me from quoting things like, “You are acting like a two-year-old,” and “That looks like it was done by a toddler.” Not to mention, “I don’t care if she has a cell phone or not, you aren’t old enough to have one.” There is definitely a lot of gray area in all of this.

So, my son is an adult.  The government says he is.  (He is, however, an adult who is still not able to consume alcohol.) I think instead of a State ID to deem this, though, we should have a Maturity ID.  I read a great definition of maturity.  Maturity is: The ability to stick with a job until it’s finished; The ability to do a job without being supervised; The ability to carry money without spending it; and The ability to bear an injustice without wanting to get even. When he can achieve that I’ll get him the laminated statement of his adulthood.  Heck, I’ll even engrave it on a medal for him to wear around town.  I am so looking forward to him becoming an adult and a mature adult at that!

But solid food is for the mature, for those who have their powers of discernment trained by constant practice to distinguish good from evil.  –Hebrews 5:14