"Hey, Mom, did you know that a collage is French?"
"When I am very old, you'll be dead." (smiles and covers her mouth with her hand)
Monday, August 31, 2009
Last week, I took the kids to the downtown library for story time. If you arrive at the library before it opens, there is usually a crowd of people that are homeless, waiting to get inside. The library is a great place for them to read, use the public computers, or go to the bathroom and freshen up a bit for the day.
There was an older man (obviously homeless) ahead of us as we were heading out the back doors to the parking garage. He was about to pass through the detectors, when a couple of kids bolted through on their way in. Their grandmother, glanced over at the man as she followed the kids, then as soon as she was past him, pulled her shoulders up and shivered, in that 'oooo, gross!' manner.
It made me sad. More often than not, it is the homeless person that holds the elevator or is ready with a smile for me and my kids... But then I wondered how often I shudder on the inside when I encounter someone I don't understand and judge them... More than I'd like to admit.
I'm beginning to see more clearly how our attitudes, actions, and speech devalue human life.
There was an older man (obviously homeless) ahead of us as we were heading out the back doors to the parking garage. He was about to pass through the detectors, when a couple of kids bolted through on their way in. Their grandmother, glanced over at the man as she followed the kids, then as soon as she was past him, pulled her shoulders up and shivered, in that 'oooo, gross!' manner.
It made me sad. More often than not, it is the homeless person that holds the elevator or is ready with a smile for me and my kids... But then I wondered how often I shudder on the inside when I encounter someone I don't understand and judge them... More than I'd like to admit.
I'm beginning to see more clearly how our attitudes, actions, and speech devalue human life.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Gardening
Every once in a while, something comes along that reminds you of your destiny, the person you were made to be, the things you are meant to do with your life.
Driving home from the library, I turned on the radio. WPLN's AM station came on with its constant buzz, and filtering out the noise of the kids in the back seat, I could hear a discussion on gardening. Tom Ashbrook and guest speaker Robert Harrison were talking about gardens. I caught the tail end of a poem (I think) about a gardener that insisted on showing his visitor his flowers, then got caught up in pulling weeds and transplanting a crowded aster before the visitor finally decided to leave. The program went on to discuss gardens being 'pockets of Eden' and how they bring healing and peace. I couldn't stop the emotion welling up inside.
I remember Rilke writing to a young author that a true poet can't help but write; trying not to would be the death of him. I am compelled to garden.
On my trip a few weeks ago to the Seed Savers Exchange, they had a garden in front of the main barn: raised beds in a geometric pattern, bamboo supports of beans and peas intermingled with flowers. Visiting different places gives me vision for my future gardens, just as enjoying another's work of art or literature gives me vision for the things I will create and write in the future.
When thinking about moving, I have been obsessing about how to take my shrubs and flowers with me. I have been scheming about the best ways to get starts of them all before we have to put the house on the market. Packets of vegetable and flower seed I have saved are tucked in random places throughout the house. I dream about the gardens I will have at the new place.
A seventy-year-old woman called in to the radio program. She had planted eleven gardens in her lifetime, leaving a trail of flowers behind as she moved on through life. She talked about how gardening brought her closer to the Creator, her secret garden turned sacred.
Driving home from the library, I turned on the radio. WPLN's AM station came on with its constant buzz, and filtering out the noise of the kids in the back seat, I could hear a discussion on gardening. Tom Ashbrook and guest speaker Robert Harrison were talking about gardens. I caught the tail end of a poem (I think) about a gardener that insisted on showing his visitor his flowers, then got caught up in pulling weeds and transplanting a crowded aster before the visitor finally decided to leave. The program went on to discuss gardens being 'pockets of Eden' and how they bring healing and peace. I couldn't stop the emotion welling up inside.
I remember Rilke writing to a young author that a true poet can't help but write; trying not to would be the death of him. I am compelled to garden.
On my trip a few weeks ago to the Seed Savers Exchange, they had a garden in front of the main barn: raised beds in a geometric pattern, bamboo supports of beans and peas intermingled with flowers. Visiting different places gives me vision for my future gardens, just as enjoying another's work of art or literature gives me vision for the things I will create and write in the future.
When thinking about moving, I have been obsessing about how to take my shrubs and flowers with me. I have been scheming about the best ways to get starts of them all before we have to put the house on the market. Packets of vegetable and flower seed I have saved are tucked in random places throughout the house. I dream about the gardens I will have at the new place.
A seventy-year-old woman called in to the radio program. She had planted eleven gardens in her lifetime, leaving a trail of flowers behind as she moved on through life. She talked about how gardening brought her closer to the Creator, her secret garden turned sacred.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Weekend Update and Other Ramblings 8/24
Things I am thankful for today: toilet paper, indoor plumbing, steaming showers, and a baby that naps in the morning.
We have all come down with a cold. Z is constantly smearing snot all over her face. Finley was up last night coughing until I drugged her. Joe is on the tail end of his cold. Thankfully, the wheezing and labored breathing was restricted to Thursday. I am waiting for the pressure in my sinuses to subside.
I finally found the birth pictures of zivah that Chris took in the hospital. It is amazing how such an ugly little thing can turn out to be cute.
I took a look through the pictures of my aunt and uncle's vacation this morning. I couldn't help but wonder why I am not living in the spacious beauty of Montana. (I know. The answer is obvious.)
We (mostly Chris) finished painting the kids room this weekend, so we moved them back in yesterday. Last night, we put all three kids to bed in the room at the same time... and it worked! I was expecting lots of screaming, laughing, and toy-throwing with the addition of Zivah in the room, but Z went right to sleep, and the older two eventually followed suit. Now I am hoping to get the other room set up as an office/school/play room.
Reanna has been in school for three weeks, and has been enjoying it so far. Last year, we hardly touched language and only made it through half of the math book. She had to take a placement test at the school, and they said she was well above where she needed to be for eighth grade. She is taking algebra. Either Reanna learned a whole lot more than I thought under what I considered a less-than-ideal homeschooling experience or the public school system really isn't that great (or both)! Regardless, I'm very proud of her!
Today, I was trying to get the kids to weed out some toys. Joe wanted to get rid of a little, cartoony semi-truck. Finley said, 'But Joe, it's purple!'
Every once in a while, it's nice to discover something that Chris and I are actually excited about together. Usually, we have similar goals, but for different reasons, or different ideas about how and to go about it. Moving out of the city is a good example. His focus is 'getting out of the city'. Mine focus is more on having the space I want to garden and have animals. Although we have similar ideas of what our dream house would be like, he wants to build a new house, while I would rather renovate. There is one thing we both agree upon. Someday, we must have Buff Laced Polish chickens:
We have all come down with a cold. Z is constantly smearing snot all over her face. Finley was up last night coughing until I drugged her. Joe is on the tail end of his cold. Thankfully, the wheezing and labored breathing was restricted to Thursday. I am waiting for the pressure in my sinuses to subside.
I finally found the birth pictures of zivah that Chris took in the hospital. It is amazing how such an ugly little thing can turn out to be cute.
I took a look through the pictures of my aunt and uncle's vacation this morning. I couldn't help but wonder why I am not living in the spacious beauty of Montana. (I know. The answer is obvious.)
We (mostly Chris) finished painting the kids room this weekend, so we moved them back in yesterday. Last night, we put all three kids to bed in the room at the same time... and it worked! I was expecting lots of screaming, laughing, and toy-throwing with the addition of Zivah in the room, but Z went right to sleep, and the older two eventually followed suit. Now I am hoping to get the other room set up as an office/school/play room.
Reanna has been in school for three weeks, and has been enjoying it so far. Last year, we hardly touched language and only made it through half of the math book. She had to take a placement test at the school, and they said she was well above where she needed to be for eighth grade. She is taking algebra. Either Reanna learned a whole lot more than I thought under what I considered a less-than-ideal homeschooling experience or the public school system really isn't that great (or both)! Regardless, I'm very proud of her!
Today, I was trying to get the kids to weed out some toys. Joe wanted to get rid of a little, cartoony semi-truck. Finley said, 'But Joe, it's purple!'
Every once in a while, it's nice to discover something that Chris and I are actually excited about together. Usually, we have similar goals, but for different reasons, or different ideas about how and to go about it. Moving out of the city is a good example. His focus is 'getting out of the city'. Mine focus is more on having the space I want to garden and have animals. Although we have similar ideas of what our dream house would be like, he wants to build a new house, while I would rather renovate. There is one thing we both agree upon. Someday, we must have Buff Laced Polish chickens:
Friday, August 21, 2009
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