Marmee's Corner

Silence in the Listening

2011-04-02T07:26:00.024-06:00

"Listen is an anagram for silent. What is noisy in your life?" (J, BSF teaching leader)

As I considered J's question, common sources came to mind: TV, radio, iPods -- my own inner voice. . .

I need more expendable cash (!) for Pat's upcoming wedding, a new pair of shoes, a piano tune up, some minor home repairs. . . Maybe I need to get a job. I prayed about God's revelation in this matter, but so far I have not heard from Him (I wonder why!) I signed up to sub; that's a good-paying job, but I can sub only two days a week, and I just never seem to be organized enough to work it into my schedule. I had good intentions when I signed up! I've applied for some online jobs, but nothing came of those. Maybe God's silence and lack of action means He doesn't want me to have a job right now. Maybe my work at BSF is job enough. But if that's the case, then where am I going to get the money for the wedding?" And I'm off to the races! UGH!

Studying Isaiah 53 this week, I was reminded and, once again, amazed at Jesus' silence before his accusers. "He was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before its shearers is silent, he did not open his mouth." (Verse 7) Some 700years later, Christ stood before His accusers and uttered not a word.

Charles Spurgeon writes: "Nothing can be said to to excuse human guilt; and therefore, He who bore its whole weight stood speechless before His judge. Evidently our Lord, furnished a remarkable fulfillment of prophecy. A long defense of Himself would have been contrary to Isaiah's prediction." (heartlight.org)

Jesus is the ultimate model of silence. Long before He faced His accusers and the Cross, He spent hours alone with the Father, seeking to hear His voice. I doubt Jesus filled the solitary space and time with a litany of comments or a running dialogue of obsessive worries! I doubt He chattered on so long that He couldn't hear the Father speak! No, He was silent.

And this morning, He calls me to
Be still and know that He is God.
Bow before the Prince of Peace.
Let the noise and clamor cease.
Be still.
(Stephen Curtis Chapman)

The One and Only Writing Project

2011-03-31T11:16:00.006-06:00

The National Writing Project's federal funding has fallen victim to the federal earmark cuts. By April 1, the NWP is hoping for 1000 posts from teachers who have participated in and know the value of their work to convince Congress to restore the funds in its upcoming budget. If you have been involved in the NWP, please take a little time to write something. The Dept. of Education is following this movement.

In twenty-nine years as a high school English teacher, I have been involved with many professional development activities, but the only thing I remember gaining from many of them is a faculty t-shirt meant to jump start team spirit. The one exception has been the work of the National Writing Project, which offers authentic professional development opportunities to educators.

Too often PD is a one size-fits-all presentation by an independent business that talks at teachers, offering simplified solutions to complicated concerns. Not so, with the NWP, which takes a different tactic by using “the knowledge, leadership, and best practices of effective teachers . . . sharing that knowledge with other teachers" (History of NWP - National Writing Project). This teachers-teaching-teachers philosophy is the strength of the Project because professional growth does not occur in contrived circumstances, but in locally formed, self-directed exchanges with like-minded colleagues.

Two other strengths (among many) are the sustainable programs of NWP sites across the country and the diversity of their teacher consultants. Urban, suburban, and rural teachers from different grade levels or different disciplines find common ground as they explore theory, customize strategies to fit their students’ needs, and most importantly, write – to explore, to learn, to grow as both writers and teachers. The WP work is always undergirded by solid educational fundamentals as it also stays abreast of trends and cultural changes. Workshops and other programs include follow-up meetings and networking, so participants stay connected, share outcomes, and offer continual support. These same teachers are often the catalyst for staff development within their schools and/or departments.

The road paved with professional development opportunities leads to the heart of the NWP: the students. Invigorated teachers spark invigorated learning, and I have personally found the truth of this through my association with the Greater Kansas City Writing Project. What I've gained there changed me as both a person and teacher, and in turn, I am confident that I have presented students with opportunities to grow as writers and thinkers because of its influence.

I understand why Congress is attempting to stop wasteful spending. However, it disturbs me that (at least in this case) educational funds fall into the category of 'earmarks.' I encourage Congress to rewrite legislation that will categorize these funds differently. In the meantime, I sincerely hope our representatives and senators will listen to the hundreds of teachers visiting them this week and restore the funds for the proven successful, one and only Writing Project.

The Little Hen That Brooded

2011-03-17T19:14:00.005-06:00

Recently my friend Jan shared, "I know God can do what I pray for, but I don't know if He wants to, so I think I need to worry!"

In light of what she said, God showed me I mistake brooding for praying and gave me a picture of myself as a little hen who sits on her nest, believing if I brood there long enough, one of the eggs will hatch a solution to my situation! It's such a waste of time and only ends in perplexity and anxiety.

The Bible Study Fellowship study of Isaiah has given me a glimpse of the immensity and enormity of God. Yet, the Creator of the universe, the orchestrator of history, has the time and the inclination to give me His tender, singular attention.

He is trustworthy and faithful and calls me to "not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God." He doesn't promise every prayer will be answered as we hope, but He does promise when I follow this direction, "the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." (Philippians 4:6-7)

Two True Stories

2011-02-13T20:44:00.008-06:00

This true story, which I heard a long time ago, came to mind this past Wednesday:

One particular Sunday morning, there was a terrible snowstorm. The pastor of a community church did not know what to do about the service. His wife encouraged him to cancel because no one would be coming out in the horrendous weather, but in reflection, the pastor did not feel right to do that, so he went ahead to the church and prepared for the service. Only two young boys were in attendance that day, and after the sermon, both boys came forward and said they wanted to become Christians. The pastor knelt at the altar with those boys and led them to Christ. One of them was the pastor's son.

~ ~ ~

Wednesday morning greeted the Greater Kansas City area with two inches of snow -- a mere dusting after the blizzard conditions of a week ago, but it made the drive to Bible Study Fellowship slippery and tense. By the time I arrived at the church, the administrative team was shuffling and moving small groups (so no one would have to cross the parking lot to meet in an adjacent building), the whole time being bombarded with questions as class members and visitors arrived. The lobby was crowded and noisy with ladies picking up lessons for friends who didn't brave the bad weather. A bit 'shell shocked' and "rattled" is how one administrative leader described us.

The entire time our teaching leader (JS) felt pulled and pressed, thinking, "Why didn't I just cancel?" Group leaders meet for pre-prayer, but J couldn't escape the chaos to get to the room. Hurrying, she said her heart "pounded with nervousness, but when I walked through the door, it was like I entered the throne room of heaven. I did in a way because we were in the presence of our great God! All that tension left, and tears of relief and comfort just flowed out of me. I was so touched and humbled by the grace of God and all of the leaders' tender, precious prayers! It was beautiful and just what I needed; probably what we all needed."

I shared the story about the pastor and his son with JS, and we agreed God reminds us that He is sovereign over snowy roads, icy parking lots, crowded classrooms, ticking clocks and upset plans. His purposes will be accomplished no matter how chaotic things appear.

We learned through the study of Isaiah that comfort means "with strength," and JS concludes, "That's exactly what I received during those few minutes in prayer with you all. The 'chaos' was over in my heart, and I could face the rest of the morning with His strength. Just like that pastor found out one Sunday morning . . . if one person was touched by the Lord Wednesday morning, then that wildness was worth it all!"

Thanks to JS for allowing me to use the text she wrote in an email message to create this post.

Pitfalls for a Christian

2011-02-02T21:19:00.003-06:00

The Apathy of Time Passing
Psalm 90:12 "Teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom."
Ephesians 5:15-16 "Look carefully then how you walk, not as unwise men but wise, making the most of the time for the days are evil."

The Pride of Multi-tasking
Psalm 46:10 "Be still and know that I am God. I am exalted among the nations, I am exalted in the earth."
James 4:6b "God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble

The Frenzy of an Over-Committed Schedule
Exodus 20:11 For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them, and rested on the seventh day; therefore, the Lord blessed the sabbath day and hallowed it."
Hebrews 4:3 "For we who have believed enter that rest."

The Lull of Materialism
Matthew 6:24 "No one can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and money."
1 John 2:16 "For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes and the pride of life is not of the Father but is of the world."

Looking to the Government to Supply Our Needs
Philippians 4:19 "And my God shall supply every need of yours according to His riches in glory."
Matt. 6:33 "Seek first His kingdom and His righteousness and all these things shall be yours as well."

Joseph's Song

2010-12-15T21:25:00.005-06:00

My friend Don introduced me to this beautiful Christmas arrangement and lyrics. The melody is haunting and the words heartfelt as Joseph, an ordinary man, finds himself in an extraordinary position as the earthly father to the Son of God. Overcome by the enormity of this role, he beseeches, "Father show me where I fit into this plan of yours."

Joseph's circumstances were unique, but his desire to know God's will for his life is as old as time itself. A child of God longs to understand God's plan for his/her life, no matter what the situation -- job loss, illness, death of a loved one, retirement, marriage, divorce, widowhood, graduation, becoming a parent, beginning a new job -- the list is endless. The answers as varied as the individuals who are seeking.

Yet, God assures us of this much: "For I know the plans I have for you. . . “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. (Jeremiah 29:11 )

Listen here: Joseph's Song. And may God reveal His plan for you this Christmas season.

So Much Rests on The

2010-11-22T21:53:00.005-06:00

In the Book of John, Jesus said, "I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me." (Chapter 14, Verse 6)

He did not say He is a way.
He did not say He is one way.

Who do you say Jesus is?

Your answer will determine the spiritual abundance of your earthly life.
Your answer will determine where you spend eternity.

Autumn in the Midwest

2010-11-05T10:12:00.010-06:00

The autumn leaves. . .

Waltz across tawny lawns
In golden gowns,
Swaying, swirling
to the symphony of the wind.

Tumble across
The mat of asphalt streets
Like acrobats,
Colliding in exhausted heaps
Of red and orange.

Play tag among passing cars
Like naughty children;
Auburn hair in tangles,
Whispering secrets as they scatter.

Happy, Happy, Happy

2010-11-04T08:13:00.014-06:00

Recently a college friend whom I see only occasionally told me that I looked young, beautiful and happy!

Now, it was nice to be regarded as young and beautiful, especially when the reflection in the mirror reveals a sixty-year-old face with lines around the mouth, a slackness in the jaw, and dark circles under the eyes. The image is definitely not air-brushed!

But when I heard the word HAPPY, my heart leaped because that is a transformational gift from God! Through biblically based counseling at Living Foundation Ministries, God renewed my mind (Romans 12:2) and healed my broken heart (Isaiah 61:1) as He unraveled the tangled threads of depression and perfectionistic thinking embedded so deeply within me. Recovery demanded a lot of tears and a lot of prayers, but over time, I began to notice a deep joy bubbling within.

What joy
to be free of false guilt
to be free of unhealthy shame
to walk in the grace of God
to laugh at myself
to be authentic
to enjoy people with all their quirks and foibles
to love them with abandon
to experience God's faithfulness and redemption

Life is not perfect; I am not perfect! When pounded by busyness, grief, or fatigue, this spring seems to slow to a trickle. But, in truth, life's stresses and burdens will never squelch this bubbling joy, for it is the Living Water (John 7:38) Jesus Christ who said, "Whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst, but the water . . . shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life." (John 4:14).

He is the same yesterday, today, and forever. (Hebrews 13:8)

Daddy

2010-01-09T22:50:00.005-06:00

My dad passed November 29 after a brief illness. My oldest son Jeff and I collaborated on writing his eulogy, and Jeff delivered it. I will miss him for the rest of my life, and I share it here to honor a wonderful man.

Walter Hugh Young was born February 1, 1925, to Dr. Edward Lee Young, Sr., and Alma Johnson Young at the family’s home on South 5th Street in Grandview. His older brother Edward, Jr., was four at the time. Dr. Young had a successful veterinary practice and was the first mayor of Grandview and Alma, who worked hard maintaining the home, was involved in garden clubs and church functions. In his memoirs, Uncle Edward described the four of them as a “happy, loving family.”

Someone told Grandpa’s dad that when a person’s initials spell a word, that person will become a millionaire. Though not a superstitious man, his dad still chose his son’s name, so the initials spelled a word – Why? No, that is what the initials spelled - WHY. Grandpa loved to tell this story and always pointed out that, at least in his case, the idea didn’t work! Grandpa didn’t much like the name Walter and was glad the family chose to call him Hugh.

On March 1, 1933, the family moved from the house on 5th Street to a farm they owned on 150 Highway. Uncle Edward has noted this was when “A great adventure began.” The boys had lots of chores at the farm. They made butter from the fresh cow’s milk, dried the dishes, kept the basement coal and wood bins stocked, snapped green beans, hulled peas, milked cows, watered livestock, etc., but there was still plenty of time for fun!

A favorite play spot was the pond. Grandpa, Edward and their cousins John and Claude Makin made little boats from scrap wood and keels from empty Prince Albert tobacco cans. They added a square sail and let the wind blow the boats across the pond. When John and Edward were about fourteen, their parents permitted them to carry .22 caliber rifles and shotguns. The boys redesigned the boats by boring a hole in the cockpit, so it would accommodate a small burning candle. Then using their father's empty, discarded medicine bottles filled with gasoline, they sailed the boats across the pond, shooting at the bottle with the rifles. When a bottle broke from the shot, the candle flame would ignite the gasoline, and with the sense of accomplishment boys can enjoy, they would watch the boats burn to the water line.

When a former neighbor’s husband died, she gave the boys (with their parents’ permission) his .22 caliber rifle. For two or so years after, Grandpa would walk the farm plinking at selected targets, becoming an expert marksman. Edward would even throw small, discarded vaccine glass bottles into the air 30 or 40 feet, and Hugh would break these every time. For such amazing accuracy, Edward nicknamed him "Dead-Eye Dick."

One summer a man who operated pony-riding rings boarded 10 ponies at the Young farm. He told Dr. Young that it would be fine if his sons wanted to ride them. So, they did. The boys rode bareback and tied clotheslines around the ponies’ lower jaws to guide them. Most of the time, Uncle Edward says they just rode them as fast as they could. But they didn’t just ride them.

They got some croquet mallets and wooden balls and had polo games. After the sunflowers matured in late summer, they cut the stalks and used them for lances and jousted like knights of old, trying to knock each other off the ponies.

During his school years, Grandpa was a member Grandview United Methodist Church and 4-H. At school, he participated in basketball and baseball and served as president of Grandview High School’s student council. The teachers provided Hugh with an excellent education. He was interested in history and literature and had a knack for writing and memorization. Through the years, he often quoted passages from the classics that he had read and studied. Grandma says Grandpa was a favorite of Mrs. Suddath, his English teacher.

Grandpa had many childhood friends, in addition to his brother and cousins. One of them was Lee Soxman, Jr. who is with us today, another Roy Kilby. Grandpa’s mother tucked several Valentines cards in his baby book, and most of them are from Roy through the elementary school years. Kathy remembers one evening her parents answered a knock on the door, and there stood Roy and Minnie Skeens Kilby dropping by for an unannounced visit. From that day on, the Youngs and Kilbys went out to dinner and played pinochle every Saturday night until Roy died in 1974. The two of them ventured into the automatic car wash business in the 1960s. Somehow they managed to turn one hour’s work of cleaning out the stalls, emptying the coin machines, and restocking supplies into two or three! Grandma and Minnie suggested the two alternate turns. That worked for awhile, but Roy and Grandpa had too much fun together to keep to that schedule.

One day during Grandpa’s senior year in high school, he was sitting in home room when a new student – a cute, petite, saucy brunette -- walked into the room and his life. He turned to Minnie and said, “That’s the girl I’m going to marry!”

But those thoughts of marriage were soon put on hold. About a month after graduating, at the age of 18, that Grandpa received his draft notice. He was so excited, so ready to defend his country, that he ran into the retaining wall by the basement door as he entered the house and bruised his face!

He served in the Army’s 422nd Infantry, 106th Division. Stationed in Belgium and France, his unit saw action in the Battle of the Bulge. Grandpa didn’t like to talk much about his war experiences, but finally, in 2000, he did write his war memoirs because he thought it important to preserve this personal bit of history for future progeny. He received a Bronze Star for his service and was proud to have helped stop the spread of Nazism.

Still, I remember asking him about how he and his fellow American soldiers had been labeled as this country’s Greatest Generation. I questioned if he thought that was an accurate description as I took some issue with that. Somewhat surprised, I found Grandpa agreed with me. He always commented that the greatest generation consisted of the men who founded this country, for many of them gave their fortunes, their property, and their lives to establish the United States. Grandpa had great respect for them and a great pride in America.

Two and a half years after being drafted, and seven months after being discharged from the Army, that saucy brunette from high school, Dixie Jean Fizer and Hugh were indeed married by a justice of the peace on June 16th in Olathe, KS. In their playful fashion, they disagreed about why one married the other. Grandpa claims his declaration to Minnie. Grandma claims, “I always told him, ‘I picked you to be the father of my children.’”

Grandpa went to work for McGlone Road Construction. So, he and Grandma purchased a trailer, and for the next several years, the family lived in Nebraska and various places in Missouri. During that time, they had two daughters Kathy Jean born in 1950 and Judith Ann born in 1952. When Kathy neared school age, the family returned to Grandview, so she and Judy would not have to change school districts as they grew. At first, the family parked the trailer west of the Young farm house. Later, they built a home east of the house, and in the early 70s when the state claimed eminent domain to widen 150, Grandpa and Uncle Edward built homes farther off the road. Grandma and Grandpa lived there for 30 years before recently moving to a smaller home still here in Grandview.

After leaving the McGlone Construction, Grandpa went to work for Hydro Butane Gas and later worked for Dusselier Brothers Concrete, then retired from RED Concrete in 1990. Grandpa LOVED retirement. The extra time gave him new hours to devote to his passions: traveling, fishing, and hunting.

When Kathy and Judy were children, they visited Grandma’s sister and family in the St. Louis area, but in later years, Grandpa and Grandma vacationed in much of the United States, focusing on sites that were connected to American history. Grandpa’s favorite seemed to be the “Big Sky” country of Montana. When their daughters were grown, Grandpa and Grandma continued to travel, making almost yearly fishing trips to Canada.

The best trip of all, however, had to be to Europe. Instead of a 50th wedding anniversary party, Grandma and Grandpa invited Kathy and Judy to join them as they visited most of the places Grandpa had been stationed in WWII. It was the trip of a life time and a special time for the four of them.

A member of Missouri Conservation, Hugh enjoyed raising and training pointers and loved hunting with these dogs. His daughters can not remember a time their dad did not own a pointer – usually more than one. We have pictures of two-year-old Judy posing the pet Brittany as she had seen her daddy do during field trial dog shows. From the time they were toddlers, the family dined on dove, squirrel and rabbit – although Kathy worried that might have been Thumper – and quail, oh yes, lots of quail.

Quail is considered a delicacy in many five-star restaurants, and my dad looked forward to his first quail dinner after hearing the others rave. He was stunned when he saw how small the pieces were and how many he had to eat before he was full!

When the family built their home in 1970, the dogs were not left out, being housed in their very own brick building! Grandma said if she was going to look out the kitchen window at dog pens, she wanted it to be an attractive view! The walls of the living room are covered with photographs of dogs on point in the field: Pokey, Belle, Sue, Sweetie, Rip, and Tyrell -- just to name a few. Grandpa’s last pointer was Scout, who, when he no longer hunted, became the family’s 6th grandchild. To be sure, Scout didn’t stay in that nice brick dog pen; she made it to the house! When my grandparents dined out and asked for a doggie bag – it was literally food for the dog!

Through the years, Grandma and Grandpa were blessed with five grandchildren: Pat, Beth, Kristin, Sara, and myself. They were and are the delight of their lives. He survived his first great-grandson, Brock but is survived by three great-granddaughters: Kara, Anna, and Lydia, visits with whom he very much enjoyed.

Suffering through the onset of Alzheimer’s didn’t rob Grandpa of the joy he had in life. His doctor mentioned that it was unusual for someone to keep his sense of humor like he did. That is just one of the many things those of us who knew and loved him best will remember about him – a fun-loving, caring, gracious, gentle, generous, hard-working man who was a faithful husband of 63 years, a good father, a kind-hearted grandpa, and a proud great-grandpa.

Thank you all for sharing in his memories with us today as we celebrate a life that will be greatly missed, but a life we all hope we may one day see again in the glories of Heaven.

Satisfaction

2009-11-04T15:09:00.007-06:00

What satisfies me?

Celebrating special occasions and holidays with family
Reading a good novel: one that pulls me into the setting and lives of its characters, one that leaves me thinking about that place and those people for days afterward
Viewing the night sky through my telescope
Smelling spring in the April air after March's cold and blustery rain
Lingering over lunch with good friends
Presenting someone I love with the perfect gift
Enjoying dinner and a movie with my dear husband
Playing with my granddaughters
Finding bargains when I shop
Sorting clutter and getting organized
Spending Sunday morning worshipping God through music and study

This week in Bible Study Fellowship we covered John 4, where in Verse 34, Jesus tells His disciples, "My nourishment comes from doing the will of God who sent me and from finishing His work." (the Living Bible)

This question was presented: What should a Christian who does not have "heart" satisfaction do to find the same meaning in life? At first, I listed

Spend time alone with God
Meditate on His Word
Surrender to the Holy Spirit
Pray for the Him to infill and guide
Confess sin immediately
Share Jesus with others

Then I stopped to re-read a referenced verse in Acts 20:24, where Paul says, ". . . neither do I count my life dear unto myself, so that I might finish my course with joy, and the ministry, which I have received of the Lord Jesus to testify the gospel of the grace of God." (King James)

To allow God to order my time in service to Him, to rest and abide in the confidence that He can take care of my life's details while placing me just where He needs me at any given moment, to place His kingdom work at the top of my to-do list, to pray for the grace to share Jesus with any needy soul, to let go and let God -- herein lies true "heart" satisfaction.

Well-Wishers

2009-10-26T14:12:00.009-06:00

This was posted at my former blog "marmee's musings in April, 2006. Today my Bible study included John 4 and reminded me of this post. It appears here for the first time.

I have a definite image of what a well should look like: a stone and mortar structure, topped with a rack-shambled roof and a sturdy, cranking handle to lower and raise the bucket that dangles from a rope. The kind that might be depicted in a children's book with old-fashioned illustrations. The kind you throw a penny in and make a wish.

My grandma had an abandoned well on her farm, which had always been covered by only a concrete slab. Equipped with an electric pump, it had once provided water for the house -- no penny wishes, no dipping bucket. It was a point of interest because my mother continuously warned my sister and me not to remove the cover. I marveled that she thought her four-year-old had such brute strength!

Today my interest in wells turns to the Bible, especially regarding two women: one from the Old Testament and one from the New. It was barren Sarah's doing that Hagar was pregnant, but when Hagar lorded it over her mistress, Sara demanded her departure. (See Genesis 16.)

As Hagar sat by a well (fountain) in the wilderness, did wishes march through her mind in drumming despair? Did she wish Abraham loved her? That she had displayed a humble spirit? That Sara had never suggested their arrangement in the first place? In His mercy, God sent an Angel of the Lord (the preincarnate Christ) to Hagar who commanded her to return to Sara and comforted her with news that she would have a son whose seed would become a great multitude. In gratitude, Hagar named this well Beer-lahai-roi -- "a well of the Living One who sees me" (Genesis 16:14).

Returning must have been difficult, and perhaps it was not what Hagar wished, but surely the Lord's presence quenched her misery, and His promise made the circumstances bearable.

Over two thousand years later, Jesus met a Samaritan woman by a well. (See John 4.) She, too, was an outcast, perhaps wishing for acceptance and respectability, for a way to escape her promiscuity. By visiting the well at mid-day, she avoided respectable women who gathered water in the cool of morning or evening.

So, imagine her surprise when a Jewish man not only asked her for a drink (Jews considered Samaritans as unclean.) but also identified the reason she was shunned and then offered her a drink of the Living Water. The Water that cleanses, refreshes, renews; a water that would reside in her as a "well. . . springing up into everlasting life" (John 4:14).

What are your wishes today? Peace of mind? Reconciliation? A second chance? Healing? Whatever wish resides in your heart, turn to the Living One Who Sees, the Living Water. He is not a Disneyland magican who makes all your dreams come true, but He promises to never leave nor forsake you, to see you through every trial, to shield you from every temptation, to bring you safely home into His arms for all eternity.

Isn't that worth wishing for?

The Church's Place in Public School Education

2009-10-12T10:11:00.009-05:00

Yesterday my book club had a lively discussion about Outliers: Stories of Success by Maxwell Gladwell, which included the question: Just how much should a public school system supply in the place of negligent parents?

On another note, I also lamented that Gladwell ignored how the spiritual aspect of a person's life might affect his/her personal story.

Both of these points led me to look up some information about a program I learned of a few years ago:

The National Church Adopt-A-School Initiative (NCAASI) began with Oak Cliff Bible Fellowship Church in Dallas, led by Pastor Tony Evans. Evans grew up in urban Baltimore and faced the inherent challenges of that environment. He says: "Government has spent trillions of dollars to reverse and elevate this spiral of social disintegration, yet the problems and pain grow worse with each passing day. I believe the reason for this is the separation of the spiritual from the social. There is a horrific disconnect between the role of the church on Sunday and the condition of hurting people on Monday. This changed in my own life and family when my father discovered the life-giving power of faith and began operating differently because of it. Our home became different from most of the other homes in my neighborhood because the connection had been made between the spiritual and the social." (The Vision of Dr. Tony Evans)

This church networks with the Dallas public school system and suburban community churches to create an extensive ministry out-reach to the urban families in Dallas. Also, it offers training to other churches/school districts/communities to replicate their success across the country. Their purpose is to come alongside the students and their families "by seeking holistic, long-term solutions of meeting needs in a way that changes how people think, which ultimately determines how they live." The philosophy is "not a hand out, but a hand up." (Kingdom Agenda)

They provide

Mentoring
Tutoring
Life Skills and Character Education
Sports and Recreation
Family Support Services such as food, shelter and clothing; adult education; career development; job placement assistance; and preventive medical checks.

Making school days/year longer will not make lasting changes in the lives of students. Yes, it will give teachers more time to mentor and influence young people, as one club member so eloquently stated from his own experiences. (I can not underestimate the power of one individual to reach another -- many teachers influenced my life for the better.)

But, to me, only adding more time to the day/year, only providing breakfast, only doing whatever we can think of to do because the parents are not doing it, is a "hand out, not a hand up." I do not mean, educators all need to be Christians who evangelize and proselytize their students. I do mean that the best way to change students' lives is to address the "whole" person, and the whole community needs to be involved, and that includes the church/synagogue/mosque/temple.

Visit this video link to learn more about NCAASI .

Morning Like This

2009-08-09T20:00:00.002-05:00

On cool spring mornings when the sun parts the dark sky, waving pink scarves over the horizon, and the dew beads on the grass as sparkling diamonds, I think of the lyrics to "Morning Like This" as Mary Magdalene discovered the empty tomb. How jubilant the creation must have been because the Creator had risen!

Did the grass sing?
Did the earth rejoice
To feel you again?...
Over and over like a Trumpet underground,
Did the earth seem to pound: “He is risen.”
Over and over in a never ending round
“He is risen, alleluia, alleluia!”

Silver

2009-08-08T23:46:00.003-05:00

Tonight the moon is a beauty, reminding me of a favorite poem:

Silver
Walter de la Mare

Slowly, silently, now the moon
Walks the night in her silver shoon;
This way, and that, she peers, and sees
Silver fruit upon silver trees;
One by one the casements catch
Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;
Couched in his kennel, like a log,
With paws of silver sleeps the dog;
From their shadowy cote the white breasts peep
Of doves in silver feathered sleep
A harvest mouse goes scampering by,
With silver claws, and silver eye;
And moveless fish in the water gleam,
By silver reeds in a silver stream.

Knowing How*

2009-08-01T16:54:00.008-05:00

Have you ever tossed and turned through the night, unable to sleep, trying to figure out how your circumstances are going to be resolved?

Good news! We do not have to know the how's in our time of need. 2 Peter 2:9 says "The Lord knows how to rescue the godly from trials." We do not have to have all the answers, we just need to take care of the what's.

But what if we don't even know what to do? Then do what you know: read the Bible, pray, worship, praise, seek wise counsel. These are the things all believers are called to do -- in seasons of trial and in seasons of calm.

God will take care of the rest. Determine to trust Him.

*This insight is from Beth Moore's study Esther: It's Tough Being a Woman.

Students

2009-07-24T15:23:00.004-05:00

The year before I retired from public school teaching, God and I had a lot of talks. While I was eager to leave the bureaucracy and politics that have encroached on the creativity of both students and teachers, leaving my students was another matter.

I loved them like they were my own children, and I was going to miss interacting with them. God assured me there would be other students, and there have been. I taught summer school in 2005, thoroughly enjoying the 12 juniors who were in that class. I've been able to catch up with many former students on Facebook, and it has been so fun to learn what they are doing now.

Having spent my career at the middle and high school levels, I never thought that my heart would be captured by kindergartners, but that is exactly what happened during VBS. The week was a hectic one, but all I remember is five sweet smiles and eager faces filled with the wonder of exploring and learning. They love God, and I pray that faith will deepen as they mature, that they will walk with Jesus all the days of their lives.

God keeps His promises, and I am blessed!

Children and Kids

2009-07-22T22:12:00.003-05:00

Sunday's vacation Bible school memory verse was 1 John 3:1 "God loves us and calls us His children."

D., one of the kindergarteners, memorized it this way: "God loves us and calls us His kids."

There is something warmly familiar in that translation, something comfortable and confident. As a little child trusts that his daddy will spend time with him, teach him, and provide for him, we, too, can place in our faith and trust in our Heavenly Daddy -- Abba Father.

Waiting

2009-07-21T09:55:00.005-05:00

We are often reminded to "wait upon the Lord." But do we ever think about God waiting upon us?

Isaiah 30:18a says, "The Lord will wait that he may be gracious to you, and therefore he will be exalted that he may have mercy upon you. . ."

Today's devotion in the wonderful Streams in the Desert states: "God is a wise gardener 'who waits for the precious fruit of the earth and has long patience for it.' He can not gather fruit until it is ripe. He knows when we are spiritually ready to receive the blessing to our profit and His glory."

God created time, and God uses time. While He waits for us, may we also wait for Him in the blessings and trials of our lives.

Catching Up

2009-03-13T13:00:00.007-06:00

Where have I been for the last two months? What have I been doing?

January 18-31 finished the GKCWP newsletter, took it to the printer, picked it up, affixed address labels and mailing tabs -- my dear husband took all 100+ of them to the post office.

February 10 awoke with a strange pinching in my neck that traveled to my elbow A chiropractic adjustment and massage seemed to solve the problem.

February 12 flew to Chicago to meet some Literary Mamas and attend the American Writers and Poets conference, after which I planned on spending a few days with my sister who lives north of the Windy City.

February 13 awoke in tremendous pain -- spent the morning rearranging my flight, beseeching the hotel staff not to charge me for another night, spending an agonizing morning at the airport, wishing someone would tranquilize me during the flight home

February 14- 25 Lay in bed, on my back, studying the patterns in the textured ceiling of my bedroom.

February 26 an MRI reveals dengenerative problems in my neck. Sigh!

March 13 two cervical epidural steroid injections later, I am typing this, counting my blessings.

Tyler

2009-01-18T15:11:00.003-06:00

Tyler was one of those people who was not cut out for the one-size-fits-all routine of public education. He's brilliant and thoughtful -- quiet and unassuming -- and I'm sure school bored him much of the time because typical busy work (a bane to any student) did not tap into those deep places of his intellect or creativity. A fine arts school would have been more to his liking, I imagine -- a place where he could excel in music and theatre production with like-minded classmates and teachers.

His parents expectations and demands, while well meaning, did not recognize that their son marched to the beat of a different drummer. While I tried to offer him something substantial (as, I'm sure, other teachers did), he didn't always respond to those opportunities. Yet, Tyler is one of my most memorable students.

While in England, I bought a cardboard model of The Globe Theatre and about half-way through its assembly, I gave up on it. When I asked my freshman if anyone would be interested in helping me, it was not until seventh hour, Tyler said, "I can do that for you." I remember the day he stayed after school to work on it, chatting with me freely and comfortably.

It was my good fortune to have Tyler in one of my junior English classes two years later -- still remember smiling when I saw his name on the class roster! That fall he read the part of Danforth in The Crucible with such finesse and expression that I called on him every day to take that part! His skill was beyond his years! And to a teacher who had listened to dozens of teenagers butcher Miller (and Shakespeare) over the years, his delivery was as welcome as a spring breeze on the edge of winter.

Every morning before the first bell during his senior year, Tyler and a group of friends (most my students) could be found in the 900 hall (near my room). Between book bags and long limbs, the 10 of them (give or take) sprawled across the floor. Some were annoyed by having to step over, through or around them, but I was always glad to see their camaraderie, their smiles.

Recently, I found him on Facebook and am delighted to catch up on what he's doing now. God's blessings to you, Tyler, for pressing on through the challenges of high school and family dynamics and for helping make my years as your teacher two of my favorite!

Laughter

2008-12-08T19:30:00.004-06:00

Proverbs 17:22 says, "A merry heart does good like a medicine, but a broken spirit dries the bones." This verse came to mind throughout the past week, beginning with an incident at Wal-mart.

I was in the restroom there when a stall door opened, and a little boy and his mom stepped out. The boy (about 3) had a big yellow smiley face sticker on the end of his nose. I couldn't help but smile at him. He acted like it was the most natural thing in the world! Wish I had had my camera!

I've been trying to write more about my years as a teacher, and these two memories popped up:
One hundred years ago teachers did not keep their grades on a computer. Instead, we kept a grade book. When it was grade card time, we had to hand write the grade cards. One particular quarter, the staff was directed to put our students grade cards in their first hour teachers' mail box, as cards would be distributed by them. (As I write this, it makes no sense. Why didn't each teacher hand out her own cards?) Anyway, I had dutifully made a note to remind me to get those names, and at the end of first hour, I walked to the front of the room and said, "I need to get the name of your first hour teacher." The kids burst out laughing, and for a second, I didn't see why. Then I realized what I had done -- and laughed with them.

Apparently, I am always slow on the upbeat: Here's an even more embarrassing moment. Upon returning to school after a couple of sick days, I found a mechanical nut on my desk. I thought nothing more about it until sixth hour, when for some reason, I asked my journalism class, which included three or four football players, "Did any of you lose a nut?" They all burst out laughing --howling, really. They were such a rowdy group anyway, and I was a bit irritated by their behavior. So, I said, "Well, did you or didn't you?" Of course, that set them off even more! Suddenly, I realized why they were laughing! All I can blame it on was that I was about 8 months pregnant.:)

I pray that if your heart is troubled today, God will give you something to lighten it. If your heart is merry, I pray you will share that joy with someone.

Turkey Day

2008-11-27T08:00:00.002-06:00

Have a blessed Thanksgiving!

Grandma

2008-11-25T20:08:00.003-06:00

Yesterday was my maternal grandma's birthday anniversary. She lived to be 94, and though she's been gone 14 years, I still think of her often.

She taught my sister and me to play Spoons and Old Maid. When she went shopping, she'd always bring us some little something -- a toy, a scarf, or a book. She delighted in her grandchildren, and like a true grandma spoiled us as much as she could.

This time of year I always think about her culinary talents. The kitchen is where she shined. She made everything from scratch -- from lemonade to chocolate cake. She was, in fact, rather famous for her chocolate cake. She took that cake to every pot luck dinner she ever attended. At one point, she decided maybe people were tired of it, so she switched to a different recipe. It wasn't long before others were asking, "Where's Stella's chocolate cake?"

She was always in charge of the pies at Thanksgiving, and while I have her recipes, I can never quite duplicate the taste of these pastries. Part of the problem stems from her measurements: one heaping spoonful of flour. Spoon refers to a serving spoon, and heaping means "not level, but not too much either." She always had just the right amount; just the right touch.

I'll make a pumpkin pie for Thursday, and it will taste good. It just won't be as good as grandma's.

Having a Mary Heart Request

2008-11-14T16:27:00.005-06:00

This post is for Debbie, who wanted to know where to read my posts about Having a Mary Heart in a Martha World by Joanna Weaver.

Click here to visit my old blog: marmee's musings and, Debbie, thank you for your encouraging words. I am thrilled that you like my writing and visit here often!

Being Remembered

2008-11-14T13:32:00.004-06:00

A few weeks ago a former student found my email address through Google and contacted me. We have been emailing, catching up, and sharing our faith experiences and family pictures.

I've really enjoyed the communication. We're both teachers. We love Franklin, Tennessee, and a local eatery Meridee's Breadbasket. We attended the same college. We both have two boys (though his are much younger than mine). We love reading . . . the list goes on.

Being only ten years older than he, now makes us peers, so when he surprised me with a call yesterday, we just talked and talked! During the conversation, he said, "I remember something about you." Not really knowing what he would say, I wasn't prepared for this:

"You popped your contact out of your eye, put it in your mouth, and then popped it back into your eye! You were diagramming a sentence (which shows how long ago this occurred -- no one diagrams sentences anymore!), but after doing that you lost me. I think you traumatized the whole class!" I have no memory of that moment, but I did wet my contacts that way -- not something I recommend! Anyway, his memory gave me more than a good laugh!

When I was considering retirement, one of my biggest concerns was that I would miss relationships with my students. But one day, within my spirit, God said, "There will be other students." I didn't know those others would include some from long ago coming back into my life, but I'm most grateful!

Oz

2008-11-14T12:54:00.009-06:00

Thanksgiving approaches, but I keep thinking about Halloween and my granddaughter's Wizard of Oz ensemble: Kara as the scarecrow, Anna as Dorothy, and Lydia as Toto (or TO TO as Kara pronounces (and advises others to) it!

Krista's brainstorm for the costumes began with a pair of hand-me-down ruby slippers, which Anna wants to wear every day. Someone loaned her Dorothy's dress, but then she improvised Kara's outfit, using a pair of maternity pants rolled over at the waist and ankles. With a dark green turtleneck adorned with burlap and raffia and some face makeup, Kara was applauded everywhere she wore the costume (a night at the zoo, library story time, a party, and trick-or-treating) Krista lamented that Lydia's costume wasn't quite accurate, as TOTO, depicted in the movie, was brown, and the ears more resembled a cat's, but I said who cares? Not me! Personally, I thought we needed to find a costume contest to enter!

I spent the weekend with my friend who moved to Kentucky this summer. On Friday night, her school had a Pumpkin Patch in a way I'd never experienced. Vans, SUVs, and trucks parked in the school lot and opened their back doors or tailgates which had been decorated in some appropriate way. Families arrived, and the kids trick or treated from vehicle to vehicle. Inflatables and a concession stand (serving delicious chili) added to the fun.

A Six Year Anniversary

2008-11-09T17:13:00.003-06:00

Today is the anniversary of Brock's stillbirth. He would be six today-- and maybe he is six in Heaven! (I don't know.)

I think of him often and miss his presence in our family. But more often I think about how God revealed His goodness to me during the long healing process. That revelation has deepened my faith and changed me in ways that would not have happened if Brock had lived.

As my natural self, I would be willing to give up this spiritual profundity, but in my desire to live for my King, I gladly surrender to His sovereignty and will. I do not understand the whys of tragedy, but my experience is living proof of Romans 8:28 "All things work together for good for those who love the Lord and are called according to His purpose."

Because of Christ's sacrifice on the cross, I have an assurance that I will see Brock again. Do you, dear reader, have the assurance that you will spend the next part of eternity in Heaven? If not, I pray that you would acknowledge your need of a Savior and ask Him to come into your life and justify you before God the Father. Then ask Him to be your Lord, and He will sanctify you to grow in the likeness of Christ.

I made this decision when I was 28, and I have never regretted doing so. It is the most important decision any human has to make.

Word Problem and Essay

2008-10-24T11:56:00.007-05:00

On August 16th (Same Song, Tenth Verse), Kathy set a goal to have 100 posts on her blog by October 31. Today is October 24, and Kathy has 84 posts (including this one). How many days does Kathy have to meet her goal. How many posts does she need to write to meet her goal?

Even I, dyslexic with numbers, can figure out this word problem. Kathy has 7 days to post 16 entries.

Let's turn the math question into an essay (more to my liking).

Do you think Kathy will meet her goal? Explain your answer by citing details about Kathy, her schedule, and her writing habits to support your answer.

Kathy is too tired to post 16 times in 7 days. Every day between September 15-30, Kathy's calendar was packed with activities: Writing Project duties (office work, newsletter, and writing retreat), Bible study preparation, Bible study/church/Sunday school attendance, spending a Saturday with an out-of-town friend, going to physical therapy twice a week (for a back problem) and going to the hospital (for heart palpatations caused by stress).

From Oct 7-23, Kathy again found herself coming and going as she continued her Bible study prep, church attendance, and WP office duties. Oct. 10-11 was the writing retreat. Oct.16-18 was joyfully occupied with family when her sister came home. This week she cleaned her house and began painting a bedroom and hallway. October 21 the neighborhood HOA meet at her house.

On October 27, she leaves for Kentucky, which is always packed with nonstop energy of three beautiful granddaughters. (no complaint there!) In fact, none of these are complaints on Kathy's part; her life full, and she has determined to go with the flow when her calendar events collide like a 20 car pile up.

Kathy could meet her goal if she moved some more posts from marmee's musings to here, or she could post twice a day (as she has today). But more importantly, God has been showing Kathy a lot about the pockets of perfectionism that still shadow her thinking (note previous mention of heart palpatations). He's helping her let go of impossible expectations and the dismay she feels when life doesn't go as planned. In short, He's given her permission to give herself permission to fall short of her goal, and to know that doing so is okay.

Serendipty

2008-10-24T11:31:00.005-05:00

Since joining Literary Mama, I've communicated with or read about women who began writing when they were children. Since I came to know the writer in me much later in life (though I've saved poems fraught with adolescent angst), these mamas' memories make me wistful.

Then last weekend my sister and I helped my mom and dad clean out an old trunk where my mom revealed a forgotten cache of elementary workbooks she had saved for us. Tucked inside one of mine was a letter I had written in 4th grade. It was obviously an assignment, as I talked about visiting Courage Cove (a place unknown to me).

The letter is unremarkable except for one passage: "I went to Courage Cove this Monday while I was there there was a storm. But rain can't keep me in. I wandered all around the place I went to to Gray's Repair shop. . ." Tucked between two run on (one awkwardly constructed) sentences, I see a glimmer of my writing voice.

That made me happy.

Another Enjoyable Writing reTREAT

2008-10-13T14:45:00.011-05:00

The Greater Kansas City Writing Project's 6th Annual Retreat was this past weekend. This year we stayed at the Hyatt Regency at Crown Center.

The elegant suite offered a fantastic view of downtown KC.

The food was delicious! Once again we ate dinner at Milano, an Italian restaurant in Crown Center. Afterward we had cheesecake and coffee in the suite. Each guest had a gift card for Panera for breakfast and/or lunch, and snacks and soft drinks were available all day in the suite.

The 16 participants were enthusiasitc and supportive of one another. In our share-out Saturday evening, we enjoyed a variety of voices, genres, and topics: The Kansas City Star and its connection to World War I, a novel inspired by the Old Testament, the hilarious adventures of using an online dating service in the quest for Mr. Right, a mother and son's journey through Asperger Syndrome, a sonnet about Kansas City, and others.

And the uninterrupted time to write was truly priceless.

The Hardy Hibscus

2008-10-08T16:11:00.008-05:00

A hardy hibiscus is one that will survive Midwest winters, and they are planted in the ground.

My hibiscus is a potted plant, but I'm so happy that I have nurtured it to live through one winter and two summers! I brought it inside a few weeks ago, and it has bloomed twice since then.

I will say no more, lest I jinx its health, but isn't it pretty?

Speaking of Perfectionism

2008-10-05T19:59:00.005-05:00

This was my first post at marmee's musings.

I am a recovering perfectionist.

Sometimes when I say that, people chuckle. I assume they think I'm making a joke -- parodying AA's famous introductory statement: "Hi, I'm Kathy, and I'm an alcoholic." Believe me, perfectionism is no joke.

Some see perfectionism as an admirable quality because they equate it with excellence. However, there is a big difference. People who seek excellence do their best at any given endeavor; they are able to differentiate the finished product from themselves. Their motto is I did my best, and my best is good enough. Perfectionists, on the other hand, see falling short of excellence as a character flaw. They think I should have tried harder; I'm a failure.

So what does this all have to do with strawberries? Well, recently, I was enrolled in a beginner's water color class through a local adult education program. The first night the teacher showed us (among other things) how to use materials such as alcohol, salt, rubber cement, etc., to create certain looks to our paintings. In the second session, he brought some fruit and asked us to create a still life, incorporating one of the techniques he had taught the previous week.

I sketched some strawberries and an apple then dotted the berries with rubber cement, so when I applied the red paint, it would leave white spots. When the red paint was dry, I could then rub off the cement and apply a different color to create the seeds.

The apple was a disaster from the first stroke. I used the wrong brush to get the needed effect, and I applied yellow paint first, which bled into my red, leaving my apple looking more like a peach. So, I abandoned it and turned to the strawberries, which at one point looked pretty good, if I do say so myself. Well, the berries were too pale, and the seeds were too big, but otherwise, they looked pretty good.

Several people, including the instructor, peeked over my shoulder and agreed; the strawberries had turned out pretty well. The class then moved onto a different project -- except for me. I fixated on my strawberries that just looked "pretty good" but not perfect. So. . .

I mixed some more red paint with water and painted over each berry. Now, water color is not like oil paint, which can be painted over and over and over without doing any damage. I turned my pretty red berries into this muddy mess as the seed's yellowish brown color bled into the red color. By the time I was done, they looked like the berries the produce customer would have designated for the compost pile.

Because I am a recovering perfectionist, I was able to separate my self-image from my picture. I did not feel like a moral failure because I ruined my strawberries. Still, I saw my old nemesis raise his ugly head, and I learned another object lesson: leave the strawberries alone.

Marmee and Money

2008-10-03T10:05:00.005-05:00

When Jeff's family and I ate at a Mexican restaurant recently, Kara had one thing on her mind: the mini arcade positioned by the front door.

Our booth was on the opposite side of a short partition that divided the dining area from the video games and vending machines. Always propelled by curiosity, Kara kept standing up (and sitting down at her father's direction), so she could survey all the fun things.

After she finished eating and because he could see the games from where he sat, Jeff granted her request to leave the table. While Krista packed the diaper bag, and Jeff filled the leftovers containers, Kara rounded the partition and headed straight to me with one pressing question: "Do you have any money?"

Perfectionism: A Too Familiar Tune

2008-10-02T09:30:00.009-05:00

Once again I find myself in a familiar place: battling perfectionistic thinking. This time it stems from a new job as the assistant to the director of the Greater Kansas City Writing Project. (Katie, the director, refers to me as the assistant director, but I can't quite own that label!)

I love Katie and so many other people I get to work with, and I love the work. More than once in the last several years, I have said being someone's assistant would be fun, and then Katie asked me to take this position for this school year. What a blessing! After (minimal-- I confess -- perhaps my first mistake) prayer, I agreed.

As I settle into a routine, anxiety sits on my chest, much like a 100-pound gorilla. This is old stuff, and I've pulled out every tool God has given me to have victory: reciting scripture, praying, confessing, seeking wise counsel -- yet nothing has changed the fluttery heart and shortness of breath.

Yesterday at Bible Study Fellowship (where we are studying Moses) our teaching leader commented on how Moses 'messed up' when he tried to help a fellow Israelite by murdering an Egyptian. She went on to talk about our 'mess ups' -- in our relationships, in our educational experience, with our children, on the job. And in the middle of her list, God whispered (in my mind) Will you let me be the God of your 'mess ups'? In that simple question, the Holy Spirit revealed that in my fears, I am ultimately saying my mistakes are too big for God to handle. How arrogant of me! I repent and am thankful for a merciful God who forgives.

The question did not have a magical effect by removing every trace of anxiety, but I purpose to go on with God, and I am greatly comforted to know that He promises to never leave me nor forsake me. I'm in good hands.

A Second Professional Blessing

2008-09-28T00:37:00.005-05:00

In 1983, a group of teachers in the Blue Springs District signed up for a mini-writing class given by the Greater Kansas City Writing Project. We met each Saturday morning for about six weeks. There I was introduced to writing as a process, to 'showing' the reader, and many other techniques that would become a regular part of my writing instruction.

In 1993, I was accepted to attend the Greater Kansas City Writing Project's Summer (Invitational) Institute. It was a rigorous six-weeks, meeting all day, five days a week. We read two texts, journaled about them, drafted and revised three papers, and planned and presented a demonstration on a instructional lesson/activity of our choice. Whew!

Upon completion of the course, the participants become teacher consultants. The summer left me eager to return to my classroom brimming with lots of great ideas, and the desire to continue working with the project. The National Writing Project's philosophy is teachers are the best instructors of other teachers, and teachers should be paid for their expertise, so I was also interested in remaining active in some capacity. Soon after completing the course, I stayed connected to the GKCWP in various ways, but as time passed, I pulled back as I worked on earning my masters and devoted time to my family.

When I retired in 2004, I looked forward to rejoining the Project in some capacity -- I didn't really know what. It so happened that the site had received a grant to participate in Project Outreach Network -- which basically focused on helping teachers and students who live in the urban areas of our site's territory. That led to my being the editor for the project's newsletter. (which I love doing!)

This past spring I was asked to be the assistant to the director during the '08-'09 school year.

I have often said that I would love to be someone's assistant. I like clerical work and enjoy organizing and tending to details. It's fun to see all the work that teacher consultants

Spaghetti Dinner and Other Blessings

2008-09-24T18:31:00.004-05:00

Every Wednesday during the school year, my church serves a hearty meal. Different folks volunteer to cook the main course and side dishes, another team of volunteers bring desserts. The church secretary prepares ingredients for a garden salad - and Wa La! Dinner is served! It's a great time to catch up with people, eat good food, and, for mom (and maybe dad) to breathe a sigh of relief that there's one night with no KP duty.

My favorite Wednesday meal is Raymond Bazley's spaghetti dinner. Ray and his wife Melissa own a restaurant where they are hands-on owners, so the kitchen is a familiar and comfortable place for them. I can't say exactly why I like Raymond's spaghetti so much -- it doesn't have any secret ingredients that I know of. It just "hits my spot" as my friend Jan likes to say.

Tonight was spaghetti night, so I was there -- early -- one of the first in line (and I made it a point to bring my husband a carry out plate since he had to work late.) But tonight's dinner tasted extra special. It was more savory than normal.

You see, Raymond and Melissa were in a terrible accident recently. While on their way home from Ray-Mels, their motorcycle was hit by a car driven by a drunk driver. Ray tried everything he could to get out of the car's path, but like a magnet attracted to a steel beam, the car just kept coming at them.

Both of them suffered major injuries, and Raymond lost one foot. They have spent long days in the hospital and long days at home. Every chore is a major ordeal as they maneuver wheel chairs around the house. Every routine trip in the car requires getting to the car, getting out of the wheelchairs, getting the wheel chairs into the car, getting themselves into the car, etc. I'm exhausted just thinking about it.

So, tonight I celebrate life with them. I thank God for sparing them, for allowing them more time with their family, their restaurant crew, and their friends at church and elsewhere.

Tonight's spaghetti dinner never tasted better, for it was seasoned with a heaping cup of gratitude.

Sincerely Yours

2008-09-14T19:31:00.008-05:00

Tonight I wrote a rejection letter to someone who submitted an essay to Literary Mama. I hate writing them, and every time I struggle with the wording, to be gracious, honest, and sincere. In fact, I closed with "Sincerely," which brought this (with revisions) post (from my old blog) to mind.

I fall in love with words. Sounds silly, I know, but I do! I love how the English language provides a broad variety of words to express precisely what I want to say. I love the connotation and nuance of them. I like to say words that fill up my mouth or create a gymnastic exercise for my lips and tongue: discombobulated, tumultuous, persnickety.

I also enjoy learning about word etyomology, so a story I read many years ago about sincere captured my attention. It was a charming story of how Greek column makers used the roots sine (without) and cera (wax) to advertised their marble columns. Disreputable carvers hid column flaws by filling them with wax, but a column advertised as sine cera meant the column was pure marble. Over time, the word entered the Greek lexicon and was used to describe other things that were honest, pure, or clean.

Sometime later I bought a tape which included the song "Sincerely Yours," about writing a letter to the Lord. My knowledge of the word's root coupled with my desire to love the Lord with all my heart, mind, and soul, prompted me to make the song's words my life's motto.

But as I close, I see a phrase I took for granted,
And it leaps out as I see it written there.
And as the truth of it begins to become planted,
These two words have now become my heartfelt prayer:
Sincerely yours. Lord, I sign my life to You, sincerely yours.
With a strong and honest wish
To be the best that I can be at what I am,
Without a thought for me.
Lord, teach me how to be Sincerely Yours . . .
1979, Paragon Music/ASCAP

Recently I discovered the Greek reference is most likely not true. Instead, sincere stems from the Latin sincerus, meaning "clean" or "pure,"and cere originates from an Indo-European root ker- "to grow. " The combination creates "pure or honest growth." (TakeOurWord) Ever the romantic, I was disappointed to learn the story about the marble columns is not accurate, but that doesn't deter my interest in sincerity, and it doesn't deter my desire to stand before my Lord pure and clean.

Of course, I can not do that under my own power; I am totally dependent on the shed blood of Christ to cleanse me of sin. Do I still sin? Yes, unfortunately I do, but God looks upon the inner person and sees a heart bent to obedience, a heart sincerely seeking Him. Sin has not mastered me, and that pleases God. For His grace and mercy, I am sincerely grateful.

Remembering September 11

2008-09-11T15:00:00.004-05:00

Last November I visited Ground Zero for the 2nd time. Unlike my first visit in 2005, the fence surrounding it was covered in most places, perhaps to keep the construction of the memorial and new buildings somewhat private until the future dedication and reveal.

I especially remember FDNY Firehouse Engine 10 and Ladder 10. The station is right across the street from the former towers, and the crew lost five men during the attacks. The station itself was severely damaged, and the surviving men were split up and sent to different precints until the station was restored.

The first time I was there, the station doors were closed, though I noticed a memorial on the wall commemorating their crew members who died on September 11. I often think of that station, and in November, when the station doors were open, I spoke to one of the men on duty, telling him about my father-in-law, who was a fireman and a fiercely patriotic American, and how I was certain, had he been living in 2001, he would have gone to New York to help with recovery and clean-up.

The station sells t-shirts to raise money for a college fund that benefits children who lost their fathers on that infamous day, so I bought one for my husband to show my support (though it seemed a pittance) of the Enginehouse 10 crew and the thousands of people who lives were personally changed. They are nameless to me, but I know they are not to God, and that is why today I pray for them.

A Professional Blessing

2008-09-09T09:17:00.005-05:00

In November, 2005, while looking for a quote with a gardening/writing metaphor, I came across a website called Literary Mama. Posted above the linked text was a call for a copy editor.

Dated June, 2005, I thought the position had surely been filled but inquired anyway. To my surprise and good fortune, the position was still open, and the editors sent me a text to edit in way of an interview. That was a little nerve-wracking because I had perused the site and saw how many of the literary mamas held doctorates, had published books, and taught at the college level. It seemed their expertise dwarfed my secondary level teaching experience and my masters plus 40 hours (which moved me to the top of the pay scale -- I've never had an inkling to get my Phd.)

Still, my participation in a long-distance writing course with The Institute of Children's Literature (where Bill Wagner, a former editor of Jack and Jill , was my mentor) and my years as advisor to Blue Springs South's literary magazine had honed my editing skills, so I stepped out in faith, attached my edited file to an email, and hit 'send.'

Now almost three years later, Literary Mama has grown to an international staff of 35 women, and I am currently a co-editor of the Literary Reflections deparment. It is an awesome experience to work with such an accomplished, supportive group of women, and to have met and worked with many talented writers who submit work to the site or have become linked through online classes. This coming February many Mamas plan to attend the AWP Conference in Chicago for a first LM reunion. I am so anxious to see them face to face and give them each a hug (or a handshake for those not so touchy-feely ones).

My life has been enriched by our association, and I'm grateful for the serendipitious moment that linked me to the LM site. What a professional blessing!

Being Marmee

2008-09-07T14:45:00.010-05:00

I just returned from a trip to to see my son's family -- most specifically my three granddaughters!

Only Kara accompanied her dad to the airport to pick me up, but she wanted me to sit in the backseat by her car seat, well not exactly next to her, because ever particular, she wanted the box of books between us. I read two books on the way home.

Upon entering the apartment, Anna, up from her nap, greeted me with a hug, and as I picked up Lydia to say hello, I suddenly wished I had three arms and three laps, as Kara and Anna pressed against us vying for attention.

Then it was off to the bedroom to find a game to play: Memory with Disney characters, being the first choice. Spreading the cards out of on the floor, Kara flung a few at Anna, with a disengaged "Here, Anna, these are yours!" (to keep her from disturbing the "real" game we would play). Memory was quickly followed by round of Feed the Kitty. (Where this time Kara tossed a few mice at Anna for the same reason she flung the Memory cards!) That was followed by Where's the Button, a round of Hi-Ho Cherry O, more reading and chalk art.

At that point, I had been at the apartment almost three hours -- loving every minute of it!

Sweet Joy

2008-08-23T18:48:00.006-05:00

This spring when the ice cream truck began its run through the apartment complex where my son's family lives, the ever inquisitive Kara wanted to know what that music was. My son muttered some forgettable remark, and whatever he said satisfied Kara, and that was the end of the matter.

Then, while visiting in May, Grandpa and I took Kara and Anna to a nearby park, and who should show up? The ice cream man! Could any grandparent refuse a grandchild this childhood right of passage? Could any grandparent pass up the chance to see a child light up with joy? Maybe, but not us.

So we splurged on a Bratz Doll concoction that tasted even worse than it looked and marked the momentous occasion with a couple of pictures. (In one of them, Anna, who did not understand the significance of this moment, smiled prettily while her big sister literally beams!) After a couple of licks, Anna returned to the swings. Kara, on the other hand, wanted to save the treat, so while she took a few turns on the slide, I, the dedicated Marmee, volunteered to lick the drips until I couldn't stand it any more and announced, "Take one last taste, and then I'm throwing it away."

A few weeks later when we returned for Lydia's birth, Grandpa took Anna and Kara back to the park, where they had a great time swinging , sliding, and skipping rocks on the lake. It was a fun afternoon with only one problem: Kara could not understand why the ice cream man didn't stop by for her!

A Grammar Lesson

2008-08-17T20:50:00.005-05:00

One of the drawbacks to being an English teacher is that people think I grade their emails or even their conversations. I assure them I do not carry a red pen in my pocket, and now that I have officially left public education, I mention that I've retired the pen. I never want to embarrass someone by pointing out a grammatical mistake, nor do I want people to avoid writing me or talking to me for fear I will judge their grammar! I've seen enough of my own mechanical errors to remain humble.

Having said all that (and truly meaning it!) I am about to risk my reputation by addressing the misuse of I and me. It drives me so nuts I am compelled to blog about it! (Also, I have to write for 10 minutes,)

In elementary school, teachers correct children's "Me and my sister went to the store," by restating it correctly: "My sister and I." By the time that child reaches high school, he/she has morphed that correction into a new rule: "Don't use me."

Thus, we have sentences like this one: My friend gave movie tickets to my wife and I. or She called my wife and I. Would you say, "My friend gave a gift to I?" or "She called I?" Of course not!

So, without boring you with definitions of prepositional phrases, direct objects, and nominative/objective case, I encourage anyone who reads this simply to restate the sentence by using only I or me.

Me and my wife went to the movie. = I went to the movie.
My friend gave movie tickets to my wife and I. = My friend gave movie tickets to me.
She called my wife and I. = She called me.

There! Now I feel better!

Same Song -- Tenth Verse

2008-08-16T20:27:00.010-05:00

I've been working with a young writer through email these past few months. I LOVE our exchange but she is frustrated by what she sees as her slow progress in turning that writer's corner -- you know the one if you are a writer -- it looks differently for each individual.

For her, right now, it is delving into a creative nonfiction piece, fleshing out the description of her family dynamics, using details to evoke an emotional response from the reader.

For me, it involves writing an interesting short story. Or creating a poem that is framed in the abstract more than the concrete -- its text calling for a wide range of interpretations. Or a humorous creative nonfiction.

Anyway, in encouraging her this evening, I typed the words just write, and I once again reminded that I need to take my own advice.

It is so easy to read Literary Mama submissions or a piece from my writing group and make suggestions to them for revision. It is quite another to sit down and write something of my own.

So, world (or at least to the five people who read my blog) I am committing to writing for at least 10 minutes a day. If I end up writing longer, fine, but 10 minutes is a sensible guideline, considering how I am an all-or-nothing type of thinker. I might post that writing here; I might not. I have also set a goal to have 100 blog posts by Halloween. Having begun this blog in January, '07, I have a grand total of 69 posts. My friend Daphne, who began her blog five months after I did, celebrated her 100th post exactly one year later. I'm slow, but now I'm determined!

I am going to write! Someone please hold me accountable! :)

55 Things Meme

2008-08-09T09:25:00.006-05:00

I came across this meme at Caroline's blog. Memes are great for generating ideas and getting to know friends better (Even long-time friends I see every week -- it's amazing the things we still don't know about each other!) I tag anyone who wants to explore through a meme.

1. Spell my name as it sounds: (I'm going with my last name here because it is often butchered.)
muh (rhymes with "duh") ran Most people stumble over it because it looks so much like moron, and they seem hestitant to offend me -- except for immature students who through the years have accidentally on purpose pronounced it incorrectly!

2. Am I a worrier? Sometimes, but not usually. When I'm worried about something, I pray.

3. What’s my favorite CD? I don't have one.

4. Favorite colour(s)? Pink!

5. Does my home have an attic? Yes, we have a pull-down door in our garage. I, however, have never been in our attic. My husband stores business-related items there. I would love to browse thorough an attic filled with someone's wonderful things.

6. Have I ever been to Canada? Yes, Montreal, Toronto, Calgary and Banff.

7. Have I ever gone fishing? Yes. When I was a child, my Grandpa and Grandma Fizer (maternal side) took my sister and me fishing many times. I never caught anything worth keeping, unlike my grandma who could put the hook in the water and snag a fish within seconds. I graduated from a pole to a reel and loved the motion of flicking back and releasing the line.

8. Have I ever seen a celebrity? Yes. American Idol 2008 David Cook

9. Have I ever been on a motorcycle? Yes. My husband (then boyfriend) and I took a sorority sister's out for a spin one afternoon.

10. How much money do I have on me right now? In my purse, I have about $40.

11. How many cars have I owned? Eight -- 2 Plymouths, 1 Ford Probe, 1 Datsun, 1 Nissan, 1 Cutlass, 2 Chevrolet Monte Carlos (one of which I have now)

12. How many jobs have I had? I have had 5 positions: unit secretary (at the nurses' station in a hospital, toll booth attendant (on the bridge over the St. John River in Jacksonville, Florida), librarian, teacher (in 4 different school districts) and teacher consultant.

13. How tall am I? 5'5"

14. Last person to call me: Katie, director of the Greater Kansas City Writing Project

15. Last thing I yelled out loud: "Jim, I made oatmeal!"

16. Last person I was in a car with: my husband

17. Last time I ate at McDonald’s: about two weeks ago -- I had a craving for their french fries.

18. Last thing I bought: some groceries, mostly fruit

19. Last person I saw: Jim on his way out to run errands

20. Last time I cried: This week when discussing sexual abuse with some friends (a heavy conversation).

21. Last time I laughed: This morning with Jim

22. What is the temperature outside? 71F. Wow! What a nice respite from triple digits!

23. What time of the day did I get married? evening

24. What did I do two nights ago? Rode along with Jim when he made a business-related delivery.

25. Who’s birthday is coming up next? Mine, acutally, September 5

26. What time did I go to bed last night? 12:30.

27. What was the first thing I thought this morning? "What time is it?"

28. What are my plans for this weekend? Attend a wedding this afternoon, go to church, go to my husband's end-of-the-year baseball-team picnic

29. Lemonade or iced tea? Either -- only if the lemonade is homemade, not something from a powdered mix.

30. What do I dislike at this moment? My body -- too pudgy.

31. What did I dream about last night? I can't remember exactly -- something related to teaching

32. What’s the last TV show I watched? Sex and City -- in reruns on TNT

33. What is my favorite piece of jewelry? A necklace with a big synthetic pink stone

34. Am I a dancer? in my kitchen Actually, Jim and I like to swing dance, but we seldom have a chance to dance.

35. Have I ever cut my own hair? All the time!

36. What is my favorite treat? Brownies with icing and nuts sprinkled on top

37. How many piercings/tattoos do I have? Pierced ears.

38. Where’s my favorite place to be? home or any quiet cafe with my friends Dottie and Betty Jo (Their company is comfortable, yet reviving!)

39. Is there someone I haven’t seen in a while and miss? Yes, my friend Betty Jo moved to Kentucky

40. Who was the last text I sent to? Patrick, about a week ago. I don't remember what wrote -- the process is such a slow one!

41. Do I care what strangers think about me? not really -- but probably sometimes

42. Last person I talked to on Instant Messenger: Jeff, over a year ago. When re-installing programs after a computer crash, I never got around to Yahoo! Instant Messenger. We have Skype now and use it more.

43. Last person to make me cry: something I saw on TV

44. Who can I tell anything to? God

45. What am I doing tomorrow? See #28 above.

46. Do I have alcohol in my home? Wine and whiskey -- the wine is for dinner parties (which I seldom have) the whiskey is from Ireland and the Jack Daniels distillery in Tennessee; the bottles have not been opened.

47. Do I like ketchup? Sure -- always with french fries

48. Do I think I will be on a vacation this summer? This summer my only vacation was traveling to Shelbyville, Tennessee, with my husband's baseball team. The women spent one afternoon in Franklin, one of my favorite places, eating lunch at Merridee's Breadbasket on the Franklin Square -- I highly recommend it!

49. What colour is my master bathroom? beige walls, white porcelian, sage green and pink accessories

50. Do I wear a bikini at the beach? not since I was in college!

51. Have I ever been to the Grand Canyon? Yes

52. What is my favorite fruit? I love all fruit -- except mango

53. What did I really want to do today? Same as Caroline! Sleep in. Stay in bed a long time after I woke up, reading. (It's a cool, cloudy day!)

54. Am I always cold? Not always, but often. I carry a jacket wherever I go, just in case.

55. Does it annoy me when someone says they’ll call or text, but don’t? Only if their call/text was about something I needed to know in regard to setting an appointment, finishing an article, etc.

Stranger in the Night

2008-07-31T22:36:00.007-05:00

Recently I traveled with my husband's baseball team (He coaches 17 and 18 year olds.) to Tennessee for a tournament. We arrived in Nashville in the afternoon and spent our first evening at the Wild Horse Saloon (which sounds like a terrible place to take a group of adolsecents!) a popular tourist destination with a huge dance floor, performance stage, line-dance lessons, and lots of good food -- really a family atmosphere.

At the end of the night while waiting for our groups' cars to pick us up, another coach's wife and I noticed this young man who was dressed in gangsta style (baggy shorts, basketball jersey, lots of bling bling, shaved hair) who had Jesus in a crown of thorns tattooed on the back of his head and another tattoo on the top of his head that we couldn't see. He was smoking a cigarette and talking non-stop to the saloon's security guard who was politely nodding and smiling.

I couldn't take my eyes off that tattoo and became so curious, I had to talk to him. So, I (little Miss Priss, straight-as-an-arr0w conservative) interrupted the one-sided conversation and asked him why he had that Jesus tattoo. He told me he was a Christian and then revealed the outside of his arms which were tattooed with "Amazing Grace."

He was pretty amazed that I had been bold enough to approach him and even more surprised when I told him that I was also a Christian. Then he asked me a question "Do you think it is okay not to attend church?" I could tell from his tone and expression that mainstream congregations (who look like me) had probably hurt him, but I didn't have time to answer, as my ride pulled to the curb. I really wanted to finish our conversation and was tempted to ask the driver of the van to cruise around the block a couple of times. But not wanting to be inconsiderate, I, instead, asked him if he had a business card. He didn't, and I didn't, so I hugged him goodbye. He thanked me for talking to him and expressed how encouraged he was by my friendliness.

I have thought about him several times and expressed regret to friends at home that I now have no way to reach him. BUT they have reminded me that God has a way -- so I pray that any wounds he may have suffered at the hands of Christians who were perhaps self-righteous and judgmental will be softened by the happy memory of our chance encounter.

Still, I would really like to talk to him again because I forgot to ask him about the tattoo on the top of his head!

Lydia Suzanne

2008-07-03T19:56:00.011-05:00

It has been a month since Lydia Suzanne made her appearance at 2 a.m. on May 30th. Dark complected with lots of dark hair, she looks like her big sisters, especially Kara.

Jeff and Krista have always thought carefully about choosing their children's names. Lydia is mentioned in Acts 16:14-15 as a woman whose heart was opened when Paul shared the good news of Jesus Christ. She was baptized and invited Paul and his fellow travelers to stay in her home while they were in Thyatira.

Suzanne is Krista's and her mother's middle name, and as Kara has my mother's and my middle name of Jean, I love that the tradition has been carried on for Krista's side of the family.

We are so blessed to have three beautiful granddaughters and look forward to getting to know Lydia!

He Won!

2008-05-21T22:35:00.007-05:00

Congratulations, David!

David Cook Comes Home

2008-05-17T21:26:00.017-05:00

American Idol contestant David Cook's homecoming last Friday turned out to be one of the most memorable of my life. I reveled in my students successes and triumphs while I was teaching, but seeing David achieve his dream on a national level has given me immeasurable joy!

I haven't seen David since he was a sophomore or junior in college, though I have thought of him from time to time (as I do many of my students), wondering how his band (whose other members were also my students) was doing. Being David's teacher was a privilege and joy -- He was a solid, responsible student -- quite personable and tremendously talented. American Idol aside, David is a student I will never forget.

Part of Friday's enjoyment was seeing the culmination of all the excitement and buzz his AI success has brought to Blue Springs. Tuesdays nights a local bar and grill has held watch parties for about the last six weeks. It is a noisy crowd until our hometown boy performs, and the judges critique him. The place erupts in cheers after David sings and more cheers or boos follow, depending on what the judges have to say. At 8:00, cell phones flipped open, we begin voting. (Once I'm home, I use my cell phone and our house phone to get in as many votes as possible! My husband used the word possessed!)

On Wednesdays, conversations at the grocery store, the doctor's office, the beauty shop center on David's performance and how many times a person voted. People of all ages sport David Cook t-shirts, which draw remarks and questions: "Do you vote?" "Are you related to David?" "Look, Mom, a David Cook shirt!" Even wearing my shirt while out of town last weekend solicited comments: "He's my favorite!" "I vote for him every week." "I hope he wins!"

The local Fox channel followed David with cameras all day. He was stunned by the crowd that gathered in downtown Kansas City for a mini-concert, but he was emotionally overwhelmed at the 10,000+ fans who welcomed him home during a parade and another mini-concert at Blue Springs South High School's football stadium.

These past weeks I've prayed for David, for as fun as this is, he's also been thrust into the limelight and a celebrity culture that offers many temptations and few guidelines on how to handle them. His older brother is ill with cancer, and for David to be away from home right now offers its own challenges. I've prayed for his family as they deal with the excitement of David's success and the battle against Adam's cancer. I've prayed that someone will help David stay grounded and humble, but at the same time, he will enjoy this great opportunity.

Listening to him on television and in person reassured me; he is still the David I loved like a son. Asked to sing the National Anthem at the Royals' game Friday evening, he declined when he learned that doing so would bump a middle school choir's opportunity to perform the song. Asked what was the best gift he'd received in the past weeks, David said it was a letter and picture from an elementary teacher who uses video of his performances in lessons for her special needs students. She sent a picture of her students who had written "give back" on their palms, following David's example during a performance to remind the audience to donate to "Idol Gives Back." That he could be a motivation to these students humbled him.

He shook hands, gave hugs, posed for pictures, and signed autographs, humbly thanking all those who support him, acknowledging "I 'owe you guys the world.'" AI planned a surprise visit to David's elementary music teacher's classroom. The kids crowded around him as he spread his arms and welcomed them all to draw closer.

It was a picture in Saturday's paper of David and Mrs. Gentry in a heartfelt embrace that evoked the strongest emotion of all. I don't know Mrs. Gentry, but as a teacher, I know how satisfying and rewarding it is to see a student succeed and to be acknowledged and remembered by a student, by someone who has become a star -- an American Idol -- well, that just topped off the whole experience.

Pictures from http://forums.popphoto.com/camera/board/message?board.id=6&message.id=196127

Button, Button, Who Has the Button?

2008-05-05T21:09:00.004-05:00

With one small, pink button, Kara and I enjoyed hours of entertainment during my visit in April.

First, we played "I Spy." One of us hid the button while the other one closed her eyes. Then as we moved about the room, the hider would direct us with hints: "You're very cold." told the seeker to move to another part of the room. "You're getting warm." let us know we were headed in the right direction. "You're hot!" tipped us off to exactly where the button was!

We tried to play "Button, Button, Who Has the Button" with Mama and Daddy, but they could only play a few rounds of passing (or not) from person to person before becoming occupied with making dinner or changing a diaper, so Kara and I devised our own version.

We would put the button behind our backs and place the button inside a closed fist. Then placing our closed hands in front of us, we waited while the other guessed which hand had the button. If guessed correctly, the guesser earned a point. If we fooled the other, the button holder earned a point.

Even though I observed, Kara almost always placed the button in her left hand, and she almost always guessed the button was in my right hand, she somehow beat me 11 games to 1. Every guess was accompanied with a giggle and the repeated question, "How many points do I have now?"

I'm so thankful for the joy found in simple things, of making memories, of being Marmee.

6 Things Meme

2008-05-02T17:48:00.011-05:00

Caroline tagged me for a meme, which I always enjoy doing.

Here are the meme rules:
1. link to the person who tagged you.
2. post the rules.
3. write six things about yourself.
4. tag six people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs.
5. Let them know they've been tagged by leaving a comment on their sites.
6. Let your tagger know when your entry is up.

Following Caroline's line of thinking. . . Six things on my mind today.

1. I don't like change, and in the coming weeks, I will be facing a lot of it! At the end of June, a dear, long-time friend is moving to Kentucky; my pastor and his wife are moving to a different church almost in Missouri's boot heel (seven hours away); and a colleague/friend from the writing project is moving to California! BUT one good change is the addition of a granddaughter to our family at the end of May -- I pray for her safe delivery.

2. Identity theft: ABC news is running a series on this topic, and I'm about ready to close every online account, cut up my credit cards, and find a identity protection service. The reason for my paranoia is that several months ago I received a phishing email that looked like it was from Pay Pal, and I stupidly replied to it, providing some personal information. Also, recently, I received a writing submission that came to my personal address, and the sender's contact info was sketchy, so I did not answer it. I feel like my identity has been compromised. It creeps me out!

3. David Cook, one of the top four contestants on American Idol, was my student in creative writing and American literature. He also played baseball for my husband's American Legion summer team. It has been so fun to watch him succeed on AI and have his dream come true. I get mad at Simon and people on community boards who label him as arrogant. He's one of the most talented and amiable people I know! More on him later!

4. My husband is mowing the lawn right now on a riding lawn mower he bought for me! Isn't he sweet? You see, I like to mow the lawn, but I can't use a walking mower because it aggravates problems in my neck and shoulders. Our new home has a bigger yard, which justifies a riding mower. The problem? I have not used it once! I always have some excuse -- this is the summer though -- I'll report back when it happens.

5. Here's another thing I have procrastinated doing: painting some iron wagon wheels that are set into the ground by our front porch. They need painting -- just ask my mother -- she tells me that every time she and Dad come over. In 2005, I told her I'd have them painted by the end of the year . . . It's always too windy, too cold, too hot, too wet, too something . . . Here's a picture. You can't see the chipped paint and rust because of the snow.

6. I look like a Weeble! Twenty pounds has settled around my stomach and my hips! It is not a pretty picture, but I'm dedicated to lose this weight in the next few months. More on that later! Here's a picture of a Weeble in case you are too young to remember the '60s.

I tag Joyce.

What Punctuation Mark Are You?

2008-03-29T13:03:00.005-06:00

I am always looking for fun grammar ideas, so when I found this quiz at Fertile Ground, I could not resist taking it!

"You are elegant, understated, and sublte in your communication. You're very smart (and you know it), but you don't often showcase your brillance. Instead, you carefully construtct your arguments, ideas, and theories until they are bulletproof. You see your words as an expression of yourself, and you are careful not to waste them. Your friends see you as enlightened, logical, and shrewd. (But what you're saying often goes right over their heads.) You excel in the Arts. You get along best with the colon.

What Punctuation Mark Are You?

It Is Finished

2008-03-23T21:45:00.004-06:00

According to John's account of the resurrection, Mary Magdalene told Peter and John the tomb was empty. They, then, ran to see for themselves. John 20:6b-7 says, "He (Peter) saw the strips of linen as well as the burial cloth that had been around Jesus' head. The cloth was folded by itself, separate from the linen."

In a Beth Moore Bible study several years ago, I learned that during Jesus' time, it was customary for a carpenter to fold his work cloth and leave it on the finished piece, so the one who had hired him would know the work was finished.

Did Peter remember Jesus' last words on the cross? "It is finished." (John 19:30)

If so, this folded cloth would have sent them a clear message, and it provides a clear message for us today. Jesus is everything we need Him to be because He has done all He needs to do for us.

Happy Resurrection Day!

Lost Glove -- Lost Sheep

2008-03-09T16:32:00.007-06:00

I have a bad habit of putting my gloves in my lap after the car warms. When I get out of the car, the gloves drop onto the ground unnoticed. Sometimes I'm fortunate to find them on the ground by my car when I return to it. Other times, not so lucky --

I lost a pair of leather gloves in Milwaukee at an NCTE convention. My sister had driven from Chicago to have dinner with me and my friends, and upon returning to the hotel, she dropped us off at the door. In a hurry to say our goodbyes, I did not miss my gloves until the next morning.

Another time Jim dropped me off at home before going on to an appointment. When he returned, the car lights illuminated one glove. I was so distressed about the missing glove --black leather with fur trim, a Christmas gift from a student who had no idea I had just lost a pair --that Jim retraced his drive and found it in the gutter of a nearby street. Apparently, it had landed on his Explorer's running board and fell off when he turned the corner. It was wet and cold, but I tenderly "nursed" it back to its original condition, and I still have the pair.

This week I lost another leather glove while out running errands. (I never lose the Big Lots-three-pair-for-$1 kind!) It was 7:00 p.m. when I noticed. What a disappointment, especially since I've been remembering to lay the gloves in the passenger seat or to put them back on before I get out of the car.

I had been all over the city -- Brookside on Kansas City's southside and several places closer to home. Tired and late in getting to my parents' house, I decided to take the time to return to my parking spots at a gas station, the church, and my chiropractor's office. No glove! A trip to Brookside was out of the question, so I resigned myself to the fact that I was gloveless once again. Then as I turned my car to head out of the last lot, my eye fell upon my missing glove. Instead of falling from my lap, it had fallen from my pocket when I retrieved my car keys upon leaving the office. I was soooo happy -- so relieved!

I thought of this glove while reading Matthew 18:12-14. Jesus, talking about how precious children are to God, speaks of a sheperd who will leave ninety-nine sheep on a hill to seek one lost sheep. If he finds it, "he is happier about that one sheep than about the ninety-nine that did not wander off."

As happy as I was to find that glove, God's happiness in having a person come to Him through the love of His Son is infinitely greater than my delight. I'm grateful that He uses the common things of life to remind me of His unending compassion.

In Honor of the Lunar Eclipse

2008-02-20T21:14:00.019-06:00

To walk outside and discover moonlight fills the sky always fills me with serendipity, as if God says, "I have something for you!" And I, as though I have never seen the moon before, look up and smile in rapt wonder.

When I was a little girl, one October evening, squeezed between my mom and my grandma in the front seat of a car, I watched a gargantuan golden orb rise over the skyline. I don't think the moon could have possible have been as large as I remember it.

Flying into New Orleans above a cloud cover, I saw a full moon reflected on the clouds, creating a light show that rivaled the twinkling city lights of the Big Easy as we descended.

Driving to Louisville one evening, I watched the moon and the clouds play a celestial game of musical chairs, creating the most awesome study of light and shadow. I video taped some footage. (That, unfortunately, was accidentally erased.) From KC to Louisville is about a 7.5 hour drive -- sometimes boring -- but that night the time zoomed past.

One winter evening, a full moon shone upon the frozen water of Blue Springs Lake, casting everything in silver. A man-made lake, the east portion of it has dead trees rising above the water, which cast eerie shadows upon the silvery frost.

Nestled just so along the tree line, a new moon was barely visible in the darkening dusk, but at its bottom was the slenderest sliver of orange.

Time Flies

2008-02-18T19:51:00.006-06:00

I have not posted here for almost a month. I was so full of ideas back in January -- felt like I had something to say everyday -- sometimes more than one thing to say.

Then life happened: substituting high school English/Spanish (¡Olé!) for two weeks, finishing a newsletter, dealing with a crashed hard drive. (Both mine, and my computer's!) I am so out of condition to put in an eight-hour day, to be on my feet ninety percent of that time, to keep up with the flurry of activity that surrounds teenagers.

I taught an American Romantic unit, covering some of my favorites: Thoreau, Longfellow, and Whitman. Spanish classes watched cultural videos, preparing for a language arts fair project. Fortunately, the Spanish teacher next door had a student teacher who helped the students check their workbook assignments. All went well, and I enjoyed the students.

Still, Thursday morning, I heard those long-familiar, poetic words: "Snow Day!" I have never appreciated a day off so much!

A month later, the newspaper has gone to the printer, and the hard drives in question have been restored. Here's hoping the blogging ideas begin rolling in.

For Buddy

2008-01-20T23:16:00.001-06:00

Today my husband and I went to the funeral of a former student who lives in a community about an hour south of Kansas City. He was one of our favorites, but time has slipped past us, often at break-neck speeds, and it has been years since Jim or I had seen or spoken with him.

I was sorrowed when I heard the news but unprepared for the grief I felt when I arrived at the funeral home. He was a young man -- only 46 -- with two grown sons and grandchildren. Way too young to die.

Seeing his sisters (whom we also taught) and other former students brought a flood of memories: Friday night football games, taco parties on Super Bowl Sundays, taking the freshman class to Worlds of Fun, Jim's driving a school bus to Colorado on the senior trip, working on the school newspaper.

Jim and I left the school district and moved to Kansas City after Buddy's senior year. We kept in touch regularly at first, but then job demands and our children's activities kept us busy, drawing us away from these special people who had been such a big part of our lives.

The last time I saw Buddy was at a football game in a Kansas City suburb. I don't remember why we were there or what teams were playing, but I do remember a tap on the shoulder, and I turned around to see a bald-headed man grinning from ear to ear. For a moment it didn't register, then I recognized the once curly-headed boy I'd known was standing before me. I cried, "Buddy!" and gave him the biggest hug.

I wish he had been there today, so I could have hugged him one last time.

Overload

2008-01-15T19:44:00.002-06:00

This is how I feel!

The Rest of the Story

2008-01-06T20:02:00.002-06:00

In several posts lately, I have mentioned my grandson's stillbirth, but I have been remiss in not telling "the rest of the story."

Brock would have been five this past November, and I often think of him, but God has been good to me and has blessed me in many ways:

with a strong support group at my church and former school and across the world through my online writing class and Literary Mama
with two beautiful granddaughters who have given my whole family great pleasure
with a sweet, generous husband who loves and supports me and works hard to provide for his family
with two handsome sons who have become responsible, personable young men
with a wonderful daughter-in-law whom I love and value greatly
with the greatest sister in the whole world Oh! How we laugh!
with my parents who have enjoyed longevity of life and reasonably good health
with Jesus who is my Lord, Savior, and Friend
with His Word to comfort and guide me.

Though life can be hard, God is always good. So, I just want to set the record straight. I am at peace and filled with joy.

Full of Smiles

2008-01-05T19:48:00.004-06:00

Recently my colleague and dear friend Michael described me as being "full of smiles." I do love to laugh, and since my last few posts have been on the sober side, I thought to lighten things up, which led me to think of my niece's November wedding.

Beth is an amazing young woman, and she married a great guy Brian Bell. I love their alliterative names so much I wrote their first and last names on their Christmas gift tags!

The wedding and the reception were both elegant and lovely. Tiny white lights woven through ficus trees made the reception room twinkle with the magic of a fairy tale.

Here is my favorite video clip from the weekend! While the quality is not the best, it's good enough to remind me why I'm full of smiles.

Writing Ironies

2008-01-03T21:40:00.002-06:00

This week my essay A Kite in November about my grandson's stillbirth is among the writings featured as Literary Mama's 2007 Favorites.

When it was posted in November, a friend complimented me, saying, "You must be proud." I was pleased to be published at a website like LM because I know the staff's integrity and expectations of excellence. But proud -- no -- that does not describe how I feel.

Even now, to be included as a favorite, I don't feel proud. I am touched that my colleagues think highly of my piece. These are writers who have PhD. after their names. They have published books! They have agents! These women give me something to aspire to, as writers, mothers, and women, and while I am proud to be associated with such a fine organization, recognition for this particular writing evoked a different emotion.

If I had written about something less intense, some circumstance with a happy ending, I image the elation and euphoria of being published would have me smiling for days. But there is an entirely different feeling related to this. This experience called to be written to offer hope to others, to give a voice to the sorrow, to experience the catharsis, to honor my grandson and his parents.

While I'm glad to be recognized, I know that to write deeply, we write of our losses, yet we'd most gladly escape the losses that provide opportunity to write deeply.

There in lies the irony of writing.

New Year, New Look

2008-01-03T00:52:00.002-06:00

I love pink. It makes me happy, and being one of my most flattering colors, it makes me look happy. Sometimes I have considered making it my signature color -- become the next Carolina Herrera -- make pink the new black. (Except I think someone else thought of that a couple of seasons ago.)

Creating this blog, I chose a template that reflected my love of pink. I was never completely happy with it, but hey -- it was pink! No matter it was loud -- maybe even startling! It began to remind me of Pepto Bismol. Not exactly what the product a writer cares to be associated with.

So, with a new year, I've created a new look. A soft, calming green.

I hope it doesn't put anyone to . . . ZZZZ.

Postscript: Since making these changes, Blogspot has developed more template choices. Thus, I have returned to my favorite pink! Hopefully, in a tone more pleasing the PB.

It Came Upon a Midnight Clear

2008-01-01T18:48:00.001-06:00

The Christmas following my grandson's stillbirth was a difficult one -- I could not concentrate during sermons, Sunday school lessons, department meetings, or any group gathering. Everyone sounded like the teacher in Charlie Brown cartoons: "Wah, wah, wah, wah, wah." But music cut through the cloud that enveloped me, and in that, I came to regard "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear" as my favorite carol.

It came upon the midnight clear,
That glorious song of old,
From angels bending near the earth,
To touch their harps of gold:
"Peace on the earth, goodwill to men
From heaven's all gracious King!"
The world in solemn stillness lay
To hear the angels sing.

O ye beneath life's crushing load,
Whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps and slow;
Look now, for glad and golden hours
Come swiftly on the wing;
Oh rest beside the weary road
And hear the angels sing.

Through the lyrics, I sensed God's call to rest and marveled at His gracious provision of words I could hear -- words that offered compassion and mercy, warmth and sympathy, kindness and encouragement.

Now during Christmas, I look forward to singing this carol that reminds me of God's faithfulness, and I pray that those whose forms bend low beneath life's crushing blows will also find comfort in its message.

Merry Christmas

2007-12-25T14:15:00.001-06:00

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Ordinary People

2007-12-23T22:51:00.006-06:00

A Christmas song recorded by 4 Him keeps running through my mind. The lyrics are written in Joseph's point of view:

"Why me (why me), I'm just a simple man of trade?
Why her, she's just an ordinary girl (ordinary girl)
Now, I'm not one to second guess what angel's have to say,
But this is such a strange way to save the world."

This song reminds me that God used ordinary people and the power of the Holy Spirit in this most extraordinary birth of the Savior, Emmanuel -- God with us. The people mentioned in Christmas account of Matthew and Luke were the first to have a personal encounter with Jesus! WOW! But an even bigger WOW is that Jesus still desires a personal encounter with ordinary people in the world today, and not just an encounter, but an intimate relationship.

After the shepherds heard and saw the angelic host in the night sky, they ran to find Him and along the way they told everyone what the angels had said about this child. Now, the Bible doesn't say so, but knowing human nature, I imagine a lot of the people who heard the shepherds' story also ran to the stable. Wouldn't you have? I would -- I'm from the Show-Me state, and I would want/need to see things with my own eyes!

In all the commotion, Luke 2:19 states, "Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart." That is my prayer. Amid the holiday mayhem, may Mary be our example and may God show you something new and fresh as you celebrate Christmas this week.

First Snow

2007-12-16T19:28:00.003-06:00

This week brought winter's first snow, reminding me of two favorite poems.

Snowflakes by Linda Copp

Snowflakes spill from heaven's hand

Lovely and chaste as smooth white sand.

A veil of wonder laced in light,

Fall gently on a winter's night.

Graceful beauty raining down

Giving magic to the lifeless ground.

Each snowflake like a falling star,

Smiling beauty that's spun afar.

Snowflakes spill from heaven's hand,

Lovely and chaste as smooth white sand.

'Til earth is dressed in a robe of white

Unspoken poem the hush of night.

Velvet Shoes by Elinor Wylie

Let us walk in the white snow

In a soundless space;
With footsteps quiet and slow,
At a tranquil pace,
Under veils of lace.

I shall go shod in silk,

You in wool

White as white cow's milk,

More beautiful

Than the breast of a gull.

We shall walk through the still town

In a windless peace;

We shall step upon white down,
Upon silver fleece
Softer than these.

We shall walk in velvet shoes;
Wherever we go
Silence falls like dews
On white silence below.
We shall walk in the snow.

Holding Hands with God

2007-12-09T20:12:00.001-06:00

Isaiah 41: 13 -- "For I the Lord your God will hold your right hand, saying to you, Fear not; I will help you."

The Almighty whose hands hold the universe wants to hold hands with me -- me! (And you!)

I thank Kay who is in my Bible Study Fellowship small group for opening my eyes to this, as she shared her commitment to put her hand in the hand of God.

I pray to do the same -- to trust my Heavenly Father who can gently, faithfully, and confidently guide me through every circumstance of my life.

Will you hold hands with God today?

Long Distant Friends

2007-11-07T15:56:00.001-06:00

Friends are one of life's greatest treasures, and I'm blessed by how God has enlarged the circle of friendship in my life.

When I began working with Literary Mama, I never thought about gaining friends. But here I am today with a group of friends that I've never seen in person. Yet, I know they are reliable and trustworthy -- just as the women who were in my online writing classes -- another group I did not anticipate being so connected to.

Sometimes I wonder whether we would have become friends if we knew one another in real time. Our email communications and writing group messages are personal, but we have never discussed politics and religion -- two potentially polarizing topics. Yet, for me it does not matter. I love them and care about them unconditionally and hope someday we will have the chance to travel to a chosen destination and spend a few days together. (Preferably in Paris, where one of them lives) :)

Grace

2007-10-30T20:12:00.001-06:00

I turned my cart towards the fifteen-items-or-less checkout line and stopped short when I noticed the woman in front of me had a full cart -- well over 15 items! Three, five, ten, twelve, seventeen. . . I stopped counting and wondered, Lady, can't you count? Ready to get home after a long day, I swung my cart into the adjacent line.

Waiting for the person ahead of me to pay his bill, I watched as she unloaded her cart --one item at a time. She is someone's grandma, I thought, as I admired her silver hair and noticed her sensible shoes and unhurried pace. She probably didn't even see the sign.

The sales clerk glanced at the cart, then at the sign, then caught my eye and smiled. He shook his head a little, but spoke kindly to the woman as he scanned her items. His actions more gracious than my impatient thoughts.

I stopped at the end of his checkout stand and told him, "You are a gracious gentleman, and you have blessed my day." He simply smiled again and said, "Thanks."

A Book Meme

2007-10-19T21:52:00.002-05:00

Here I was this evening, surfing through blogs of some of my favorite writers, clicking on links at their sites, when I came upon several memes. I sat here wishing I knew more bloggers, wishing someone would tag me for a meme, when I happened to catch my name in the tag of Susan Ito's book meme and Caroline's writing meme.

Well, what a serendipity! Of course, anyone can complete a meme, but there is some fun in being tagged. Since books and writing are my favorite things, I'm happy to participate!

1. Hardcover or paperback, and why?
I buy both, but I'm willing to pay for a hardcover only if I have read the book and loved it. Then I want a copy for myself. The one and only book I have ever bought in hardcover unread is Cold Mountain by Charles Frazier; fortunately, I loved it.

2. If I were to own a book shop I would call it…
Marmee's Corner -- What else?

3. My favorite quote from a book (mention the title) is…
from To Kill a Mockingbird: "Atticus was right. One time he said you never really know a man until you stand in his shoes and walk around in them. Just standing on the the Radley porch was enough." (There is a lot more to quote from that book!)

4. The author (alive or deceased) I would love to have lunch with would be ….
Harper Lee. Some have criticized that she is a one-book wonder, but if I wrote one book the caliber of her novel, I'd die a contented writer.

5. If I was going to a deserted island and could only bring one book, except from the SAS survival guide, it would be…
the Bible. No matter how many times I read it, there is always something fresh and new that I have never seen before. Or the Holy Spirit will show me a new application for my life. There is no novel or non-fiction book that inspires and sustains me as God's Word, and no matter where I am, I am in need of His sustenance.

6. I would love someone to invent a bookish gadget that….
was a book light with a battery and bulb that would last for an extended period of time. I love to read in bed after my husband is asleep, and all the book lights I've tried suck up battery energy so quickly.

7. The smell of an old book reminds me of….
my grandma's house. She had a library off the living room. It contained bookcase with glass doors against one wall. It was a small collection of books, but my sister and I loved to open those doors and play school with those books. I especially liked the Big Little Books and Puss and Boots.

8. If I could be the lead character in a book (mention the title), it would be….
Scout Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee.

9. The most overestimated book of all times is….
Bridges of Madison County (It is not even worth a hot link!) . Everyone was so ga ga over that book, but I thought the the main character Francesca had absolutely no reason to commit adultery when she had a loving husband who worked hard to give her a good life. The book also had the most sappy lines -- something about the male character being a peregrine. Barf!

10. I hate it when a book….
is full of vulgarities and unnecessary graphic language. I don't mind controversial subject matter that is presented in a thoughtful, reasonable way, but to pepper the dialogue with excessive profanity annoys me. I don't want those words or images running through my mind.

I tag Daphne.

Rain, Rain, Go Away

2007-10-17T21:25:00.000-05:00

This morning looked promising. Sunlight backdropped a bank of gray clouds on the horizon, but those clouds billowed, growing into clumsy giants that bumped and thumped their way across the sky. Then the heavens opened.

A torrential downpour would turn to a mist then return to the torrential downpour. Noah came to mind.

Lucky me, my car battery decided to die on this most unpleasant day, and I spent most of the afternoon setting in my car, which was parked in a 20 minute loading zone of a University of Missouri at Kansas City (UMKC) parking lot. (One good thing about the rain -- campus police were not patroling and issuing tickets!)

I called our road service and reached a customer service rep in India. Within an hour two guys from Pop-A-Lock arrived in a mini-van but not before I had to leave my car and flag them down. Something about them looked helpless, and my impression was right. Though they tried to jump my battery, the engine refused to turn over, leading them to believe it was my starter. Since their mini van was not equipped to tow me, I had to call India a second time and arrange for a tow truck.

Before that arrived, my knight in shining armour appeared and stayed with me, so I would not have to ride home in the tow truck. Thankfully, the tow truck driver successfully re-charged the battery, and I was able to drive to my salon for a haircut appointment (the most worrisome problem of the day -- I desperately needed a trim.) Jim followed me to the salon, traded cars with me, and took my car to get a new battery.

Compared to others' problems, this was trivial, but I sure do hope the sun shines tomorrow.

Writing Is a (Re)treat

2007-10-10T21:58:00.000-05:00

The writing retreat was fabulous! It was so rewarding and invigorating to be with a group of people who love writing and are appreciative of having a day and a half set aside for their passion.

This year my co-facilitator and I did not have time to write. Instead of placing ourselves in a small group of peer responders (as we have in the past), we made ourselves available for one on one responding. Surprisingly, of 16 participants, probably half of them conferenced with us. When we planned this change, I wasn't sure how I felt about it. I wanted time to write, too. But in the end, it worked well. I did take a nonfiction piece I wrote in the parent-lit class and shared it during our read around.

Another change that I really liked was giving everyone a pad of post-it-notes. As each person read their pieces on Saturday evening, we all responded in writing. When everyone was finished, we passed out our notes. There was something special about receiving "mail" and doing this saved time, as we didn't make oral remarks. Now, each reader has a written record of his/her listeners' appreciation.

As great as all the activities were, I must confess the beds and bedding at the Westin Crown Center are almost as wonderful. The picture here doesn't really do them justice. Some day I'm going to book a room, order room service, rent movies and spend an entire 24 hours soaking in the ambiance.

Writing Retreat

2007-10-04T13:38:00.000-05:00

This weekend I am headed to the Westin at Crown Center -- a posh hotel connected to one of Kansas City's popular entertainment venues. We (my friend and co-facilitator) have been working hard to prepare for a writing retreat. We will be joined by 18 other teacher consultants with the Greater Kansas City Writing project.

This is the fifth annual retreat, and each one has been rewarding and invigorating as we set aside time to write and share our writing -- without any distractions of home or work begging for our attention. I'll fill in the details next week.

Happy Writing!

Sisters

2007-09-26T22:13:00.000-05:00

I am so blessed to have a sister whom I have adored since the minute she was born. Incredibly, at age two, I remember holding her on the way home from the hospital. (no car seats in those days) It's just a flash of an image -- a snapshot -- a rosebud pressed between the pages of my memories.

I'm doubly blessed to have two granddaughters, and I hope and pray that they will weather the inevitable childhood squabbles and grow up to be close friends and companions, talking about everything and nothing. Laughing about everything and nothing. Supporting one another, creating their own snapshots, pressing their own rosebuds between the pages of their lives.

So Long marmee's musings

2007-09-13T12:37:00.000-05:00

It has been a while since I have blogged at either this site or marmee's musings.

I have dozens of topics spinning in my head, but other demands and obligations detain my putting words to paper (or screen).

Part of the problem is keeping two blogs. I began marmee's musings to write about my faith experiences and spiritual matters. I began this site to write about everything else. But the truth is, faith and spiritual matters are such an intregal part of my life that I can't separate the two.

So, I'm not going to try anymore. I am closing marmee's musings (though I will keep it up for a while) and writing exclusively at here at Marmee's Corner. I like this title best because it is most reflective of the book Little Women and the character of Marmee in that novel, which I discussed in my first blog here.

My next goal: start writing!

True Confession

2007-08-13T08:22:00.000-05:00

The Literary Mamas have resurrected the blog page, and I am the first one up! I am both excited and nervous to be presented on a national, perhaps international scope. Now, I don't know how many hits my blogs may receive due to this announcement, but it staggers my mind to think of my humble blogs being advertised anywhere and duly motivates to blog more often here at Marmee's Corner.

Lately, I have posted weekly at marmee's musings but haven't written here since July 24! Why not? Because I'm busy? Partly. Because I'm lazy? Possibly. Because I fear failure? Most likely.

In the last year, I have become increasingly aware that perfectionism rules my writing life. I understand a first draft is messy, but instead of "just writing" (which is the mantra that inspired me to begin Marmee's Corner) and getting the whole thing down on paper, I revise while I draft. Of course, all writers do that to some extent, but I'm talking deep revision, as I go over and over words, phrases, sentences, paragraphs --Ad nauseam!

All or nothing is classic perfectionistic behavior: Because I struggle to write a complete draft, I don't write at all. I use busyness and fatigue as an excuse to avoid the keyboard. I broached this topic in my most recent online writing class' message board, and STILL have done little to overcome or change this pitiful behavior. (One area I have improved is the time I spend on my blog posts. That at least is a step.)

I'm not making any promises to make drastic changes, but if confession is good for the soul, then my soul is feelin' mighty fine!

8 Things About Me -- Meme

2007-07-24T15:25:00.000-05:00

My Literary Mama friend Caroline tagged me for this meme.

First, I am to publish the rules:

1. Let others know who tagged you.
2. Players start with 8 random facts about themselves.
3. Those who are tagged should post these rules and their 8 random facts.
4. Players should tag 8 other people and notify them they have been tagged.

Here goes

1. I'm addicted to the television show Lost -- though I may have to give it up for my own welfare. When one of the main characters (No spoilers here!) died at the end of this season, I just about went off the deep end of melancholy and morosity.

2. I know the Greek alphabet by heart -- when pledging a college sorority, I was required to learn it, and it has become one of those trivial things that just stuck. I also unwittingly memorized my first Spanish lesson, though some of it has faded over the years.

3. I detest peas, especially canned ones. My mom declares even as an infant, I would spit them out. Even though it is immature and impolite, I will pick them out of a casserole and leave them on my plate.

4. I also hate roller coasters -- never have liked them but rode them when I caved at peer pressure. However, now that I'm over 50, I will never ride one again, and there is NOTHING anyone can say that will compel me to change my mind.

5. The night sky -- moon, stars, and other celestial bodies -- fascinates me. I wish I had a telescope to better observe them. A serendipity of moving to our new home is that I have a clear view of the eastern horizon and can watch the moon rise in the frame of our office window.

6. One of my favorite childhood pastimes was playing school, and as long as I can remember, I wanted to be a teacher (or a beautician). By high school, I determined that was the grade level I was most suited for; the subject matter varied, depending on what my favorite teacher taught. Home economics, Spanish, history were some I considered before I found a perfect fit: English.

7. One of my favorite life memories is growing up on land that had once been my paternal grandparents' farm. We lived up the hill from Grandma Young, who had a great old farm house with two covered porches, a library, and a claw-footed bathtub. The pasture was my backyard, and there were so many things to explore: a dairy barn, horse barn, farrowing house, a pond and a creek. All of that is gone now; turned into a four-lane state highway, but still today, I often dream about Grandma's house and our old home.

8. Alas, the only bloggers I know are related to Literary Mama or were members of two online writing classes I recently participated in. From what I can tell, most have been tagged. None of my closest real-time friends have a blog, though a couple of people are in the thinking stage of beginning one. But here's who I tag:

3bridgeview
dreaming about water
readingwritingliving

Dancing with a Hibiscus

2007-07-22T14:35:00.003-05:00

Every year I buy a potted hibiscus with the hope that, at the worst, I won't kill it, and at the least, I can keep the leaves green.

Two years I actually brought a plant inside at the end of summer. One of those looked beautiful but close examination revealed dozens of spider mites, so I took it outside and left it exposed to the elements of a midwestern winter. Another year the plant, bursting with green foliage and blooms, gradually dropped leaf by leaf until only one healthy-looking sprig remained. Still, I was optimistic until my son, home from college, asked, "Mom, how's your stick doing?"

This year's plant sat on my front porch for about 24 hours before the first yellow leaf appeared. Hoping for a different outcome, I searched online tips and found a user friendly site: Hidden Valley Hibiscus, which listed these possible reasons for yellow leaves:

--Too Much Water (I did water it thoroughly when I brought it home because somewhere else I had read hibiscus like moist soil.)
--Not Enough Water (I stopped watering it altogether.)
--Too Hot (It's a tropical plant for crying out loud!)
--Too Cold ( I brought it inside a couple of evenings when the temperature dropped to an unseasonable level.)
--Too Much Direct Sunlight (I placed it on our covered porch, where it received about three hours of morning sun.)
--Too Little Sunlight (My mother, whose hibiscus sits in full sun and received five days worth of rain without having on yellow leaf -- suggested I move it, so I put it on the front porch step. There it did reward me with three beautiful blossoms before the yellow leaves returned!)
--Insects, Particularly Spider Mites (Oh really!)
--Too Windy (Remember the porch is covered; the plant unexposed)
--Improper Nutrition or pH (I repotted it using Miracle Grow potting soil.)
--Pesticide Over Use (Of course, I followed the manufacturer's directions!)

The article ends with a cheery note: "Good luck with your growing and gardening and by all means have fun with it!"

Yeah, right!

Happy Birthday, America

2007-07-04T22:31:00.002-05:00

Tonight celebratory booms and sizzles fill the air, while reds, whites and blues light the sky. Rain-soaked streets shimmer, and smoke drifts lazily across the landscape, reminding me of a theatrical depiction of a Civil War battle, though no Panavision or surround sound could match the experience of watching our neighborhood's fireworks display from the comfort of our front porch. But I move from porch to patio where the western sky puts on its own colorful show, streaking the horizon with pinks and purples. It's a lovely night, and I'm grateful to live in a country that affords me the freedoms America offers its citizens and grateful for a Creator whose creation is unparalleled, even tonight as we celebrate a birthday.

Being Home Alone

2007-07-01T21:28:00.000-05:00

My "home alone" weekend ends tomorrow when my husband and his ball team return to Missouri.

What I accomplished:

Cleaning up my Internet Favorites. Everything is now organized into folders and sub-folders. I never did find the link I made for a site that rated bathroom scales. I know I saved it twice in "shopping" and "health." Looking for it is what inspired me to work on this in the first place! But it is such a good feeling to be organized!
Dead-heading my flowers before the rains cames.
Washing one load of towels.
Freshening the bathroom by removing the coat of hairspray on my side of the vanity.
Grocery shopping.

What I did for myself:

Got a haircut, which will hopefully cut down on the amount of hairspray I use!
Read a book: I Capture the Castle -- recommended by Columnist Libby Gruner at Literary Mama
Celebrated a friend's birthday with lunch and an afternoon of shopping.
Lived in my pjamas.
Visited my parents.
Went to church.

What I learned:

A whole week is a long time to be alone!
Living alone can be pretty boring and lonely after a while. I was be glad to see my husband!
I need to do more for my widowed or divorced friends who are always home alone.

Home Alone

2007-06-25T21:44:00.000-05:00

My husband has taken his baseball team to Florida for a week! Our granddaughter's birthday is next week, so when he was making the reservations back in March, I opted not to go with him as I wanted to be available for any family celebration.

However, it has now ended up that no one is traveling to Kentucky for a party; instead we will celebrate when my son's family visits later in July, so. . .

I'm home alone.

I love my husband, and I love my son's family, but I do love being home alone. The house is quiet, and I can have a bowl of cereal for supper if I want. (Not that my husband complains about any meal I fix or if we eat out five nights in a row -- I truly have a gem of a husband.)

I hope the team, the coaches, and the parents that joined them have a wonderful time -- I hope they win all their games and have fun at MGM Park and at get nice tans at Daytona Beach. I pray they will return home safely next Monday.

Until then, I'm going to grab a book and settle in for a nice evening of reading.

Good Books

2007-06-18T22:13:00.001-05:00

It has been several months since I have read a really good book! The kind of book that makes me want to read quickly because I can't stand the suspense, yet the kind that makes me slow down because I'm not going to want the book to end.

When I retired, I compiled all the book lists I had stuffed in a folder into one long list. My goal was to read all of the books, or at least give each one a try. I soon discovered that is a futile endeavor because I keep adding new titles to my list. I now have three typed pages of three columns each typed in a 6 point font.

This problem is only becoming "worse"now that the Literary Reflections Department at Literary Mama has expanded with two new features: "Essential Reading" and "Now Reading." What a delightful dilemma!

This month's Essential Reading focuses on fathers. "Now Reading" will be posted soon.

Hope you will take a look!

Happy Birthday, Son

2007-06-08T21:05:00.000-05:00

Thirty one years ago today I was in labor at Research Hospital delivering my oldest son.

Just the day before I had had my last office visit with my OB/GYN Joe Williams. His parting words to me had been : "If I don't see you before, be at the hospital at 7 a.m., and we will induce labor."

Following the appointment, I was at lunch with my mom and aunt when it hit me that this time tomorrow I would be in pain. A wave of nausea washed over me, and when I expressed my thoughts, my mom asked, "Why? You've known all along you are going to have this baby at some point."

"I know, but now I know the appointed time of the labor, the appointed time of the pain, and the anticipation is a bit scary." (That all seems so silly now!)

The rest of the day was uneventful, and at 5:30 the next morning, I was up showering and packing my suitcase. I don't know why I had to be up so early -- except I'm sure I showered, fixed my hair, and maybe put on makeup, if that was allowed. (In those days, I'd never leave the house looking unpresentable.) Anyway, to muffle any noise, I had shut the door to the bathroom.

We were staying at my parents' house, as we lived an hour away from Kansas City, and my mom, who was getting ready for work, (She was supervisor of the recovery room at the same hospital.) told me our dog Smokie was poking his nose into the crack of light under the door as if he knew something noteworthy was going on.

By 7:30, I was in the labor room where my water was broken, and I was hooked up to all the monitors, waiting for contractions to begin. Eventually someone came in and poked me for an IV drip. I hate needles and immediately tensed until I was as flat and straight as a plank. "Relax, relax," the nurse kept repeating.

At some point, a group of student nurses came into the room to observe, and when their supervisor asked me if they could observe me all day, I said, "Sure, that's fine."

As the contractions strengthened, a nurse administered a shot of Demerol, which I thought was not working because I could still feel the pain. I pressed the call button and told the voice on the other side that I could still feel the pain and thought I needed another shot. I could tell she suppressed a laugh as she explained, "The medicine won't stop the pain; it just takes the edge off." I could just hear her telling her colleagues about my first-time-mom naivete!

The labor continued, slowly but surely, and my husband, who was going to school that was an hour's commute each way, dozed in the chair and then went to lunch with my mom. Along the way, my mother-in-law arrived and was sitting in the waiting room, where my husband delivered updates of my progress. Every hour or so, my mom checked in to note my progress.

Preparing to wheel me to the delivery room, a kind nurse was rubbing my back as the contractions strengthened. It helped take the edge off the pain. After a few minutes, she asked Jim to take over while she took care of some other duties. Jim said yes and gave me a couple of strokes then stopped. I whipped my head around and snapped, "Don't stop!"

To which he replied, "I think having babies makes you cranky." (GRRRRRR!)

The atmosphere of the delivery room was electric -- as though we were waiting for a noted celebrity to make his entrance. Student nurses lingered in at the edges of the crowd, like wallflowers awaiting their turn to fully participate. Nurses came and went through the swinging doors, reminding me of a serving staff moving from kitchen to ballroom. The doctor rushed in and took his assigned seat, finally saying that blessed word: "Push!"

And then -- there he was the star of the afternoon -- our son, our first born, who was received with a round of applause and (on my part) a grateful sigh of relief! As the nurses were cleaning him, I watched him craning his neck, inspecting the room, marveling at the crowd. (Okay, maybe not that -- but he did look awfully intelligent!)

In the meantime, one of the nurses went to the waiting room, where by now, my mom had joined my mother-in-law, and said, "Dixie, Dr. Williams wants to see you."

As my mom stood, my mother-in-law remarked, "She's not going any where without me." So, there they were, peeking through the doors, so they could see their first grandchild.

Later when he was bundled, and I was wrapped in a wonderfully warm blanket, I stared into his eyes, marveling at the awesome miracle he was (and is) and the awesome responsibility that was now mine.

I love you, Son! Happy Birthday!

Life Lines

2007-06-07T16:19:00.000-05:00

We bought a webcam, so when we call our son's family in KY, we can "see" them! "Them" primarily being our granddaughters.

I hooked the cam up, which was no easy task. Because our tower sits inside a cabinet, I had to pull it out, so I could see the back of it. Doing that made the speaker cords and the mouse cord come unplugged. It took me several minutes to determine which cord was the cam's and which was the mouse's and get everything (re)connected.

I don't know what all runs from our tower: the mouse, the screen, a printer, the speakers, the modem. That's only six cords and a couple I can't account for. But as I followed a line from the tower, untangling and separating them, I felt a bit like a surgeon, trying to determine which blood vessel is the one leaking. Nurse -- flashlight (It's shadowy inside that cabinet), nurse -- dust rag -- to mop up the dust bunnies, nurse -- gauze (to wipe my sweaty brow). Okay -- I said a bit.

Finally, I got everything connected and then opened the software instruction book, which said, "If your webcam is connected to the computer, unconnect it before beginning the installation!" I pulled the tower out again, disconnecting the mouse and speakers again.

When all was installed and reconnected, we called our son. And while we could hear and see them quite well, they had no audio from our end.

Back to the operating table.

More Serendipty

2007-06-01T21:11:00.000-05:00

Yesterday while out running errands, I drove past the back of the Firestone store where three male employees were doing a dance that was a cross between the Monster Mash and the Funky Chicken.

Closer inspection revealed they were trying to round up a mama duck and her ducklings who had apparently placed themselves in danger by wandering onto the back lot of the store. The ducklings were scattered hither and yon, while the mama waddled into the street.

Traffic came to a standstill while the mama climbed the curb and disappeared between two cars. Within seconds, she reappeared, this time with the ducklings obediently lined up behind her. They crossed the street, apparently headed home to the ditch of water across the street.

Tonight while returning home from furniture shopping, eight Canadian geese stopped traffic while crossing a four lane, busy suburban road. Their destination appeared to be a small pond on the other side of the road, which meant they had to cross the median and another four lanes of cars going 45 miles an hour.

It would have taken less time and been less dangerous to have taken wing, but there they were, plodding along like old men on their way to the local cafe. And respectively, traffic slowed for them.

Oh! I wish I had had my camera!

Happy Birthday

2007-05-27T12:37:00.000-05:00

Twenty-eight years ago today at 12:18 p.m. I gave birth to my second son.

Labor pains began at 5 a.m., and I lay in bed timing them, remembering the last time I'd felt this way three years before. Fortunately, we were staying with my parents, so they were able to care for our older son, giving us ample time.

Operating on slow, I
brushed my teeth
washed my face
dressed
woke my husband and my mom
(surely called my doctor -- though I don't remember doing so)
finished packing my bag
got in the car
arrived at the hospital twenty minutes later . . .

There, the contractions stopped, and I walked the halls to encourage the baby to make his appearance. (Though I'd had no sonogram to know the baby was a he.)

Since it was a holiday weekend, the hospital operated with a skeleton staff, and the labor and delivery floor was eeriely quiet, quite different than the day I delivered my older son, and a team of student nurses observed my every move.

In the delivery room, Jim and I were alone for what seemed a long time. (Though I know it must have been only a few mintues.) To kill his monotony, Jim pretended to be a sports caster doing a live interview prior to a major sporting event.

"Here we are, ladies and gentlemen, here at Research Hospital, awaiting the birth of our child." Turning his imaginary microphone toward me, he asked, "Would you like to say a few words?"

I answered, through clenched teeth, "I don't feel like talking; I'm going to throw up!"

Fortunately, the microphone was imaginary. If it had been real, I would have hit him with it!

He replied, "Sorry, just trying to add a bit of excitement to the moment."
Trust me, there was plenty of excitement for me -- I needed no more!

A few minutes later, with no fan fare, the doctor arrived, and our second son made his appearance, looking just like his older brother.

Today I celebrate his life. He is a handsome young man whom I admire. Though I still try to find the balance between mothering and befriending, I enjoy his company more than he knows. His mere existence makes me smile!

Happy Birthday, son! I love you!

How'd I Get Here?

2007-05-26T12:22:00.001-05:00

Lately, I've been in another writing slump -- dreading to draft -- dreading to revise, dreading to blog. Instead of dealing with it, I've, instead, let it sit on my shoulder like a ten-pound parrot, whispering discouraging lies in my ear.

A prompt about writing in my Advanced Parent-Lit class brought me back to my senses, and I realized this morning that I've come full circle -- back to the reason I started this blog -- just to write! Not to worry about how many read these posts, not to impress anyone with my abilities or startle anyone with my inabilities, not to claim notoriety, not to enter an elite club, not to judge my ideas as worthless.

Clink! Clink! Here's to just writing!

Whimsy in Kansas City

2007-05-22T15:08:00.001-05:00

One of my favorite things in Kansas City, Missouri, are sculptures of two badminton shuttlecocks, which are part of the Sculpture Garden at the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art.

Created by Claes Oldenburg and Coosje van Bruggen, Americans who were born in Sweden and The Netherlands, respectively, these sculptures stand almost 18 feet high and measure 15 feet at the crown and 4 feet at the nose.

Sitting on a huge expanse of lawn, juxtaposed by the stately design of the museum, they always make me smile.

Short Story Meme

2007-04-29T23:14:00.000-05:00

After a long hiatus, I'm online tonight, thinking about what I'd like to post here, catching up with friends' blogs. I came upon Susan's post about favorite short stories (ReadingWritingLiving), which, naturally, made me contemplate my own list.

So far, I can only think of five favorites (in no particular order):

"The Scarlet Ibis" by James Hurst
"The Story of an Hour" by Kate Chopin
"Gary Keillor" by Garrison Keillor
"A Rose for Emily" by William Faulkner
"Marigolds" by Eugenia Collier
"Masque of the Red Death" by Edgar Allen Poe

What are yours?

What Writing Does

2007-03-15T00:38:00.000-06:00

This is the last week of my PCLOWC! I can hardly bear it and realize some may find it startling that I can feel so passionate about the lives and writings of these nine women whom I have never met face to face.

The site message board is "lit up" with posts about our future goals and promises of staying in touch. It is much like the end-of-the-school-year flurry as seniors pledge to never forget one another -- to stay in touch -- to return to visit -- to write. Their words are honest, and their intentions are good, but having been a teacher for a long time, I know it won't be as they picture it.

New adventures bring new settings, new friends, new concerns, new commitments. Some of them will follow through for a time; many will not follow through at all. That is just the way life is. Some of us are participating in an advanced parent-lit class, so that helps ease my sadness, but still it won't be exactly the same.

I used to ask my students at the end of the year, "All of us will never be together in this place, this way, ever again. Don't you feel a bit sad? "

They would all stare at me and then respond in a unison, "No!" I would smile at their lack of sentiment -- especially knowing I am the queen of nostalgia.

Still, that is how I feel this evening. I have a vested interest in each of these women. I can't help it. We have written together, and that is what writing does.

Firsts

2007-03-08T20:49:00.000-06:00

I am 56 years old and never think about ordinary "firsts" being part of my life. Of course, there are many extraordinary things I've never done like shaking hands with a U.S. President, publishing a book, or flying in a helicopter. But I'm speaking of the every day type of things.

This week I've had two "firsts": I made navy beans and ham. (That's unbelievable considering how easy it is!) AND, ta da -- I wrote my first pantoum.

Perhaps writing the pantoum needs to classified with the extraordinary. After all, it is a challenging form of poetry!

The Men in Her Life

On frosty winter mornings when the sky was black velvet,
Oatmeal bubbled on the stove while
Daddy turned the dial to WDAF 610
And crooned a tune with Harry Belafonte.

Oatmeal bubbled on the stove while
Daddy brushed the tangles from my hair
And crooned a tune with Harry Belafonte
"Day-oh, Day-oh -- Daylight come and I wanna go home."

Daddy brushed the tangles from my hair,
Rinsed the breakfast dishes,
And crooned a tune with Harry Belafonte,
"Workin' on banana boat all day long -- Daylight come and I wanna go home."

Daddy rinsed the breakfast dishes
And turned the dial to WDAF 610:
"Day-oh, Day-oh -- Daylight come and I wanna go home."
On frosty winter mornings when the sky was black velvet.

Melodrama!

2007-03-07T15:59:00.000-06:00

Suddenly, she realized she would never write a novel the caliber of To Kill a Mockingbird, much less a decent short story, so she ripped the mouse cord from its connection, threw it across the room and collapsed on the floor in a sobbing heap.

Writing Retreat Day Two

2007-02-26T21:10:00.001-06:00

Saturday morning I had breakfast with former U.S. Poet-Laureate Billy Collins who was the featured speaker. Okay, I didn't actually sit with him . . . but we were in the same room. He read several of his poems, sharing ideas for his inspiration. I was particulary struck by this comment: "Poetry is a bird. Prose is a potato. Where prose ends, poetry begins." Apparently, his remark reflects a friendly feud with a fiction writer (name unknown to me), but it made me think of "found poems" by taking a piece of prose and pulling words and phrases from it to create a poem. I often assigned this to my students as we were reading a novel or short story and was always amazed at the different poems emerging from the same piece of prose.

Too often teachers beat both prose and poetry to death, encouraging students to detest it, so I appreciated Collins' suggestion to begin each day reading a poem -- just reading it. No formal analysis, no required discussion -- just read and enjoy! Think about it -- when I eat a Krispy Kreme doughnut, do I analyze its ingredients? I don't think so! I just enjoy it. (Okay, sometimes I might ponder the fat grams -- but that is only sometimes!) The Library of Congress, inspired by Collins' idea, has created a website: Poetry 180: A poem a day for american high schools where teachers can access poems of various writers.

Amy Lannin, Associate Director of the Missouri Writing Project through the University of Missouri, presented a workshop titled, "It's All Routine: Writing Creative Nonfiction." Perfect timing as that was the week's genre for my PCLOWC. Her presentation focused on how every day routines could provide inspiration for creative nonfiction. Using her own work as an example, she shared part of an essay she had written about packing a suitcase for a family trip. As she explored the topic, the piece eventually evolved into a memoir of packing for her grandmother as she left her home of forty years.

I liked her suggestion to freewrite a list of routines. Choose one and list all the steps of the routine. Think about the routines within the routines. Now, choose an object from this routine. Describe the object. Personify it. All of this prewriting moves the writer deeper into the subject matter. Once a text is drafted, Amy demonstrated how working with sentence structure (Her focus was participle phrases.) could take the writer more deeply into piece.

Books Amy recommended are noted in the sidebar. I'm familiar with Barry Lane's After the End, which I used when I was teaching. Though geared to working with students' texts, it has valuable ideas for any writer. Zoom by Istvan Banyai is a picture book that depicts zooming into the details or additional stories of a topic, and I definitely want to add it to my library. The pictures were fascinating!

Amy is a lovely woman -- warm and professional -- just being around her is a joy, and her presentation was excellent! In fact, I left with an idea taken from the routine list she had us make.

On the way out of town, my friends and I stopped at our favorite tea room at the Yankee Peddler. It has become a tradition to lunch there before leaving for home. I topped off my sandwich with a warm slice of chocolate cake. (Talk about fat grams!) What a sweet way to end my writing retreat, which I hope will also become a tradition!

My Retreat: Day One

2007-02-26T20:03:00.000-06:00

"The weather outside was frightful, but the writing so delightful."

Thursday evening ushered in bitter temperatures, but Friday morning I was cozy in my new pink and white nightgown and fluffy pink robe. The writing muses were smiling on me as my friends and I were assigned a suite (at no cost to us because of a hotel bookkeeping glitch) overlooking the lake at Osage Beach in the Ozarks. Room-service breakfast arrived late but warm, so I munched on scrambled eggs, toast, and Canadian bacon, while the tap, tap, tap of the laptop keys kept me company. I chose to write about the tender memory of my grandson's still birth. This topic evoked tears, but the few details I had scribbled on a scrap paper needed to be turned into something more, and I knew it would be safe to share it with my PCLOWC -- women I have never seen face to face, yet feel linked to through our writers' hearts.

In the early afternoon, I went to a Scholastic Books' display and bought a couple of books for my granddaughters and then browsed the vendors' tables. With my goodies in tow, I headed back to the room and began drafting a piece about being a mother-in-law. I didn't get too much done on it, for the next thing I knew, it was time to attend a reception for Writing Project members.

Later that evening, we all attended an open mic. Being reader #28, I grew nervous as I listened and enjoyed others' readings. Insecurities whispered in my ear. Who was I to share my work with these people? They were obviously real writers. But as I shared a piece titled "La Fleur" (posted at marmee's musings), I purposely looked for my friend Betty Jo, my writing buddy and cheerleader. Her smile gave me courage to believe I, too, deserved my brief moment in the writers' spotlight.

I was especially intrigued by one woman who is married to a former Buffalo Bills football player. Her narrative was centered on a ouija board's prediction of the Bills making it into the playoffs.. Though I'm not an avid follower of professional football, her mention of the Kansas City Chiefs caught my attention, and I wanted to interview her: How did she become a writer? How did she end up in Missouri? Did she teach then? Where does she teach now?

Back in our suite, we played a word game (can't remember the name). Then Dottie (my roommate) and I and turned out the lights, quietly chatting. Our sentences floated lazily through the air -- becoming phrases -- becoming words -- becoming pauses. I drifted off thinking what a lovely way to spend a day -- with people I love, doing the thing I love. I looked forward to Saturday.

Write Away

2007-02-15T08:15:00.000-06:00

Today I am leaving for a writing getaway! Though I have attended and helped facilitate a local retreat for the past four years, this is the first time I've done this on my own. So, tomorrow while two friends are attending workshops at the Write to Learn conference at the Lake of the Ozarks, I'm going to dedicate the day to writing. I have even decided to splurge on room service for lunch tomorrow! (I love room service!)

Another plus, I'm registering for Saturday's conference because Bill Collins, former U.S. Poet Laureate is speaking at breakfast, and there are a couple of writing workshops where I hope to pick up some tips or receive further inspiration.

Everything is packed, ready to go! Hope my Muse shows up!

Writing Friends

2007-02-11T18:00:00.000-06:00

Today has been a good day for writing. Not my own but for some writing friends. In our PCLOWC, I read a beautiful piece titled "Nancy's Kitchen" written by Nancy's daughter-in-law. The piece took me back to my childhood, sitting around my Grandma Young's oak table that seated 10 people comfortably. It also reminded me of my Grandma Fizer whose hands performed magic on every chicken she fried and every cake batter she mixed (from scratch!) I've been thinking about writing about her talent for a while now. and this essay has inspired me further.

Other writing by Caroline can be found at "food for thought." The link is in my list, and I encourage you to visit there.

Then another lady (my writing partner for the next five weeks) began a blog! You can visit her at "Life Comes in Bunches Like Bananas." Her link is also in my list.

Actually, all the writers in my class who have blogs are listed in my link list. I hope you will visit them all! Some great writing is going on here -- some great "cyberspace" friendships are being forged.

Living in a writing community is so rewarding!

Marmee's Brag Book

2007-02-10T18:52:00.000-06:00

Please allow me a moment to be a proud mother: I crafted the following sentence (by the grace of God) and am so pleased with it, I want to march it across the page and give it a moment in the spotlight.

"I do not walk perfectly, but neither do I walk defeated."

Tha's all. Just wanted you to see one of my "children." :)

Keeping On

2007-02-05T21:15:00.000-06:00

This week's lesson in the PCLOWC class is revision.

Having taught writing for so long, I know what to address in revision. But while reading through the class notes, I realized how much time and energy I waste by trying to address such ideas while I create a first draft. Also, being the literary magazine advisor and an copyeditor for Literary Mama has made me so conscious of tightening a text that I'm letting that also interfere with drafting. Doing this stifles fluency and creativity!

So, I tell myself once again "Just write, Kathy. Just write."

A Burning Issue

2007-02-03T20:40:00.000-06:00

Every year when the "Back to School" signs plaster the windows of local stores and the school buses roll out of the bus barns, administrators across America take up their collective chant: "Failing is not an option! Failing is not an option!"

Sounds good, doesn't it? Makes you picture the teachers, parents, and students pulling together, using every tool available in their communities and school districts to help each student achieve. Makes you proud to see the American spirit of can do thriving in the halls of academia!

So, what are teachers doing to make this mission statement a reality? Everything! They attend seminars, workshops, and conferences year round (often at their own expense). They sit in endless professional development meetings listening to professional gurus espouse the latest educational trend, such as the one a neighboring school district is committed to for this school year: "Failure is Not an Option." They strategize, plan, collaborate, and create, always seeking to make the curriculum, lessons, and activities relevant to their students. They post homework, test dates, and other pertinent information at their websites, in e-mails, or on homework hotlines. They contact the failing student's counselor, parents, administrator, and the advisory teacher. They fill out weekly grade reports requested by parents and return parents' phone calls or e-mails. The list goes on and on and on! There is no end to what most teachers do in the effort to motivate the failing student.

And what do the failing students do to improve their poor grades? From this teacher's vantage point: Nothing. They don't do their homework; they don't study for tests; they don't listen in class or bring the textbook/supplies. Frequently, they don't even come to school. They do nothing! Oh, wait! They do one thing: make the teacher responsible for their F. Recently a colleague from this same district mentioned above shared this anecdote: ". . . A program called "In the Margin" requires we put a mark in the margin of all students' agendas when they do not turn in an assignment. Then, they have five days to turn it in and still receive credit. . . We cannot require the student to do the work if we did not put the mark in their agenda. Apparently, a sixth grade teacher gave a student a zero on an assignment that was never turned in. The parents called and complained and our principal told the teacher that because she didn't put her mark in the agenda, the student could not be held responsible for the assignment."

She goes on to ask: "So- when exactly is this about the student's learning? At what point is it NOT our job to be sure the students do what they need to do whether we put a mark in their agenda or not?"

I add to her question: When exactly will the parents understand that it is NOT the teacher's job to supervise the students' study habits and personal schedules outside of the classroom? There is a place where the teacher ends and the student begins, and that place needs to intersect with parental supervision and high standards.

Of course, there are exceptions to this scenario. Things happen – sometimes terrible things – that prevent a student from learning or being successful in a class. There are some teachers whose job performance is insufficient. But when those situations are removed from the equation, what remains? Administrators with good, but misguided intentions, irresponsible students, and enabling parents. And while the students need to bear the responsibility for their choices, the greater burden falls on the parents. Kids will be kids, testing the limits and getting away with what they can; it's the parents that set the appropriate boundaries of accountability and responsibility.

No Child Left Behind and state-mandated tests have created high-stakes education. District funding is partially determined by these tests scores and NCLB ratings. Thousands of dollars of grant money are poured into school districts across America, so our students won't fail. Teachers know it. Would someone please tell the parents?

Another Serendipity

2007-01-30T13:07:00.001-06:00

This week's homework genre in my PLOWC (parent-lit online writing class) is creative non-fiction. Since I'm a bit behind and still working on last week's op/ed piece, I have only been rolling ideas around in my head for this week's assignment. But through our class discussion/message board, we have been sharing how we make time to write, and as I was posting a comment about writing with my classes before I retired, I remembered some freewritings I saved.

One is about my dad's black Ford and the Mr. Peanut pin that was stuck in the passenger-side visor. Perhaps that will be my focus for a memoir or vignette! If that doesn't pan out, I'm still blessed with the warm memory of my dad, his car, and Mr. Peanut.

Hope you have a serendipity kind of day!
Marmee