First Chapter Books

As a parent I'm no different than any other; I have a list of  things that I can't wait to do with my kids.  The hardest part is waiting for them to be old enough to play catch, take hiking, or go to the theater.  Reading chapter books aloud to them was at the top of my list.  We do read alouds during our school year every day, but those selections have a specific purpose, and they aren't always designed with my youngest in mind. 

Their first personal read-alouds usually begin around the time they are five and they have some connection with my own childhood.  J's first read aloud was The Boxcar Children, a book I loved so much that I convinced my best friend to check it out from the library on my card.  She promptly lost it and I paid the fine on her behalf secretly hoping she was really just keeping it because she loved it as much as I did.  B's first read-aloud selections were a little different because he shared a room with his older brother so bedtime stories were for both of them.  But I chose The Phantom Tollbooth with my math-minded, artistic B in mind, remembering when a teacher read it aloud to our class while we made thickly colored wax crayon drawings of the story.  


Now it is summer.  And as I snuggle in with five-year-old S before bed we get to read something together that's just for pure fun.  The first one I picked for the two of us was Stuart Little by E. B. White.  I remember getting the set of books by E. B. White when I was a child and reading them all at least twice.  (My oldest absconded with my set and did the same thing.  Only the tattered, coverless pages are left.)  We both enjoyed Stuart Little though I wonder what he thought about the ending since the story never really concludes.  But then again, maybe it's good for him to know that sometimes our hardest searches will come up empty and what we learn to live with is hope.

The second choice is Rabbit Hill by Robert Lawson.  We are only one chapter in, having broken it into two sittings, and the vocabulary is beyond him.  Sadly, I take on the role of dictionary during much of our reading, but most of the time I just let the words hover over his head and see if he shows an interest in knowing them.  I know it's ideal to read above their level, but this one might be just a bit too high.

If we can move through this one quickly enough, I'd like to introduce him to Thornton Burgess' animal stories.  I found an old edition at a library sale years ago and those stories are delightful.  And after that I want him to hear...

Read it Again

My summer reading theme this year is "Re-Reads."  Last year I caught up with various sub-cultures a bit as I read through some of the most influential books from the past 10 years.  This year, I'm catching up with my former self and standing her back-to-back with my present self, measuring the distance between.  I'm re-reading those books that had significant influence on me, maybe left me breathless, and asking the question, "Does this book still hold its place?"

These books are attached to moments and experiences.  When I read them I endured a hard/interesting season of life, pondered a question, sought out a perspective.  As I re-read the books, I'm looking back to where I was the first time, seeing where I've changed, how life took turns I wasn't expecting.

The list is significant.  But the moments re-lived may be more overwhelming.

East of Eden

To begin I've picked up the book that began my love of Steinbeck, East of Eden.  I took it along on a roadtrip with my husband up California's Highway 101 through Steinbeck country. Three years into marriage.  One church down.  Seminary educations in full swing. Childless and idealistic.  This story gave me a dose of reality I couldn't relate to and yet couldn't shake.  Have I seen and understood more of this reality in the time in between?  And just when I had my Steinbeck collection all in matching orange spines, why did Penguin go and change the design?

The Pursuit of God

Secondarily, I've re-opened The Pursuit of God by A.W. Tozer on my Kindle.  This is one that I read during our impossible journey years ago.  When we were packing up everything to put in storage for an undetermined amount of time, I kept this book out knowing I needed what it had for me.  While waiting, praying, crying out to be heard, hoping, sighing, living without a home, without a job, or a purpose  I'd put our two kids to bed in our borrowed rooms at my parents house and go out on the arbor swing and just let Tozer teach and calm my anxieties.  Our current season is the opposite of that one.  Will Tozer still give clarity toward a fuzzy future?


The rest of the list:
Walking on Water by Madeleine L'Engle
Ordering Your Private World by Gordon MacDonald
The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas
Surprised by Hope by N.T. Wright
Men and Women in the Church by Sarah Sumner
Working the Angles by Eugene Peterson
Gift from the Sea by Ann Morrow Lindbergh
Night by Elie Wiesel
Entering His Presence by Don McMinn
The Skilled Helper by Gerard Egan
Native Son by Richard Wright
Sacred Companions by David Benner
Bittersweet by Shauna Niequist

Following the Call

I'm going to take a cue from my reading.  It's time to be done indoors. The outside is calling me.  I'm not able to read them all at once, but these are the reads that are vying for my attention.

God in the Yard

Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

God in the Yard:  spiritual practice for the rest of us begins today as my summer practice.  I'm going to combine the spiritual practice with blogging practice  posting my reflections here.  If you're working through this book too (I've invited several friends), leave me a link to your own blog posts and we'll have a nice little virtual group.  

I normally lead a book group at the park in the summer.  This summer I knew I needed to say, "no," to that.  I'm long enough into life to know that I need to pay attention to my hesitations.  However, I realize that the 'being outside' element of that was probably very nourishing.  This book will get me out, on the grass, in the Columbines, fingers to earth.

Pilgrim at Tinker Creek has been on my nightstand for several months, a gift from my aunt who buys me books to chew on.  I was waiting for enough room to read it.  As we move into summer, I'm finding that space.  In the first few pages the author describes her home by a creek and says, "I like where I live; there is much to think about."  Isn't that what nature truly causes?  What we call enjoyment is more accurately the act of taking notes on beauty, design, dependence, flexibility, perseverance.  Taking a walk along a creek may be our way of clearing our head, but really we are working with thoughts, resorting them based on our primary connection to the loamy paths and rippling water.  

The Art of the Commonplace

The Art of the Commonplace:  the agrarian essays of Wendell Berry.  This is the first I've read him and I've barely begun.  Regarding Walden, I doubt I'll actually crack it this summer.  But it's a nice thought.  We'll see. 

Walden

As the outdoors continue to call, I am making final plans for the family getaway.  I'm looking forward to changing spaces for a while, trading brick houses and creaking hardwood floors for expansive vistas and zippered breathable nylon tents.  Exchanging what I engage in from school books to sand dunes, from piles of dishes to tent rocks, from cold dark bedrooms to the amazing enclosure of caves.  The outdoors are calling.  It's time to heed the call.  It's time to think about something different.

Summer's Second Act

On this first day of July we said good-bye to my parents who had been visiting for well over a week, finished S's last day of soccer camp, played at the lakeshore beach and took a long afternoon siesta.
This was our moment of rest.  


This past month we've been busy getting summer under way:  the vacation that wasn't quite what we'd planned, the beginning of a beautiful summer mom's park group, getting J fitted to his volunteer job, the start of B's baseball, camping with extended family.  Juggling, swaying, finding a balance.  The children didn't understand how necessary today's rest really was, but looking ahead I know that summer will have its tumults to come and today, if only for a few hours, was the day for stillness.

In many respects, this is the beginning of Summer Part II.  Part I introduced the routine. Part II is where we live into it and settle resolutely into summer's palm.  This is the part, the core if it, where those memorable quiet moments and discoveries will surprise us. Tomorrow my husband and I will entrust the children with  friends and escape to the mountains for a night. It will mark the next act of summer, in which I create and ponder and reflect and grow. In these next days my plans and philosophies for what comes next will become present and I will listen to what God is speaking into my world. These are the days I've been moving toward for months.   They are my only preparation for what is to come next.

I know that Summer's Third Act will come blowing in with a lesser grace and greater urgency.  The endings will come one after another. And we'll launch into the unknowable future of leading and learning. For now,  I am exactly where I want to be.

Intentional To-Do

I have a definite love for making lists. My to-do list, specifically, has bounced over and over again from a spiral notebook, to my Outlook task folder, to full-page organizers, to little pieces of scratch paper. Once that list wants out of my head, I get it down in whatever medium I have available.

One summer my satisfyingly extensive to-do list wasn't even enough. As I was recording daily what my baby was learning and doing (see, another list!) I began to also journal three or four things that the entire family had done each day, thus underscoring all the things I had been able to cross off said to-do list.

After nostalgically re-reading some of that journaling this weekend I noticed one thing. It was all about what we did and nothing about how we did it or who we became in the process.

Last month I had the opportunity to attend a workshop by Keith Dorscht of Live Fully Engaged. Among all the really useful things he said, one thing that stuck with me was the idea of how to approach my to-do list. What it boiled down to was to ask myself this question, "At the end of the day what will "well done" look like?"

In the past few weeks, that phrase has been priceless to me.

We so often push "well done" into the heavenly scenario that will take place at the end of our lives. But this mentality seems to only give us space to blow-it daily and fall back on idly trying again tomorrow. But what if we only continue to screw up our teaching, our marriage, our parenting, our priorities? What tragedies befall us if we keep putting off the changes we need to make? What if there isn't a tomorrow?

Asking, "What will 'well done' look like?" daily opens up my to-do list to the true priorities: making my voice respectful, looking my kids in the eye when they ask for my attention, responding with patience to the irritating things of life, doing the hard things in relationships, thinking outside the box, tackling the tasks that will bless others, show love in ways that are meaningful to the recipient, [insert your own personal growth issue here]...

This summer my to-do list seems much shorter than in years past. Truthfully, I have plenty of things to do, but I'm not nearly as focused on what I have to do as I am on who I aim to be at the end of the day. It's amazing what at little mental shift will do for you.

So, at the end of your day today what will "well done" look like in your life?

Intentional Choice

Before we even moved to Denver I did some serious re-evaluation of the value of a Christian homeschool co-op. I completely understand the reason for their existence and I even helped start one up in our city. But in terms of living missionally, I had difficulty lining up my family's vision with that of the Christian co-op.

You see, I do not homeschool my children in order to shelter them from the world. Therein lies one of the major differences between me and others on this journey. I understand that rationale I just, respectfully, don't share it. I do exercise my freedom to expose my kids to the less idyllic things of the world when it's appropriate to do so (on our family's timetable and not someone else's) and when we can have a decent two-way discussion about it.

In addition to this, I want to instill in my kids that its okay to feel comfortable with people who are different from them be it in philosophy, lifestyle, worldview or anything. In my experience with Christian co-ops, there tended to be a moral agenda that was assumed to be bottom-line biblical. There was also a political agenda that was actually based on fear. While there were many in the co-op who truly loved others, there was a general feeling that we needed to be intently concerned about ourselves and minimally concerned about the world around us. I struggled with this because I understood (and still understand) it, I just couldn't set my priorities that way knowing that the gospel is the good news that God has come to rescue and redeem all of creation through the work of Jesus Christ on our behalf.

In my attempt to do what Jesus said... to be "salt and light" in the world... I needed to step out of the Christian bubble, to engage the culture around me so that in knowing it more fully I could bless it. To, first of all, love it. Plain and simple. I have difficulty intentionally doing that in a homogeneous group that portends to exist outside of and boldly against culture.

The homeschooling group I've found here in Denver is a wonderful mix of all kinds of families. I suspect a good many have a Christian belief system, but that's not the main assumption we make about each other. The things that bind us together are the basic daily tasks of schooling, loving and training our children well, exposing them to a myriad of transformative encounters, and encouraging one another through the less idyllic experiences of our own lives. It's stretching me as I learn a deeper way to love and listen. There is much to be learned here, but if I can't love learning (or love people) then I can't teach my kids to do the same.

Tough stuff to think about.

Intentional Rest

This summer isn't quite the relaxing time I had hoped for so far. These first few weeks have been filled with great, meaningful stuff. I mean how can you go wrong with a Park and Rec party...summer reading kickoffs...a week-long online ministry conference...co-op park day...Tae Kwon Do...Baseball...soccer...mentoring sessions...worship...a killer book sale...a day at the lake...a home educator conference...date night...a wildlife tour...a visit from my folks...a spraypark...a surprise visit from Portland friends...Junior Police Academy...dinner for friends who had a hard week...

I supposed it's possible to overdo it even though it was all wonderful. This introvert needs serious recharge time.

Today made up for all of the busy-ness and even without a nap I was able to rest. I had breakfast with a friend that lasted until lunchtime. Then, DH decided to institute Quiet Reading time for the older boys while the youngest napped (genius!), I worked on photo albums, began reading The Mouse and the Motorcycle aloud to B and J, had an early & easy spaghetti dinner, took a family walk that was just shy of five miles (!), and there's still time to read a book.

Today had all the elements I love about summer: long conversations, time with my kids, exercise, the outdoors, my happy husband, cooperation... and right now the pink sunlight is bouncing off the clouds over the Rockies.

I need to have more days like this.

Because on Monday there's soccer, Taekwon Do, team pictures, a baseball game...

Intentional Summer, Part 2

Spiritual Discussion (Park Group) for Moms

Beginning Friday, June 12, 2009

Being intentional about our hearts and relationships is tough as busy moms. If you have a hard time hearing God above the noise of daily life, join other TNL moms for this intentional summer park group.

Bring your children with you and any gear or snacks that you think they will need. Feel free to get up from the group discussion to help or play with them at any point. We will meet every other Friday from 10-12 beginning June 12.

We'll process through Invitation to Solitude and Silence: Experiencing God's Transforming Presence by Ruth Haley Barton. The book is available at TNL’s information table for $12.

Intentional Summer, Part 1

My post is up at Heart of the Matter today.

"I have always held that summer is a great time for learning and while we stop our academics my kids continue in their social, physical and delight directed learning. But what about me? I have found that I become a bit of a taxi driver in the summer taking them from camp to playdate to lesson. At the end of the summer I look at my half-checked to-do list and think, “Where did my time go?” “What did I accomplish?” “Who did I become?”

This summer I’m..."

read the rest here.