all done january

Tags

attitude adjustment, chalkboard, dreaming, goal setting, january doldroms, winter, wishing

It seems like I try something new every year in January to help with organizing, goal setting, exercising, attitude adjustment and whatever else comes along with generally being in a bad mood after Christmas is over.

I’ve decided that the important thing is not that I ever necessarily hit on the perfect way to begin a new year.  All my past efforts have met with varying degrees of success or failure (depending on your perspective).  I think what I’ve learned is that it helps to make some sort of intentional effort.  To do something.  Anything. Rather than nothing.  Somehow this gives me an edge up on the slump.

And though January is always still a little rough, I can at least usually say on February 1st,

Imagine how bad it could have been.  So. Much. Worse.

So here was this year’s effort.  I painted a giant chalkboard in my bedroom.

And I started writing lists.

Somehow it’s helpful for me to frame goals in other words and phrases.

Hopes.

Dreams.

Wishes.

It just sounds better.

But still,  I’m writing down things I hope to do.

This year.

This month.

This day.

And every once in a while, I get to check something off.  Even in January.

And if I don’t check it off after I while, I just erase it and write something new.

things that make me smile

These pictures from Bryan Jones’ tumbler are making me smile today.

I would like for my head to be as free from worry as the blue, blue sky in this picture is of clouds.

Lots of kids and adults box sledding in the sun.

grassy hill + cardboard box = free fun!

See the rest of his photos here.

transcending flesh

A sudden death calls us away to a funeral today.

Grieving a death and celebrating Christmas in the same breathe makes for muddled emotions,

so I was so grateful to find this poem yesterday.

It was just what my soul craved.

Made flesh

After the bright beam of hot annunciation
Fused heaven with dark earth
His searing sharply-focused light
Went out for a while
Eclipsed in amniotic gloom:
His cool immensity of splendor
His universal grace
Small-folded in a warm dim
Female space—
The Word stern-sentenced to be nine months dumb—
Infinity walled in a womb
Until the next enormity—the Mighty,
After submission to a woman’s pains
Helpless on a barn-bare floor
First-tasting bitter earth.

Now, I in him surrender
To the crush and cry of birth.
Because eternity
Was closeted in time
He is my open door
To forever.
From his imprisonment my freedoms grow,
Find wings.
Part of his body, I transcend this flesh.
From his sweet silence my mouth sings.
Out of his dark I glow.
My life, as his,
Slips through death’s mesh,
Time’s bars,
Joins hands with heaven,
Speaks with stars.

Luci Shaw

h/t Arti at Ripple Effects for pointing out this poem and many other beautiful selections to quiet our hearts at Christmas.

tomato and cheddar potato soup

We’re kind of missing this view today and moving very slowly.

In fact, one little Chino missed the departure for school this morning due to an overwhelming need to despair in a puddle on the floor.

She is now outside planting bulbs, because well, it worked for me.

Next up, laundry and unpacking.

We’re also going to make soup.

I make this soup about once a month in the winter, and I can’t believe I’ve never posted it before.  To me, it is comfort in a bowl.

You start by boiling the potatoes in beer which gives the soup a dark, wonderful flavor.

Soup may not solve all our re-entry woes, but surely it will help.

Tomato and Cheddar Potato Soup with Beer

Loosely adapted from Crescent Dragonwagon’s Soup and Bread

2 cups dark beer

6 large potatoes

1 quart chicken stock

3 bay leaves

1 teaspoon basil

1 teaspoon oregano

½ cup butter

1 large onion, diced

2 ribs celery, diced

2 carrots, diced

5 cloves garlic, peeled and minced

1 28oz can diced tomatoes

2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce

1 tablespoon soy sauce

2 tablespoons flour

1 cup milk

Tobasco sauce to taste, optional

½ teaspoon dry mustard

12 oz sharp cheddar cheese, shredded

Salt and pepper to taste

Bring potatoes to a boil in the stock and beer.  Add the bay leaves, basil and oregano.

In a cast iron skillet, melt butter.  Saute onion 10 minutes.  Add celery, garlic and carrot.  Cook 10 more minutes.

Add tomatoes and sauces.  Cook until most of the liquid evaporates.

Make a paste with the flour and then gradually stir in the milk.

Add mustard and tobasco (if using).

Stir tomato mixture into the soup pot and add the cheese.

Allow the soup to heat back up after the cheese is added before serving.

Serve hot.

sick day

Tags

elementary school drama, mean girls

I wrote this at least a year ago, but never posted it because I didn’t want to embarrass Mary Polly.

But now that this incident is such a very distant memory, I’m sure it will be fine.  Also, I’m happy to report that she seems to be thriving so far in middle school.

Sometime in September:

One afternoon last week the phone rang and a little mouse on the other end of the line said,

MP: Mama, my tummy hurts.

ME: Honey, can you speak up?  I can’t really hear you.  Is this Mary Polly?

MP: Yes, Mama, my stomach is really hurting.

She sounded very sad.

ME: OK, honey.  I’ll be there in a sec.

Once she got home, she just melted into a little pile on the couch.  She started crying and somehow, I had a hunch that the problem was not originating in her belly.  Finally, in one almost completely unintelligible breath, she said:

Some kids were being so mean today in PE and were saying that Evan sucks and they didn’t want Christian on their team and the teacher was saying they were having bad sportsmanship and I was saying yes, they are and then it was my turn to go and I missed the ball and everyone yelled you stink and made fun of me and it reeeeeeeeeeally hurt my feeeeeeeeeeeelings.

Followed by fits of sobbing.

Friends, this is a child who will not be eating her locker combination.

Because she really needs to beef up for middle school, I probably should have sent her right back to the playground to face her enemies.

Or helped her come up with a clever comeback to You stink!

But since I am perfectly capable of working up a stomachache over some hurt feelings and because I’ve never been quick with a comeback, we both curled up with books and had a nap instead.

little bee

Tags

chris cleave, little bee, nigeria

I discovered this book on someone else’s top books of 2009 list.   I think the cover might have hooked me actually, as much as the recommendation.  Which should show you that I’m kind of an easy sell for a book.

School was called off because of sleet today and while Taido walked the icy streets with our crew, I curled into the couch and became completely immersed in this story.

Little Bee is a refugee from Nigeria and by far the most powerful part of the writing of this story is her voice.  The chapters are alternatively narrated by her and another woman with whom her life has crossed paths.

It is one of those stories about which it is best not to know too much before you begin it.  So I will not say much, but here is a little excerpt of the eloquent voice this author has given to a precious 16 year old girl from a small African village.

In your country, if you are not scared enough already, you can go to watch a horror film.  Afterward you can go out of the cinema into the night and for a little while there is horror in everything.  Perhaps there are murderers lying in wait for you at home.  You think this because there is a light on in your house that your are certain you did not leave on.  And when you remove your makeup in the mirror last thing, you see a strange look in your own eyes.  It is not you.  For one hour you are haunted, and you do not trust anybody, and then the feeling fades away.  Horror in your country is something you take a dose of to remind yourself that you are not suffering from it.

For me and the girls from my village, horror is a disease and we are sick with it.  It is not an illness you can cure yourself of by standing up and letting the big red cinema seat fold itself up behind you.  That would be a good trick.  If I could do that, please believe me, I would already be standing in the foyer.  I would be laughing with the kiosk boy, and exchanging British one-pound coins for hot buttered popcorn, and saying, Phew, thank the Good Lord all that is over, that is the most frightening film I ever saw and I think next time I will go to see a comedy, or maybe a romantic film with kissing.   But the film in your memory, you cannot walk out of so easily.  Wherever you go it is always playing.  So when I say that I am a refugee, you must understand that there is no refuge.

Some days I wonder how many there are just like me.  Thousands, I think, just floating on the oceans right now.  In between our world and yours.  If we cannot pay smugglers to transport us, we stow away on cargo ships.  In the dark, in freight containers.  Breathing quietly in the darkness, hungry, hearing the strange clanking sounds of ships, smelling the diesel oil and the paint, listening to the bom-bom-bom of the engines.  Wide-awake at night, hearing the singing of the whales rising up from the deep sea and vibrating through the ship.  All of us whispering, praying, thinking.  And what are we thinking of?  Of physical safety, of peace of mind.  Of all these imaginary countries that are now being served in the foyer.

I believe Little Bee’s voice will haunt me for a long time.

Also, I think her oft-used phrase That would be a good trick is going to move right up in my world in the same way the phrase It’s time to do the skedaddle has forever become a part of my vernacular with friends who have also read the story of the Walls’ family.

most loved

Oh mama, I think this is the sweetest book in the whole world.

That’s what Mary Polly said after she read this book I brought home from the library last week. She took it to school today to share with her teacher and the rest of the class.

Sometimes we find a treasure so dear at the library that we read it over and over and re-check it and feel so sad when we must finally relinquish it back to the library.  It grabs our hearts and we just don’t want to let it go.  This story is one of those.  One that will go on a birthday list.

It is set during slavery and is about a mama who loves her little girl so much that she gives her the chance to be free, even if that opportunity will come at the cost of never seeing her again.  The story takes hold of you with surprisingly few words.  The beautiful illustrations paint the picture of a time that was so hard that someone might make such a sacrifice.  You look back at the pictures again and again, marveling at a mother’s love in the midst of a world of hate.  A world gone wrong.

And still going wrong.

How desperately we need saving.

a timely prayer from today’s reading:

Lord God, whose blessed Son our Savior gave his body to be whipped and his face to be spit upon:  Give me the grace to accept joyfully the sufferings of the present time, confident of the glory that shall be revealed; through Jesus Christ your Son my Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

from Phyllis Tickle’s Divine Hours: Prayers for Springtime

weekend reading

Tags

books, darfur, sudan

The last two days finally slowed down enough for me to recover a little from spring break. I’ve been catching up on my reading. In between laundry loads. I picked this book up at the library when I went in search of the documentary by the same name. Anna told me I needed to watch it, but I’m reading instead and I guess I’ll pick up the documentary later.

When I finish God Grew Tired of Us, next in the cue is The Devil Came on Horseback. It was right next to this one at the library and is the name of yet another documentary about the Sudan. So strange. I had both of these on my “to watch” list, but didn’t even know they were books first.

So what I’m wondering is how many movies, books, songs, benefits, letters, emails, etc have to exist about the Sudan before it is enough to stop the madness? I guess a whole lot more.

Especially if all I’m going to do about it is sit in my camp chair at chess tournaments and soccer games tomorrow weeping for the Sudanese. Maybe on Monday someone could help me put all that grief to good use. Can we start a Sudan refugee home in Central Arkansas? Help me out people.

What are you reading this weekend?

ouch

Tags

justice, standard of living, the american way, this american life

This picture stopped me in my tracks.  I thought it was worth seeing, so I swiped it off my friend, David’s blog.  Thoughts?

Mary Polly said she remembers this exact scene being described in the book, Bud, Not Buddy.

I’ve been thnking a lot about our “standard of living” lately.  Especially since listening to This American Life’s episode on the banking crisis that explains to normal people like me what in the heck is going on with our banks.  It is well worth the listen for this explanation, but also for the poignant reminder that the banks have just given us what we’ve wanted…the American Way baby…

long shadows

Tags

Daisy Bates, Little Rock Central High, little rock nine, Melba Pattillo Beals, The Long Shadow Indeed, Warriors Don't Cry

Eleanor Roosevelt wrote the introduction to Daisy Bates’ memoir about the Little Rock Nine, which was first published in 1962.  In it, she boldly states,

Every American should read this book.

I could not agree more.  In fact, I think it is true of both of these books.

And of Arkansans it is doubly true.

And if you are an Arkansan living in Little Rock, well…maybe reading these stories will bring healing.

Healing that clearly has not truly occurred since 1957 as was made evident in the brutally honest look at what public school in greater Little Rock is like 50 years following this harrowing year of integration.  Still. Very. Segregated.

I find that the only words I am left with after a day of reading (plus sneezing and coughing) are…

Come, Lord Jesus.