Mommy, Come Play - Four Ideas

I finally found the perfect picture to add to part two of my post "Mommy, Come Play!" But I also found all these other pictures of my kids at play with music and figured I might as well sprinkle them in this post - the final installment on this discussion - just four specific principles Norah and Lizzy have taught me in this new approach I'm trying with music.  And no, I don't believe these approaches will apply to all ages - it's how you work with "saplings" not taller, older "trees" but more of this wouldn't hurt the trees, either:

1. Lots of sun and water and hardly any pruning. I may say, "Time for music, anyone want to play with mommy?" but usually I just go to the piano and start playing or get out my guitar and wait for the that gravitational pull to bring the ducklings to me. Once they've asked for my help I keep making sure they're the one leading the practice. I ask questions, I don't give commands. For instance:"Here are all the books we could play out of, what would you like to do first?" OR, "Which song would you like to play?" OR, "Would you like my help scrubbing that spot?" If they say, "No" then we move on - no frowny face, no huffing, no disappointed look. If they say "Yes" then I start the scrubbing, but very gently (think baby bath). If they start playing something differently I might say, "That's different, isn't it?" I've had Norah go on for 5 minutes this way, making up a story about why her left hand doesn't want to play the notes he's suppose to so the right hand did it for "him" - complete with voices and all. I would have missed this awesome "recital" had I insisted she play it "correctly."

2. Take more time smelling the flowers than you do working in the garden. Following the lead of your child might mean you spend 15 minutes just watching them play at the piano. Maybe for a week they just want you to sit and watch them make up songs on the piano. You may doubt that anything "productive" is being accomplished. In those moments, check your purposes. Check your math.










3. Keep the plants thirsting for more. I always stop before I know they want to - each book or "pattern game" or "finger secret" we're working on, as well as the "play" session in general.






4. Don't miss the roses. So last night I really went to the piano because I wanted to play. But I've trained my girls too well. 3 minutes and Norah is there. She plays around me on the piano for a while. Then starts using a pencil to pretend she's teaching me - using all sorts of interesting made-up words to describe the exciting things she's teaching me to do, drawing little doodles in my music. When after 20 minutes I'm still not paying much attention she grabs my left hand off the keys and says, "No, like this, take a ride and watch closely." I'm still playing with my right hand, trying to sneak in my practice time while she shows me what to play with my left hand. I go back to my song and she's offended. "No, mommy, play the song I showed you!" Finally I realize what I'd be doing if I shewed her away or ignored her any longer and I "take a ride" on her hand again. I do the little simple rhythm she shows me, then add something similar in the right hand and ask, "Like this?" "Yes! That's it, perfect! Now higher. Now faster. Yes! I love it mommy!" Then she has me take a ride and plays a totally different, softer motif. It sounds like Brahms's lullaby, so I start making up a lullaby like that. Norah says, "ah....that sounds so pretty. Like a baby song. I'll dance to it while you play." When we went up the stairs to bed that night, Norah was beaming at all she had taught me. "That was so fun, mommy! I taught YOU, hahaha!" Yes. She did.

Mommy, Come Play - Part 2

In  part 1 of this post, I shared my response to the comment "You homeschool?  I could never do that!" I also stated that I had begun to see a connection between that comment and two others that I hear frequently: "What age should I start my child in music lessons? and "I wish I never stopped playing the piano." 
I've wrestled for months with this post.  Rather than try to describe what I'm feeling, I've decided first to "show" you what I'm feeling by sharing what are becoming common experiences with my children. 

(Part 3 discusses specific ideas to implement in music practice with your children)
 

It all started many years ago when I actually applied with my first two children, the answers I used to give parents as a music "professional."  Not just when to "start" music, but how to practice, when to practice, how often to practice etc. The results . . . well, they prompted me to begin asking other questions. The answers I found have changed my perspective, my purposes, and my approach.

And it has changed the results.

Opposition in all things

I've been trying to help Ellie understand algebra; that an equation is like a balance scale.  It struck me as I described to her how what we do to one side of the equation we must do to the other, the real-life side of math.  Math is suppose to represent the real world, but until recently, I never really thought of how it can or does.

 There is a scripture that says, "For it must needs be that there is opposition in all things." (2 Nephi 2:11).  Today, the truth of that statement shimmered.  It caught my attention and came to life as I thought of current life experiences; like I had a macro view of my life as one big algebra equation.

In a math equation, to find what is true about an unknown, we isolate that unknown variable through the use of what could be called opposition, right?  If something is being added to the unknown number, we subtract on both sides. If something is being multiplied to it, we divide on both sides. That opposition clarifies or makes known truth.

The Heart of a Child

Part two of my last post is in progress, but something else is itching to come out first. So while Adam has gently and repeatedly begged me to catch up on the business filing (bookkeeping has never been my forte) and I've got filing boxes and piles of paper surrounding me, I first have to clear my head. (I promise I'll be able to move faster this way, honey! :)

There is a part of Arm the Children by Arthur Henry King that I think of and reread often.

Mommy, Come Play! - Part 1

The most frequent thing people say to me when having a conversation  for the first time is, "You homeschool?  Wow, I could never do that!"  The most frequent question or comment I hear when people discover I'm a musician is, "What age should I start my child in music lessons? or "I wish I never stopped playing the piano."  Recently, I've come to see a relationship between all these.

My answers, first.

Regarding the first comment, I'm a second-generation homeschool mom.  What that means is, in the mass of people venturing out into the unknown to try alternative education methods with their children, I'm one who can't say, "Oh, I could never do that!"  That's because I lived through being "homeschooled." I guess you could say I have insider information: teaching your children at home can look exactly like being a mother at home  . . . no special skills required.   I have no excuses.

This is the secret that makes me feel somehow dishonest and quite uncomfortable when taking that. . . compliment? . . . from other women.  You see, I know that it makes about as much sense to tell me, "Oh, I could never do that!" in regards to teaching children at home as it does to use that comment in regards to being a mother in general.

What I mean is:

Mothers, did you know all you needed to know to birth, nurse, feed, potty-train, discipline etc. a child when you got pregnant?  Fathers, did you have all the money, patience, house space, cars, clothes, bikes, insurance, and stored up hours of sleep that you needed before having children? No.  But somehow billions of people continue to thrive and grow and contribute on this planet and they all come from mothers and fathers who began by being totally unprepared and often feel incompetent in their roles as parents.  How does this happen? They make it up as they go. They use resources they find along the way. They get on-the-job training. They fail and learn, fail and learn. Those that don't give up and stay committed, find 18-30 years later that they have succeeded in creating another adult who is usually quite awesome. None of us are ever perfect, or "done" but that's a discussion for another day.

Now, I'm not sitting down to write a post to convince all families to homeschool.  I'm sitting down to write my opinion that the easiest part of being a mother is teaching your children; that you already do teach your children (whether you realize it or not).  So if your intuition or conscience or your "inner guide" has something to say about how your children gain an education and it happens to have something to do with trying options that would entail keeping your child at home for some or all of the day in their early years - maybe you shouldn't feel so crazy to listen.  In fact, I'd have to be one to argue. . .  you could do that.

I've found that, yes, our children become more like us when they continue to be around us most (so if you're "weird" they might be "weird" too).  They become like mirrors, reflecting our weaknesses, strengths and quirks. When looking in that mirror, we see things we feel need to be changed. So - keeping your children mostly at home might become an impetus for you to change some things about yourself. Then they change.

Keeping them out of public school might mean you will have to learn patience; learn how to put relationships above house duties; learn how to teach your children to help you care for the home; learn how to get along with each other; teach them (and yourself) how to spend time wisely etc.  But, wait - isn't that what everyone is learning to do as a family?  Aren't those all skills (and countless others) every family must learn to function properly? That every society must learn to function well?


But maybe you believe you "could never do that" NOT because you're afraid you'd ruin your children, but because you're afraid they'd ruin you. No time for self. Never a clean house. Never a quiet moment. Do you know what I think? Family life is designed to teach us to lose our self. Something inside us never feels quite right with being self-centered.

 Oh yes, "but if you don't fill up your tank first, you'll have nothing to give."  I have a problem with that mentality in two respects.  First, you can fill up someone else's "tank" much faster than you can your own.  Second, doing so invites others to want to fill up your "tank" (which remember they can do faster than you can). This cycle of giving forms healthy relationships and builds better, happier people at the same time. 

I have come to believe that children need you more when you're around them less. I've noticed when I leave for a few days, or when I'm gone from my children for a long period during the day and then come home - those are the times they demand more of me and being a mommy is more intense.   

In other words, children have their tanks, too. I can either spend sixteen hours or six working to fill those tanks. Once they are full, children want to go explore and learn and create (practice filling other people's tanks) on their own.  If that's true, which time period of "filling tanks" would feel more intense? Six, right? Now, take the six-hour intenser version and imagine that same intensity for sixteen hours and you get the "ooh" and "aww" and "I could never do that" comments from people.  But that version rarely exists in my experience.

For example, my first child surprised us by showing up on the scene when she was supposed to wait to come until I was done with my degree (according to our neat little plan).  My devoted mother watched her each day while I was at school and she had all kinds of loving attention, but what she wanted most was her mommy.  My child's solution? She nursed every two hours I was with her for the first two years of her life.  Even at night.  She made up for lost time and at night, I learned how to nurse lying down (and mostly in my sleep).  Whether I could have (or tried) to change that was between me and that "inner guide" of mine, right?  It said not to wean her.  I fought it, but Elise fought harder and I'm glad I eventually listened. From my perspective now, I see how really small that sacrifice was.  It even became a sweet and simple thing. And I can see how such a small and simple thing was huge in its effects on her life.


So I have my children at home all day. Yet, when I want to, I find time to write, do bills, read, email, visit a friend or waste my time in various ways like other moms.  I have hobbies. Take classes. Develop my talents. Believe it or not,  I actually exercise and dress, eat, clean etc. I get things done.  Quite a lot, actually. Yet my kids are home all day long, they get a lot of attention from me, and they are thriving and learning like normal children (whatever that means). For some reason (well, for the reason in bold above), people think that's a miracle.



Lastly, I find it ironic that parents go through the most physically (and sometimes emotionally and spiritually) demanding period of parenthood (and especially motherhood) when their child needs them 24/7 and then as that child (and the parent) begin to blossom, and begins to learn how to care more for their self, our culture teaches us to fear being around them 24/7.  You've made it through the toughest, most demanding beginning of their life and as the curve tends toward increased independence - THEN you waffle?  They're mostly done with the tantrum stage and now you don't think you're up to being around them all day? (BTW, I've found the best remedy for a tantrum is a hug - fill that tank.)


So call me crazy, but I think it's harder to use public school to teach your children in the younger years.  I think if a mother's intuition prompts her that public school is the route for her child when she's still a new mommy trying to learn how to raise a family (which is the case for most mother's I guess), then she has the harder job. Women who make that scenario work are the ones I think perform miracles. I'm the lazy mom. All the things that a family needs to learn if they're going to be happy and enjoy being a family are SO MUCH HARDER TO LEARN when you barely have time to be together as a family.

 This just makes sense, right?  How do you get better at the piano? You have to sit at the piano.  How do you get better, faster?  You sit at the piano longer.  Granted, how you practice, what motivates you, and whether you enjoy piano or not will determine how effective that practice is, but sitting at the piano less isn't going to help those variables.  More time experimenting, finding things that don't work, trying a new approach, experiencing some success (that will motivate you to want to play more) all requires MORE time at the bench. Not less.

Regarding the second comment ("How early should I start my child in music lessons"). . . well. . . I guess you'll just have to wait for part two.  I may still have 2 1/2 hours before my children know mommy's morning time is over and start wanting my help, but who likes (or ever finishes) long blog posts? My mom. 

A Good Cry

There are good times to cry. More importantly, good times to cry with your children.  I re-learned that this last weekend while spending a Saturday lying low and doing my little routine that keeps encroaching viruses away.

A little background color first. For the second year in a row, we've done Christmas a little differently.  One Christmas a few years back, my side of the family decided to forgo gifts for adults and instead only get gifts for the children. This had the unexpected result of many more gifts for the kids than usual. Watching my children rip through present after present and not know what to do with it all (and later see many things get forgotten or lost) left a lasting impression. I tried something different the next year.

The change in our tradition has come to be called The Seven Days of Christmas. Basically, we have 7 family nights that we do on random nights in December. They each have a theme (like "Popcorn and Puzzles",  "Books and Blankets", "Fleece and a Film" or "Toys and a Treasure hunt") and begin with carols at the piano and/or a Christmas story or message before opening one present per person or for the whole family that has an activity to go with it. The month starts with the more selfish gifts/activities (like opening their toy gift after a treasure hunt) and as Christmas gets closer becomes smaller family gifts or service projects until there is only stockings on Christmas morning. For instance, one of the later activities was when after singing, I brought out fleece that we tied for Primary Children's Hospital while watching It's a Wonderful Life. This is a Kate version of things, mind you, so besides the one day to decide the themes and buy the gifts, I kind of made it up as I went.

I've love it because we get time to cherish each gift that we give to our children; to play, read and sing with them; to slow down the Christmas season and create lasting memories where the focus stays on relationships with each other and with the Savior. 

(I just realized you may be saying to yourself, what happened to Santa!?  Well, that started with my grandma and is too tricky a subject for me to tackle here. Suffice it to say that Santa is like Cupid, St. Patrick or ghosts at Halloween - background images that flash my children at the grocery store or in the media, but have little part in our family traditions. Honestly, my children probably believe in ghosts more from the stories of their father's youth than Santa Clause :).

There were some glitches to my plans of course. I had to be away for the first night so the treasure hunt didn't happen and on the "Books and Blankets" night the kids were so excited about making a tent (hence the "blankets") to read their new books in together that they begged and pleaded until I finally let them make a tent ahead of time. By the time the last book arrived from Amazon so we could do the activity, the tent had been slept in three nights and put away to make room for family events. I told you - I made it up as I went.

That's where last Saturday comes in.  As I lay in bed that morning, circled by my books that I had just begun to study, my only son surprised me by coming in and asking if I'd read The Island of the Blue Dolphins to him.  It was one of the books I'd purchased for the Christmas night that didn't happen. I'd been reading it to the girls in their room and he'd heard a little and wanted more.  I told him sure, if he let the girls know so they could listen, too. 

 As I began to read with my two oldest Daysies gathered on the bed and the younger ones in and out, weaving the story into their pretend play, I thought back on the days I still remember gathered with my siblings around my mother in this very same house - even at times this very room.  Like we did then, my children wouldn't let me stop after a chapter, but begged me on and on. We ended up reading the rest of the book right there.  Also like when I was little, it proved to be an activity that bound us more deeply together.  

Nathan loves being read to, but has yet to learn to love reading himself.  I was grateful, then, for the timing of this experience. Through much of the last 50 pages of the book I was a wreck. At first, Nathan regarded my tears with curiosity - it wasn't a new thing to see mom crying while reading a book, but this time he was involved in the story, too.  We were experiencing it together. Little House on the Prairie and C.S. Lewis Chronicles hadn't explored emotions this deep. Nathan began to snuggle up a little closer. Then to turn toward the window. I was pretty sure the movement coming from his body was a sob or two. When 3/4 of the book was read I had to stop as my voice was too choked with emotion to go on without stopping for a good cry.  I realized that I was right, Nathan had already joined me and I stroked his back as he shyly tried to muffle his cries in the pillow next to me. Elise comforted us and brought us tissue.  "Books can be powerful things, can't they Naynay?" I said. He replied with a reverent "yes" between quiet sobs. 

I think the power of a book is increased when reading it aloud with people you love.  It would be impossible to describe what happened to us in my room that day or what we shared, but it was nothing like crying over a movie together. 

I felt like my life experiences were woven into the story - not that I am like the young woman the story described, but that my relationships and my experiences all informed the experience of reading that book. It wasn't what I got out of the book, but what it pulled from me. Like a mirror showing me what I contain inside and turning it out for display.  And instead of examining what I found on my own, I got to go on the journey with my children. They got to examine with me and we learned things about each other there are very few ways to learn otherwise.  It was a good book.  It was a good cry.

How to Keep a Cold Away

I've been so successful at keeping viruses away (or on the down low so that I don't have to spend more than a day resting) for almost two years now that I thought I'd share what's worked.  I'm actually doing these things this very day because I've felt the virus Nathan and Adam had a week ago trying to give me my turn (right before needing to sub for the church organist and perform a musical number tomorrow, of course).

(I've also had friends tell me I had to post about the ways I've learned to deal with tendonitis so look for that post soon.)

To make things easy, I've included links and pictures so you know what to look for at your local grocery and herb stores as most things are available that way.  You can also use the links to order things online if you don't know how to get them nearby.

First, catch it before it catches you!  

While watching my kids do crazy stunts, or when helping them to climb up and down the stairs for the first time, my mom would always gently remind them, "Listen to your body." I find it's a good phrase and applies here. You know the feeling when there's a virus creeping in (unless you don't - in that case - listen to your body better).  Maybe you feel it in your nose, your throat, your neck.  That's when you act.  That minute - not the next hour or the next day.

Next, choose your weapon! 

(To be clear - I'm not a medical professional - ask a doctor, or use these suggestions at your own risk!)

I try to keep the following all on hand because using them at the first sign of sickness is the key - I can't stress that enough. I alternate or mix and match - you begin to get a feel for what remedy works better with different issues (or with kids) and at different times of the day, over time:

Liquid Cayenne - This is for when you REALLY can't take a day off work. I add two drops of this in a neti pot in addition to the saline packet (not kidding).  I suggest using a neti pot normally (or with only one drop) at first so the cayenne isn't your first experience with a nasal rinse :).   I've done a half a dropper before, too, and lived to tell the tale. I do it about once a day, but usually only have to do it once and I go from feeling like a tornado is about to hit to 98% myself a few hours later (or less).

 On Guard Essential Oil.  You can find this here.  It is a blend of wild orange, clove, cinnamon, eucalyptus and rosemary. My brother is a doctor and has started seeing positive results adding essential oils into his practice.   Can I just say that a doctor who also is open to adding natural healing remedies into the mix of synthetic options is so refreshing?? Anyway,  I have found this blend is a great addition to my prevention routine.  I will either put 2-3 drops under my tongue and then drink 8 oz. of water (make sure to slosh the water around).  Or I'll mix it with a few drops of fractionated coconut oil and rub it on the neck, chest or on my kids feet (this kept my three girls from getting the nasty virus Adam and Nathan had over Christmas break (Elise told me the minute she felt it coming on, Nathan didn't ... Adam worked too long before doing anything).

• Effervescent drops - One popular brand is Airborne (I like the berry flavor).  You drop it in a half cup of water and drink it after it dissolves.  I'll take this every four hours unless I feel like using one of the following instead.  I split the drink in half for my kids.

• Zicam Spray  one squirt each on the inside of both cheeks, under tongue and on the roof of the mouth. Hold it there for 15 seconds or more and then swallow.  

• Echinacea Plus Herbal Tea (I've never had much luck with Echinacea pills). I'll cover a cup of hot water that has a tea bag in it for a couple minutes, then remove the bag and stir with a tablespoon of honey and drink it down (every three or four hours). Don't know if you're suppose to, but I save the bag to use for the next glass three hours later before throwing it away.

Call me silly, but it doesn't feel right to use just one remedy, so I mix them up (like last night I exercised my courage by using the Cayenne in a rinse when I'd rather just crash in bed I felt so terrible all the sudden.  Then in the morning I didn't feel sick, but thought I'd better rest anyway and did Zicam, then three hours later I did the Echinacea tea, then airborne a few hours later, now I'm sipping another cup of Echinacea.  Maybe my combo technic is why it's so successful :). Right now I'm confident I'll be playing the organ for church and then rushing off to another church to sing in a quartet. Yay! It really works (for me, at least).  Go ahead and comment if you find any success with this "magic formula." Maybe no one is as crazy as me to keep all this on hand though haha.



If you don't catch it early, but still want to reduce the mess a virus creates in your body, I've found the following helpful:

• Throat Coat.  This is SO yummy and is great if you have to sing with a throat that isn't feeling so red hot (or if you have to sing a more than normal and need to give your vocal chords some TLC).  

• Lemon Essential Oil. Two or three drops in a tablespoon of honey.  It helps sooth the throat.  I used this with Adam recently when he was sick with a nasty head cold and it immediately helped reduce the pain.

• Melaleuca oil. I actually used Melagel form on Nathan's poor chapped nose from all the constant blowing.  You can apply the oil to the chest for respiratory issues or use in a diffuser.   

There you go!  Some of those remedies are only available through buying on membership-type sites like Melaleuca.com and doTERRA, darn it.  At least doTERRA is nice in that you can buy without a membership (just pay a little more). You can get Melaleuca oil on doTERRA, too, so there's the solution to that problem! Good luck this cold/flu season everyone and don't forget...

"Listen to your body!" 

Thanks for the advice mom :) 

The Bells of Christmas

It's Christmas Eve and I wanted to give something to friends and neighbors to express my love and my testimony of the Savior whose birth we celebrate. How about some Christmas music?  

First, if you want to hear the closest thing I've found to what the angel's must have sounded like announcing Christ's birth, listen to Eric Whitacre's,

Lux Aurumque

Second, a piece I wrote, but it needs a little background first. I participated in a neighborhood Christmas concert on November 30th of this year and was inspired by the story shared before we sang an arrangement of "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day." It was a retelling of the story originally told during Mormon Tabernacle Choir Christmas Concert (you can watch the segment here).  To summarize, the family of the well-known poet, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, were living a happy normal life when tragedy struck in 1861. In the Summer of that year, their house caught fire and took the life of Fanny, Henry's wife. In trying to rescue her, Henry received burns to his hands and face.

...For Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, as [civil war] rages without, another [war] raged within. For the next two years, Christmases come and go. Henry writes: "How inexpressibly sad are all the holidays. 'A merry Christmas,' say the children. But that is no more for me. Perhaps someday God will give me peace."

Then, two years later, Henry learns his son who ran away to join the army has been wounded. He finds his son barely alive after days of searching in Washington.

We should not be surprised that on Christmas day, 1863, Henry reaches for his pen and writes: "It was as if an earthquake rent the hearthstones of a continent. And in despair I bowed my head. 'There is no peace on earth,' I said. For hate is strong, and mocks the song of 'peace on earth, good will to men.'"

Listening to the story, I thought of how painful holidays can be for those who have recently lost someone dear.  The sound of Christmas bells, to Henry, must have stirred feelings of sorrow and loss, not celebration. I wonder when that changed for him.  When did he come to the place where he could remember what he felt shortly after his wife's death,

 So strong is the sense of her presence upon me that I should hardly be surprised to look up now and see her in the room. Death is a beginning. Not an end. 

When did that feeling resurface and come together to change the ringing of bells to a hopeful sound?  That is exactly what the bells went on to symbolize for Henry and his family; what the lyrics he wrote have come to remind us.  As Ed Herrman read so beautifully,

In those bells the message is clear. On Christmas day, a Child was born in a stable. Of that Child Henry writes: "Though in a manger Thou draw breath, Thou art greater than life and death." And so He is! As the bells ring on, Henry dips his pen again, and again. Because Christmas lives on, Fanny lives on, Charles lives on, a nation lives on, and we, each one of us, may live on as well, in hope and peace forever.

Three days after this concert Adam and I were to play prelude, postlude and a few musical numbers at a memorial night put on by a hospice for the families of those who had passed during the year.  

As fate would have it, Adam got bronchitis the night before the Christmas Concert and couldn't sing in the choir (after two months of rehearsing :) or do the hospice music, but I was told by the hospice that I could do the gig as a solo. While pondering a new program sans Adam, I couldn't help feeling that the story behind the words Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote and the song itself, would be perfect for those mourning the recent loss of a loved one.  Now that I knew the emotions and events behind Longfellow's words, though, the melodies and arrangements I found of "I Heard the Bells" did not feel right.  I wanted something I could sing and play for these families that would express that loss of a loved one, and then the hope made possible through Christ. 

The piece I played for the hospice I still don't feel has found that "sweet spot," but I thought I'd share its current version before the season is over.  

 "The Bells of Christmas"

 

 

(Yes, the link is gone to Bells of Christmas ... maybe it'll be back next year? Needs...scrubbing!)

Great New Family Reading List!

I rarely post things of this nature, but I was just made aware of a new resource that I'm so excited about I had to share.  There is a new online list of classic books (what I mean by that word is not necessarily that they're old, but that they're worth reading more than once).  The best part is, the list is divided into stages of life the books are best suited for, are pictured and linked to Amazon so you can quickly compare prices and read reviews.

I guess I don't have any more excuses for wondering what the best book for my age of children would be to read next in our family group study.  Now it's just narrowing it down to one!

 Click here to check it out!

A big thank you to Diann Jeppson!!

Our First Relationship

I don't see coincidences as much as loving guidance and tender mercies these days. I woke up a few mornings ago, determined to give more time to my relationship with God as I had let the busyness of life once again turn those efforts into quick and perfunctory actions. The tender mercy came when a scripture I read in the place I happened to be, led me to ask a random question, "why is it always stated 'the law and the prophets'?" which led me to type in that phrase in the search engine of gospelink.com (my favorite site these days).  The first search result that I clicked on happened to have not much to do with my question, but touched me so profoundly that I actually copied by hand, four pages of the selection in my dragonfly journal.  That would be a record.  It just didn't feel right to stop until then, it was all so relevant and I wanted to have it handy to soak into my skin for days and weeks and months to come. As the days go by, it continues to apply in varying ways to my life, but also to the culture and world I find myself living in. I keep feeling like posting it here as the next in my series of "Words That Move Me," but decided there is nothing I can or should say about it as that would muddy application for others.  So, I'll just share it. You're welcome to find this a nice quote but not be sure why I would be so moved by it.  You're also welcome to heartily disagree. Timing is everything.  At this time in my life, I find it profound and a perfect capstone to the theme of most of my previous posts.

    The first commandment does not read,

Words That Move Me...(Part 3)

Snapshots . . . 

 A four-year-old cherub gives you three juicy kisses on your cheek while you tell her a "real story" at bedtime. When you go to leave, she tells you her version of a "real story" while stroking your hair, placing a strand now and then behind your ear.

A sweet, green, little parrotlet chooses to fly across the room to your shoulder. You feel her nestle in your loose, long hair as you sit at the piano, giving comfort and support during your wrestle to memorize a new sonata.

A son who usually is too shy to show love to his mama, volunteers to break away from the family group to go with you while you exchange an item. He surprises you by taking your hand in his, holding it the entire time you walk through the mall.

Victor Hugo

All these and other recent tastes of "divine love," have brought a growing feeling I thought was indescribable until I read Victor Hugo's words for it in Les Miserables recently:

The heart, that dark celestial flower, bursts into a mysterious bloom . . . You are caressed through the soul. You see nothing, but you feel yourself adored.

(Book Five, Chapter IV, P.167)

Once again, I felt gratitude for an author's ability to express what I did not know how to.  That "mysterious bloom" is such a perfect phrase for it.  Like you're tapping into a stream of divinity. Like pure Light is flooding inside that "dark celestial flower" of your heart.

I expected a good story when I committed to read Les Miserables with a dear friend who I often enjoy sharing good books with, but I didn't expect I'd be underlining, rereading and pondering so many passages.  (Not all the pondering has been in agreement with the author, but I had better stick to my topic.)

The past week, I have found myself reading over and over the two pages where the above quote is found. As I pondered the paragraphs, a memory put away long ago resurfaced and brought a familiar regret. 

Words That Move Me...(Part 2)

A favorite companion in the group study my children and I do each day is what we call our "Little Red Poem Book."  It has been called that since I was little when my mother read from it to her five children.  I'll be devastated if I can't find a red, hardback version for my children when they leave the nest (it's actually called, One Hundred And One Famous Poems and published by Contemporary Books, copyright 1958 if anyone wants to know).  There is a unique pleasure in opening the book, flipping through to see which old friend I want to read again, looking at the notes scrawled in the margins, reading the inscription from my mother when she gave it to me on my sixteenth birthday: 

"Thought my precious 16-year-old patch rabbit would enjoy her very own copy of our "little red poem book" . . . We've created lots of family memories with this little book, haven't we? Continue discovering new treasures in it and keep all our memories close to your heart." 

We did create many memories, Marmee. I do keep them close. I do discover new treasures, even in the old friends - like this week. 

I hadn't read "The Building of the Ship" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow since before I was married.  As I started reading to my children, I found that life's experiences since last reading had given me memories that illuminated the meaning of the poem on a deeper level than before.  It's like AHK says:

Words That Move Me...(Part 1)

I find it nothing short of a miracle how symbols scratched or printed on a page can stir our reservoir of emotion and memory; how inky shapes can come alive in our minds so that they penetrate our very being, changing the landscape, expanding the view. When I read or hear words that pull out something like a distant memory from my soul, I come to feel a kinship with the spokesman; either because they are the mouthpiece of such words that hint at truths I feel I've known before, or because there is a kind of kinship in our common experience that my memories confirm.

It is of the latter variety, that I feel when reading the passage I'll share in this post. (Click here for part 2)

My first experience with death was as a young girl of fourteen.