Ubiquitous Moses and other Exodus Museum Exibits

Here's the final ubiquitous Moses mural...along with a salt map of the journey--prerequisite for any museum tour.

Ten Commandments and the explanation of our museum music, by the young composer herself.

Plagues of Darkness, Hail and Fire. Tabernacle model.

Plague of Frogs and a Golden Lampstand

The Land of Goshen and More Moses

The Battle of Amalek with Aaron and Hur Holding Moses' arms high, and a Passover meal.

A Walk through the Red Sea, Water from a rock, and the Nile turned to blood

Big brother explains his project.

Fourth Grade Concert

Parents proudly peer through video lenses

at these precious presents given them

a decade ago.

They smile as they hear childish pitches,

and see the careful poses on high risers.

But I, feeling oddly older than the crowd,

hold high my well-worn camera

to catch the face of the young director,

my son.

Off-Limits

One sunny fall morning in Gunnison, Colorado, my lean, home-schooled sophomore and I decided to climb a nearby peak for our bi-weekly physical education. After all, once winter came to stay for the next eight months, we'd be limited to dabbling in ice-skating and other in town activity. So we parked beside the road which led up into the hills, and took off, right up the backside ramp--an easy slope belonging to this group of cliffs called The Palisades.

 

Our idea was to reach the top and look out over the town without getting too close to the cliffs. Somewhat to our surprise, it was slow climbing for such an easy looking incline, because the ground seemed crumbly in texture, and our steps tended to slide instead of stick. After an hour or so, however, we made it to the top of the ridge--or almost to the top. There, running across the hillside, was a wire fence, one that we hadn't noticed from the road, and about a yard before that, sitting stolidly on a little post planted into the rock, was a sign:

Danger. No Trespassing.

This hill unsafe for climbing!

It turns out that the hill was composed of some kind of volcanic rock--shale, maybe, that frequently gave way to landslides, particularly when disturbed by feet--especially tennis-shoe clad feet of women who didn't know what they were doing on the side of a mountain.
Needless to say we turned around and made our way back to the bottom, not boinging about in our usual fashion either. All the way down we talked about the utter incompetency of the one who placed the sign at the top instead of at the bottom of the hill.


Three-Word-Wednesday prompt-lean, utter, dabble.

Ubiquitous Moses

A couple of my seventh-grade students are painting a mural for the Exodus Museum. It was originally supposed to reflect the three miracles given to Moses for a sign that God had authorized his leadership. These were: a rod changing into a snake, a vial of water turning to blood, and a hand briefly becoming leprous. Somehow, due to a lack of picture references, the mural also changed, morphing into mini-scenes from the life of Moses. Since one of the boys has been absent a lot, I've been helping with the backgrounds and water and leaving the detail work to the boys. We decided that shadow people were going to be easier to paint and just as effective. Anyway, since Moses keeps popping up everywhere I've decided to call it Ubiquitous Moses. Here's a half-finished picture. When it's complete, I'll post the final product.

Morning and Evening

Driving to work early this morning, I was blessed by this sun, nestled like an ember in cloud covers.

Coming home, this evening, I looked ahead and saw gray rain. Within the distance of five miles, I watched as my auto thermometer dove from 44 to 39 degrees. Something tells me there will be ice on the roads tomorrow, or at least settled into the ditches where our rain ran to seek a little warmth.

Guidance

When a class works on a project, particularly a messy project, it gives teachers many opportunities for guidance. Contrary to what one might think, most of this guidance isn't in the form of completely new instructions and information, but in reminding students of what they have known all along. I find myself saying:

"Clean up your own mess."
"If you got it out, put it away."
"Rinse the brushes carefully, or they will be ruined."
"Don't wear your best shirt if you know you are going to be painting."
and, the big one,
"How you behave during a project is directly proportional to how many of them you will do this year"

Which is all good advice for adults too. Most of us know how we should behave. Deep down, we know what's right and what's fair and what's decent and what's not. We know what we ought to do.
We just need someone or some circumstance to make us do it.

Today a student objected when I asked who painted the rocks gold outside our classroom door:
"I did, but you already got me in trouble for that."
"Ah, I didn't get you in trouble."
"Yes you did. You did last Friday."
"I didn't get you in trouble."
"Yes you did, remember?"
"You got yourself in trouble. I just scolded you for it."

Sadly, that is often true for adults also.
"The policeman just doesn't understand that the speed limit should be higher for this section of the road."
"The electric company shouldn't be so concerned if I'm on time with my payments."
"I can't lose weight because the fast food chain only serves fat fries."
Most of our behavior problems aren't due to a lack of guidance but to a lack of personal responsibility.

Our project is "The Exodus Museum", and Moses was one of history's most harassed guidance counselors.

So it's all very fitting that I occasionally "get students in trouble!"

Sunrise Every Morning

 Now I ask you, how would it be possible to arrive at my destination with a grumpy and surly attitude after having been regaled with this amazingly beautiful sunrise as I journed eastward? Well, I don't think it is possible. I kept remembering this song:




The steadfast love of the Lord never faileth. His mercies never come to an end. They are new every morning, new every morning...great is Thy faithfulness, Oh Lord. Great is Thy faithfulness!

It's a good thing I left the house early, because that way I had time to pull off the road and take pictures. On second thought, if I hadn't left home early, I would have missed it entirely.

Pecan Canoe

Our pecan tree decided to drop all its leaves and pecans overnight, or at least that's what it seemed like. On Thanksgiving day they were hanging on, but one cold night and--kazaam--they came tumbling off so fast we could sit inside and watch them fall, floating and diving to land gently below. Now this generated a problem: the pecans and the leaves were mixed thoroughly. Winnowing the leaves with a shovel worked, but who has the energy for that? Our son-in-law, Art, tried for a while, but soon decided there had to be a more practical solution.

So the next step was loading the canoe with piles of the mixed matter, using a leaf blower to eject the chaff, and watching while the heavier pecans rolled down to the lower end of the boat. I'm sure canoe makers everywhere are shuddering, but hey, it sure beats crawling around on the lawn and picking them up one at a time.

Big Cities Forget

We were in Dallas for convention on November 22--the 47th anniversary of JFK's assassination. Our hotel was smack dab in the middle of the freeway noodles and practically on top of the spot where the presidential motorcade had passed all those years ago. From the little park nearby, we could see the building, and the sixth floor window out of which those shots came that injured Governor John Connally, and fatally wounded President John F. Kennedy. That evening, we took a little walk to the actual site where it had happened and saw fresh flowers on the sidewalk next to the road. Several people were meandering around, still solemn, 47 years later.

We could find no statues or monuments, no commemorative structures, and the only historical markers in the area were remembering different people--important to Dallas, no doubt, but of no relevance to tourists like us.  On the pavement, there were two X's marked neatly with regular highway paint, each representing a spot where a bullet had struck its target. A gentleman standing nearby informed us that there were supposed to be three x's, but highway construction had recently obliterated the third one. He also bombarded us with a conspiracy theory which involved LBJ and the mafia, then demanded a hand-out for his impromptu, unrequested, telephone-salesperson-style lecture.

 It was a strange feeling to be standing there on a warm, cloudy evening, remembering the moment we heard the news that day so long ago, and recalling the nation's mourning for days and days afterward--to be standing in the actual spot of that earth-shaking event--and to be seeing only two painted x's on the pavement of that quiet little corner of street, now largely bypassed by the frenetic freeways. Behind, overhead, and beyond our remembering, we could hear the sounds of trains, ambulances, buses and helicopters as they raced helter-skelter from one corner to another, engaged with the living city all around.

 

Finally Finished Furniture

 These last few stages took a while. I painted it with several coats of polyurethane, sanding lightly between coats, and re-staining parts that got a little too much taken off. We had a real problem when it came to handles.  The old handles were three and a half inches across and all the new handles are three. I think we looked in three or four hardware stores and online as well. Finally, we settled for these--because they were the only ones in the store that would do, since the plate covers the old holes and we could drill new holes for the handle. I also spray painted the white, plastic-looking shelves so they would fade into the background better.

 Anyway, when I look at the many flawed areas, and the less than perfect job of rushed sanding and sealing, I manage to console myself by remembering what the thing looked liked before all this. And when I wish the handles matched a little better, I take a look at the former handles--especially the one on the bottom drawer, and I sigh. It does look lovely now.

Staining

We decided that, since this old piece of furniture had so many little cuts and ink stains, we'd stain it a darker color--walnut fit the bill--but before we stained it, there were a couple of places where the wood needed to be patched with wood filler. That's kind of a toss-up, because, not matter how much you buy real wood looking filler, and sand it into shape, it still looks like someone stuck a piece of old gum in the crack and filled it, but we still tried, thinking that from a distance it would look like a knot hole or something. Anyway, here's the sanded product. It's all ready for sealer and polyurethane.



Tomorrow:  The finished product

Sanding

 These two little friends make sanding much easier. They bump off paint flecks and actually smooth flaws. They reach into corners and nose their way into ridges...sanding, smoothing. They also tend to turn around and bite the unsuspecting wielder who doesn't keep a firm grip.

Next is Staining

Little by Little

I'm feeling encouraged enough to tackle the sanding now. The paint is off the flat surfaces at least, although there are still some varnish stains. I've wiped it clean with a damp rag soaked in bleached water, and I think the sander will take care of the rest. It looks pretty good if you don't probe into every little corner.
 

There are a couple of places where wood needs to be repaired, on the feet, the front, and on the top of one drawer. Turtle bought some wood filler that is supposed to hold stain. In my experience, it will stain a different color than the rest, but we are going to try it.

 Next:  Sanding

Elbow Grease

Ok, so this is not fun. Scraping, re-applying, washing, scrubbing..three coats of zip strip and one layer of orange-citrus smelling stuff in a spray bottle which would have been nifty if it had only worked. It did help take old paint/varnish/stain off, but the spray bottle clogged after the first two squirts and had to be shaken, and twisted after every four or five thereafter. It was runny, messy, oily, and only marginally efficient.

Every time I refinish furniture, I vow that this will be my last piece...and it is always at this stage that I vow it.

  Ah well, I'm sure that by doing a little every evening after work I'll be able to get most of the paint off. I am a little concerned with the stains underneath the paint. It looks like there might be some India ink, and lots of run over from the stripper. Maybe I can use a little bleach water on it, or thinner with a good scrubbing rag...hmm.

Tomorrow:  Little by Little