Stars on the Ceiling

Once again, my classroom ceiling is covered with stars. Spring and stars are now intrinsically linked in my mind. Our modern missions unit involves oral reports, research biographies, a bulletin board and Stars for each missionary researched by a student. This year there are sixteen. Here's what the final board looks like.

Some of the stars are exceptional. Look at this one, which remembers the life of Eric Liddell, a Missionary to China. All the detailed props have been fashioned with clay. I was especially impressed with the spokes of the bicycle and the laces and cleats on the running shoes.

















This star--representing Corrie Ten Boom--was made by one of our students in his welding class. Each section of the second triangle was a separate bit of aluminum.









Cameron Townsend spent much of his ministry in Mexico, so his star was made of tamale-wrapping corn husks.










And Betty Green's is pilot's wings.













Florence Young's star, all hand threaded yarn, looks like the jungles on the islands she visited those many years ago.










Jim Elliot's star is made of spear tips, burned and sharpened in the fire.











Jonathan Goforth's is a fan, spread like his years of influence over Northern China.












We just finished reading chapter eleven of Hebrews in our morning teachers' meeting, and a phrase of it always runs through my mind when we do this unit: "of whom the world was not worthy"

          ³⁶And others had trial of cruel mockings and scourgings, yea, moreover of bonds and   imprisonment:
        ³⁷They were stoned, they were sawn asunder, were tempted, were slain with the sword: they wandered about in sheepskins and goatskins; being destitute, afflicted, tormented;
        ³⁸(Of whom the world was not worthy:) they wandered in deserts, and in mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth. 

 I know that passage is talking about Old Testament prophets and heroes, but I feel that these missionaries would qualify for that hall of fame as well. What a wonderful thing that their sacrifices were not for nothing, that this life isn't an end to itself, but a crowded little lobby where we stand before the porthole of the next.

Someday I plan to see these people, and and I know their faces will shine brighter than our clumsy, hand-crafted stars. 

March Skies-- the evening and the morning

Coming home from play practice at around 6:30 on Tuesday evening, I saw this out to my left as I drove southward through the countryside. Of course I stopped. Who wouldn't, with the moon suspended just so, as if it were an escaping bubble from the sudsy clouds below...

Then I zoomed in a little, steadying the camera for the shot, and catching the shine on the surface a little better. It needed a song, but my brain was simply to exhausted to write one. There was the moondancing song from Celtic Thunder, however, so I played it in the car as I turned and wended my way to the West.

The next morning, I awoke, refreshed and ready to discover this blossoming tree outside my door. Obviously, the warm night winds had shaken its flowers out of their little buds.

I drove at a leisurely pace toward work, which, on Wednesday, begins thirty minutes later. Ahead, were clouds, struggling to contain the persistent sun as it poked and beamed its way through.

The fields are green in March--wheat coated and rain hungry. Meandering through the back roads gave me the freedom to pull over suddenly and take pictures as I approached the cloud bank.

And then...as I was standing there in the early morning quiet, the sun came bursting in, splitting the glass on my camera lens like a star. I snapped it, then jumped back into my little Dusky Wuggins, and drove to school where the inside world awaited--like a different planet.

Baby Crankenstein

Our family living class is taking turns babysitting this little machine. He comes with a carrier, diaper bag full of supplies and a sensor that recognizes a wrist band attached to a caregiver. Each student has three days and nights at a stretch with the cranky little being, who acts, in many ways like a real baby. He has to be fed, changed, burped, rocked, and everything but ignored. His computer records all aspects of his treatment and each student is graded according to how much attention and positive care he awarded the "baby".  The teacher has tried to schedule mostly weekends for this assignment, but that's impossible for everybody, so the doll was in my class this morning. I was able to rock and burp him while the assigned student took a test for my class. It didn't take too long. Then, he settled his cute little plastic head right down on my shoulder and slept. In some ways, I can see that this activity might be good for a student, particularly one who doesn't realize that babies are going to need care.

However, I have a lot of reservations. At first glance, this educational tool seems innocuous, or even beneficial. But, unless it is handled correctly, there could be an undesirable corollary to the activity. I can see students deciding that a child is too much trouble to keep. This one cries a lot, keeps everyone up at night, and never smiles or gurgles with that delightful laughter that convinces a mom she is raising a rare treasure. I think the sleepless nights, the curtailing of planned activities, the sheer enormity of the responsibility might encourage abortions, or decisions to avoid having a child--ever.

Children are a lot of trouble. That's true.
It's also true that the joy they bring is worth far more than all the trouble.

As I held Baby Crankenstein this morning, I remembered a time long ago--thirty two years ago to be exact--when I held my own, colicky, two-month old baby in the middle of a long, sleepless night.
I sat there rocking and wrote her a poem.

So in the morning at two o'clock
We sit together--sit and rock
And your head feels very soft against my shoulder.
Someday, Baby, when you're older
Then, I'll let you go.
But, Please God, let the coming of that day be slow.

Exultate!

Claye and I traveled a ways yesterday evening to listen to a concert by the Lawton Pro Musica--a chamber choir. Since Elijah and Marie are members of this 14-member ensemble, we wanted to hear the performance, particularly since Marie had informed me that Elijah had a solo. Not being too sure of what to expect, and even suspecting that it might be all Latin and German numbers, or, worse yet, modern classical music with its screeches and jagged edges, I almost packed my Kindle. Fortunately, the concert was far from that. In fact, it was quite enjoyable.

The singers were almost all music educators, either in or retired from the school system or music ministers in area churches. The singing was exceptional. Also, and this really matters to me, the songs were meaningful!

From the Gregorian chant, "Creator of the Starry Skies", through hymn medleys and Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee, to I Got a Home in-a That Rock, they encouraged my soul.

The setting--St. Andrew's Episcopal Church--and the lighting--subdued as it struck the ancient wooden beams and stained glass--only added to the mood of peacefulness.

The audience even got to participate in a couple of numbers, one of which was a total surprise to me. I knew that Gustav Holst had written "The Planets", which includes a composition for each of those heavenly bodies. (My grandchildren like to imagine they are space-traveling while that music is playing; they hop to the right planet when they hear the music for it) What I didn't know was that Holst had composed hymn lyrics to go with the main theme for Jupiter. Somehow I had never imagined that. The song is called O God, Beyond All Praising.

Our evening was well worth the trip...and Elijah's solo was excellent.

Here are the Lyrics to Gustav Holst' Hymn

 O God, beyond all praising we worship You today

And sing the love amazing that songs cannot repay;

For we can only wonder at ev'ry gift You send,

At blessings without number and mercies without end;

We lift our hearts before You and wait upon Your Word,

We honor and adore You, our great and mighty Lord.

Then hear, O gracious Savior, accept the love we bring,

That we who know Your favor may serve You as our King;

And whether our tomorrows be filled with good or ill,

We'll triumph through sorrows and rise to praise You still:

To marvel at Your beauty and glory in Your ways

and make a joyful duty our sacrifice of praise.

Is My Name Balaam?

Last night, on our way to a really great concert by the Lawton Chamber Choir, Claye and I both heard my car speak. No kidding. It was very weird. This car has never spoken before, but suddenly it's mouth was opened and it spilled this phrase from both right and left speakers:

"Ready. Name tags empty. Goodbye."

We looked at each other. Did the car just talk? Yes. I heard it from my speaker.

Same here. What did it say?

"Ready. Name tags empty. Goodbye."
That's what I heard too.

Why would it say that? And why in such a cheery voice?

I checked all the gauges, tested the brakes...nothing. The car seemed to be in perfect form as we kept driving down the four-lane highway at seventy miles an hour.

We called Turtle and had him google voice alerts so he could warn us if this strange message was a portent of something that would endanger our trip home in the dark...nothing. We wondered if the message had been something about main tanks...or air bags...but the message had seemed clear:

Our name tags were indeed empty. In fact, we weren't wearing name tags...but how did that matter?
On the way home, my low gas "ding" came on once. The gauge showed three quarters full and I knew I had just filled the car.

Can it be that my car is going bonkers?

I sure hope not. I love that little sabre-toothed donkey on wheels. His name is Dusky-Wuggins.

Wit

Our Sunday Scribblings prompt was: wit, but it was suggested that we pair it with something like "grace". Now I understand that if you really want to be known as a wit, you need a little grace to keep from overdoing it...and if you are subjected to too much "wit" you must have grace to keep smiling pleasantly, but other than that? Well, wits failed me.

 I think I'll write a limerick about it all...

She was known as an elegant wit
Understated, demure, like a Brit
She skewered with grace
And smiled in one's face
As she roasted them there on the spit.

Such an innocent-eyed little chit
Whose jokes were "in fun" and "that's it"
Her victims all smiled
As she stabbed and beguiled.
But they secretly called her a twit.

Morning and Evening in Western Oklahoma

 The sun rising over that fog bank brought me to a stop--a very quick one, however, because I was running late this morning. Here's two morning snapshots. The rest were taken this afternoon and no, I didn't take the shortest route home...just in case you wondered.

This one is my favorite. I just couldn't resist all the converging lines and the wisps of cloud and tree.

Foggy Days

On a foggy morning I walked the quiet streets...
and marveled at the absentee horizon.







                                                                         The sky was like a painted photographer's backdrop-- nothing in the distance.

Even the sun stopped glaring.
Birds lost their wings to angelically-shimmering mists.












The band was gone to contest, so I took my remaining sophomores to frolic in a few minutes of fresh air. It was almost warm, yet the snow remained in sheltered crevices, fostering a sense of the surreal.





Suddenly, a snowball came out of nowhere and smacked someone in the back. Swiftly, he stooped beside the creek and grabbed a sopping handful of the stuff so that he could avenge his daring assailant.

She laughed. Who would have guessed that quiet Mary Kate, the new girl from Alaska had such great aim with a snowball.
He threw it, but it missed and shattered itself to smithereens yards from her booted feet.

Right before the sun broke through to ruin
our mysterious-feeling morning, I made them pose beneath the trees.

We agreed to call it "Sophomores in the Mists."

They're a bunch of sweethearts.

One Winter Wonder Day

 It started snowing around six o'clock yesterday,  Sunday evening, and by ten last night we had all received the message that school would be dismissed on Monday. Hey, it's Oklahoma. We're not used to driving in the slush, ok? Besides, it was too beautiful to waste our winter cozy morning on trying to back out of the driveway and ending up in the mud.
I awoke before dawn, peeked outdoors and sighed. Such a soft carpet--four inches of pure, cold. And it was still. Quiet. I love still and quiet.

What a great day. I did mounds of stuff--graded papers to the tune of the dryer and the washer, and to the smell of stewing vegetables in the slow cooker. I did exercises on the Wii, caught up on all my "words with friends" crossword games, and even had time to run out to school and spend a few hours getting our Valentine shop set up!

 I drove by a house in the country and took a picture of two of my favorite little girls, my church children. They were taking advantage of the wet snow...building a snowman to guard their front door.

You can see by the drifts that the wind was from the north. It amazed me how tall they were on the south side of the east-west road.

Of course, by midday the temperature was in the mid forties and the fields were racing to see which one could change from white to green the fastest. That's rather odd too--white snow on green wheat fields and black cows munching away in the sun.

I enjoyed our brief kiss of winter; it was just right for a Valentine.

Fuzzy Moon and Melting Sun

This has been my life lately--lots of late nights and early mornings with crazy running about sandwiched in between. We ran five concession stands in a couple of weeks, a German feast on a Saturday in between, A regional academic meet held halfway across the state, and now we'll have a major Valentine gift selling endeavor. It's much, much, much too stressful! And it doesn't make for any stunning pictures or spontaneous attempts to fill trite poetic forms with words. In short, I'm exhausted. Sorry. Hopefully I'll get over it soon. Then you'll get a few more silly limericks...like the world needs more of THOSE!

Missing the Grandchildren...

 So I thought I'd post a few pictures from Christmas week that I never got around to posting. (Hey, I only took the tree down and undecorated the house a week ago!)

Princess in a Box

 Once he gets a book, the rest of the world fades away.

 ...and he is left in another dimension...I think the reindeer, Moses, Frodo and the stuffed orc on the organ all contribute.

 I talked them into posing with their mom...Carina, of blog fame, although known to us by her real name.

 Zaya and his Dad. He's just a little skeptical.

 They both played solos for church.

 And sang "Away in a Manger"

And these two are my brother and his wife. She was playing a trick on him concerning his present. I know they aren't grandchildren, but I thought they were cute. So they made the list of cute Christmas Pictures.

The Disadvantage of Wearing Crocs

The disadvantage of wearing Crocs
While out of doors and taking walks
Is the finding of rocks
Beneath your socks.







And the biggest problem with wearing heels
To proms and parties and dress-up meals
Is how one deals
with the pain she feels.









You have to remember, when wearing sneakers,
That they might be annoying to quiet-seekers
Because some are creakers
and some are squeakers!