The Red Hen

I harbor, deep in the back of my mind, a secret desire to raise chickens. I continually talk myself out of it - I hear they're messy, loud, a lot of work. Plus, we have spotted coyotes in our yard, not to mention the raccoons.

But I really, really love farm-fresh eggs and I think selling eggs would be a good little business for my kids.

Glen would never agree, so my now not-so-secret desire to raise chickens will stay a desire.

Instead, I will share this fun little poem I found in Eric Carle's Animals, Animals:

The Red Hen

She turned her head to this side;
She turned her head to that.
Looking round for tidbits,
Juicy ones and fat.

Scritchy-scratch went Red Hen's feet:
Nib-nob went her bill.
She ate of juicy tidbits,
Until she had her fill.

And then she flew into a nest
And laid an egg, and then.
With a cut-cut-cut, ca-dah-cut,
Flew off to eat again.

~James S. Tippett

Enjoy more poetry here: Poetry Wednesday

In the Garden

picture courtesy of Anna, from Chicago Botanical Gardens, 2009

I went to a business women's luncheon today. It was at a couple of storefronts in downtown Wauconda (and yes, we do have a few storefronts on Main Street).

As I was walking out of one of the stores, I spotted a framed page from a hymnal and stopped to see what song was framed.

I showed it to my mom - it was one of Grandma Sabourin's favorites (my dad's mom). I remember she had it sung at her and Grandpa's 40th anniversary celebration. (We weren't sure it was quite appropriate, but it was her favorite!)

We sang it at her funeral.

I thought of her today, when I saw the song, so thought I'd share it with you.

In the Garden
I come to the garden alone,
While the dew is still on the roses;
And the voice I hear,
falling on my ear;
The Son of God discloses.

And He walks with me,
and He talks with me,
And He tells me I am His own,
And the joy we share
as we tarry there,
None other
has ever
known.

He speaks and the sound of his voice
Is so sweet the birds hush their singing,
And the melody
that He gave to me,
Within my heart is ringing.

And He walks with me,
and He talks with me,
And He tells me I am His own,
And the joy we share
as we tarry there,
None other
has ever
known.

Poetry Wednesday

I Remembered My Camera!

Glen's parents came north to our house to help us around the yard on Saturday, and to celebrate Mother's Day on Sunday. I cannot believe that I remembered my camera!

Above, Grandma poses with the children in front of our freshly mown lawn.
After church Sunday, Glen treated all of us to my favorite restaurant - Girodano's Pizza. Yum!

FYI: this is stuffed pizza, not deep dish.
That, my friends, is a very important difference.

(So I don't have an ultra-fancy camera. When I was uploading this picture, I realized that Anna was slightly out of focus, but the Cubs' game is in perfect focus. This is for you, Omar.)

My very shaggy 12-year-old. He has visions of shoulder-length hair.
Glen has visions of clippers.

Igor Gustafski
(a long nickname for a little kid)

Poor Lydia Lynn.
She wasn't feeling well and church plus lunch out after was too much for her.

An infrequent indulgence. I love holidays!

And the piece de resistance - a new doorknob on the garage door!
It only happened because my mother-in-law insisted.
As it happened, changing it out involved a hammer, chisel,
a huge hole in the door, a trip to the hardware store for wood glue,
gluing the broken door piece back, and quite a bit of loud discussion.
I'm glad I was just watching.

I'm still getting used to it.
Thanks Juli! Best Mother's Day gift ever!

A week ago, most of my family participated in a talent show at our church. A couple of the teenagers organized the event, for which I am grateful. It gave my pianists a chance to practice performing, my dancers a chance to dance with their good friend, and my husband a chance to blend his voice with a men's quartet. (And, of course I have video, but no pictures! argh!)

I love that more adults participated this year. Not only the men's quartet, but a juggler and a poet. I made a new friend that night, a teacher by day and a writer/poet all other times.

Audrey Hessler shared a poem that night I enjoyed, so I asked her if I could publish it on my blog. She graciously agreed, and e-mailed me a copy. Thanks Audrey!

HEAVEN’S WAITING ROOM

by Audrey Marie Hessler

Is there a waiting room for heaven?

I have heard people say.

I have wondered the same question since,

I will live there someday.

Will I enter heaven’s gate and be

pointed toward a chair?

Will they point me over there saying,

“Please, take a seat somewhere.”

Will I enter one room and then be

whisked off to another?

Will I meet up with my grandparents?

Siblings? Father? Mother?

Will I catch up with my old friends who

went ahead of me, too?

Will we be waiting together in

a room of powder blue?

Will there be lots of magazines and

background music playing

While I’m with all these people and we’re

waiting . . . waiting . . . waiting?

Is there a waiting room for heaven?

I have heard people say.

I have wondered the same question since,

I will live there someday.

So one day I decided that I

would make it my clear task

To simply say a prayer to God, and

then plainly I would ask.

Well, I thought I felt the room shake with

loud laughter and great mirth.

Then I heard, “Yes, there’s a waiting room

for heaven—it’s called earth!”

poetry wednesday

Picture in My Mind

I have been trying to capture an elusive picture recently - a picture of my 6-year-old heartily laughing at a joke or antic. I can picture him, sitting on our couch, his short legs stretched out before him, his face still, hands folded in his lap, listening intently to a story I'm reading.

Then comes the funny part, and his blue eyes light up with pleasure, a hearty laugh rolling out of his wide open mouth, his head thrown back and shoulders shaking.

It is, my friends, a beautiful picture. A delightful picture. One that makes me want to laugh, cry and hug him all at the same time.

The camera is never nearby when the laugh comes - on one hand I think that's good. How can film capture the essence of his innocent, 6-year-old mirth? On the other hand, I wonder, "Will I remember? Will I be able to picture him this way when he is older?"

I always thought I'd never forget what my children were like when they were tiny. But life is full of so many memories, I cannot contain them all. I look at my albums and think, 'Who are these little people? Who is this cute little toddler, dressed in a sundress, with 20 necklaces around her neck, white dress gloves on her hands and a purse on her elbow - all with the paci in her mouth?'

I am thankful for my pictures, real & imaginary. So, today, I have a picture in my mind of 6-year-old Isaac, laughing with pleasure as he read to me this section from Dr. Suess's classic One fish two fish red fish blue fish:

Who is this pet?
Say!
He is wet.

You never yet
met a pet,
I bet,
as wet as they let
this wet pet get.

(how could you not laugh?)

poetry wednesday

Library

Here are some of the books in my family's library. But if I had a car, I would have gone to our wonderful library and taken a picture for you.

What? You've never been to the Wauconda Area Public Library? What a shame. I do think, and I am not kidding, it's the best library in the area. Even the state. Perhaps even the whole of the USA.

I am not exaggerating.

I love our library. When we lived in Florida, I would walk into the library there, and long for the Wauconda Area Public Library. The DVD collection is awesome, the book collection even better. Plus staff who have been there so long I remember them from my childhood - and they remember me too. Interlibrary loans come so quickly, the childrens' library not only houses books, but puppets you can check out, toys for the childrens' amusement, and of course computers.

What makes it even better now than when I was a child - the summer reading program is for all ages. Imagine that! I, as an adult, can participate in a summer reading program. That was my most favorite thing as a child. I do believe I literally cried the summer they told me I was too old for the summer reading program at the library.

In honor of my library, public and personal, I offer my poem for Poetry Wednesday (which, fittingly, comes from my personal library of school books: all the small poems and fourteen more by Valerie Worth)

library

No need even
To take out
A book: only
Go inside
And savor
The heady
Dry breath of
Ink and paper,
Or stand and
Listen to the
Silent twitter
Of a billion
Tiny busy
Black words.

Death by Meeting

Patrick Lencioni writes for business owners, and he's a good writer. I read his book The 3 Big Questions for the Frantic Family and wrote about it here. So when I came across his book Death by Meeting at the library recently, I knew that even if I couldn't use the ideas in his book, it would still be a good read.

And it is. Like Five Questions, Lencioni wrote it in story form, following a successful business owner who isn't quite as successful as he could be. The catalyst for change is a temporary employee, a friend of the family with an interesting education background. He uses his background to help the business rethink their meetings, meeting structure and meeting purpose, using film and television analogies.

Lencioni also includes an Executive Summary in the back of the book for those who want to skip the story and get down to the nitty-gritty.

If you are in a medium- to large-sized business, I would recommend reading this book. You might just avoid an early death brought on by too many meetings... or non-functioning meetings.

Raven's Gate

Once I find an author I enjoy, I try to read everything that person has written. It stands to reason that if I enjoyed one book by him, then I would enjoy the rest. I have found that logic to be pretty sound, but there are a few exceptions.

Anthony Horowitz is one of those exceptions. Horowitz is the author of the Alex Rider series I'v written about before - James Bond for junior high and high school students.

I was in the young adult section of our library, looking for the next book in the Alex Rider series, when I found Raven's Gate, book one of The Gatekeeper series. I picked it up, thinking I'd be proactive, reading it before my 11-year-old asked.

And I am so glad I did.

Horowitz is a great writer, and Raven's Gate is no exception. It's the subject I dislike.

Raven's Gate is about a teenage boy, Matt Freeman, who finds himself in a very sticky situation - a robbery where his friend kills a guard. He's offered a chance at a new program for first-time juvenile offenders - go to live with Mrs. Deverill in Lesser Malling instead of going to jail. He doesn't really care, so they send him to Lesser Malling.

Strange things start to happen, and Matt discovers he has some strange abilities.

Raven's Gate is a very creepy book - very creepy. There are references to human sacrifice, clairvoyance, ESP and worship of ancient beings, among other things.

Here's the thing - I believe in a spiritual world and spiritual beings. And I believe that messing with these beings is dangerous, as depicted in this book. I also believe that Jesus Christ defeated Satan and his followers at his Resurrection, and I believe followers of Jesus are able to defeat spiritual forces by His power, and not their own.

In Raven's Gate, Matt is able to escape and defeat his enemies with the help of other people, and his own special powers.

Horowitz himself, in the interview in the back of the book, describes the Alex Rider series and James Bond for teenagers. He then compares The Gatekeeper series with Steven King for teenagers.

I do not want my children tempted to start down that dark path, so these books will not be on our reading list.

Looking Out My Front Door

The results are in! I finally had a chance to calculate the winner of the Leichty Family March Madness Pool. Isaac, as I predicted, came out on top. The clear winner. I took this picture of him with his picks paper, and then he asked me what his prize was.

"Bragging rights," I told him.

"What's that?" he asked. "I'd rather go to Dairy Queen."

A boy after his Papa's heart. That's where we always went as kids to celebrate a victory, end of school or just because I was his 'favorite eldest daughter.'

So, the final results:
1. 6yo Isaac: 41 wins -22 losses
2. 8yo Lydia: 38-25
3. 10yo Anna: 37-26
4. ?yo Mom: 35-28
5. 42yo (on Sunday!) Dad: 35-28
6. 12yo Nathaniel: 23-40

Anna gets the prize for picking the most upsets. (For those who care, Anna was 16-6 in the first round - unbelievable! If she had only picked Duke out of the South, she would have beat her younger siblings handily.)

Nathaniel gets the prize for most loyal. He picked Florida to win it all. Again. Every. single. year. he picks Florida. The first year we each did picks, Florida actually won. He was elated. Now, no matter what, he picks Florida, and could care less if they lose in the first round. What loyalty! What devotion! What... well... craziness?

Glen and I are in a draw this year. He owes me some ice cream. Just because I love ice cream and I look for any excuse to get some. So since he didn't beat me, he owes me. :)

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Looking out my front door, I'm reveling in the daffodils and tiny hyacinths (I think) blooming down my sidewalk. The daffodils are starting to show their age, so I tried to get some pictures before they fade away....



Happy, happy Spring!

Life

Life has been oh! so busy these days. I was in a fury of detail-arranging a week and a half ago, as I prepared to be gone a week from my family.

A week - a whole, long week! Me, myself & I, staying with my dear friend, Sarah, while I went to a conference on communicating effectively - public-speaking more precisely.

It was fantastic - I learned so much! It was a crazy, crazy schedule. I barely had time to think - let alone blog - while I was there.

So, here I am, almost back into routine at home, catching up on stuff I missed last week, and ready for Poetry Wednesday.

To submit to a life of idleness
Is no intent of mine.
I shall keep the home fires burning,
Though I live on borrowed time.
-Rube Rustic

Rube Rustic is the pen name for Rene Jay, a pig farmer in Kendall County, Illinois. His descendants have donated the family farm to the Kendall County Forest Preserve, and one of my clients is illustrating/writing/creating the panels for the welcome center at the farm. I was lucky enough to be hired to help copy edit and write the story of the Jay family.

Rene himself was quite the Renaissance man. He wrote poetry, farmed, played violin and rode Harleys. Plus, he was well-versed in botany - plants and birds especially - and the history of his family and his county. Interestingly enough, he died on his tractor in the middle of the field. He was in the middle of working, because by the time he was found, the engine was silent because the tractor had run out of gas.

I'm sorry I don't have a picture of Rene - but if you're ever in Illinois, especially Little Rock, Illinois, stop in at Jay Woods, and read more about him, his family & his farm.

I see a field trip in my family's future!

One More Year

One more year - until I am officially a mother of a teenager. Nathaniel celebrated his 12th birthday yesterday - where on earth has the time gone?

We celebrated by going to Old Country Buffet - Nathaniel was so excited. And, in typical 12-year-old style, he tried to not eat much before we went. Then he ate so quickly, he got a stomachache. Fortunately, the restaurant was pretty empty, so he was able to lay down in a booth nearby for a few minutes to let his stomach settle before going back for more.

Ah, boys.

And of course, this mother brought her camera, enjoyed her dinner and managed to get through the entire celebration without taking one, single solitary picture! Big. Ol'. Sigh.

The good news is that the daffodils are blooming! The first one bloomed this morning - just in time for a picture.

The bad news is that I'm leaving on Monday for a week. I'm afraid they'll all bloom without me! My friends have promised to take pictures - it won't be the same - but it's something.

Enjoy these days my friends. I cannot believe how quickly they fly by...

The End is Near

No, not the end of the world - but the end of college basketball. Until fall at least.

Since the Final Four are this weekend, and the Championship Game is on Monday night, I thought I would share this final basketball poem (for now - I have a few others in mind for another time).

I have to say, even if you do not follow college basketball, you have to admire those Butler Bulldogs. An amazing team from a small conference - a 5th seed, making into the Final Four! Perfect year too, because the Final Four will be played this year in Indianapolis - a basketball-crazy town that will gladly adopt the home team since neither Purdue or Indiana University are playing. Go Butler! I'd love it if they won the championship.

An update on our family pool - if West Virgina beats Duke on Saturday night, then Glen wins. If Duke beats West Virginia, then probably Isaac will win. If Duke wins the National Championship, he's golden. Both he and Lydia chose Duke to win it all.

I'll let you know next week - when the games are done. It makes me a little bit sad to write that - which is why this poem is appropriate.

After the Game

By Tony Johnston

The game is over.

But the gym still

thrums

with the basketball’s

THUMP –

THUMP –

THUMPY

hum.

poetry Wednesday

Longing for Sunny Faces

Last fall I happened to be in the right place at the right time. Glen and I had had big, ugly bushes removed from the front of our house, and we hadn't planted grass in the bare spot yet. I've always, always, always wanted tulips, hundreds of tulips in my front yard. However, we're in a major deer zone, so that was out of the question.

I was in Sam's Club (rare occasion indeed!) and spotted a bag of 100 daffodil bulbs for under $20. Perfect! I had done enough research to know that deer are not fond of daffodils, and if I can't have tulips, then daffodils are the second best.

So, I bought the bag. Planted 100 bulbs. 100. Oh, was I sore! I was praying that I had planted them deep enough, far enough apart and that all that work would not be for naught.

Out my front door this morning I'm seeing some green shoots! I'm so excited! Nathaniel said today, "Mom there are, like a hundred of these shoots. How many did you plant?"

I couldn't help but laugh.

I cannot wait until those flowers show their sunny, cheerful blooms!

I'll be sure to post a picture.

Hoops

March Madness lasts for such a short time. I cannot believe that we're already down to the 'Sweet 16' round - eliminating 48 of the 64 teams which originally started. (That stat is courtesy of my husband, Glen.)

And what a year this has been! Glen and I have already lost our National Champion in our brackets (Kansas) - what a game! Neither of us begrudge Kansas' loss to Northern Iowa. UNI is almost a home team for us. We met and married in Waterloo/Cedar Falls - Glen was on staff with Campus Crusade for Christ at UNI and I was working for KWWL-TV.

It's the upsets that make the tournament so fascinating - and picking the right ones this year has been hard. Anna's done the best - she picked Murray State over Vanderbuilt. I remember her asking me, "Does a 13 ever beat a 4? Does a 12 ever beat a 5?" I said, "Yes, that has happened, but it doesn't happen often." I think Anna wins our pool of picking the most upsets correctly.

But none of us ever thought that UNI would knock Kansas out of the tournament in the second round.

Just writing about the games makes me excited! My poem this week is a long one - but a great one about basketball. I found it in the library, a book unto itself. I think it captures the feel of the game wonderfully well.

Hoops

By Robert Burleigh

Hoops.

The game.

Feel it.

The rough roundness.

The ball

like a piece

of the thin long reach

of your body.

The way it answers whenever you call.

The never-stop back and forth flow,

like tides going in, going out.

The smooth,

skaterly glide

and sudden swerve.

The sideways slip

Through a moment of narrow space.

The cool.

The into

and under

and up.

The feathery fingertip roll

and soft slow drop.

Feel your throat on fire.

Feel the asphalt burning beneath your shoes.

The two-of-you rhythm.

The know-where-everyone-is without having to look.

The watching

and waiting

to poke

and pounce.

The fox on the lurk.

The hunger.

The leap from the pack.

The out-in-the-clear

like a stallion

with wind in your face.

The bent legs tense

as the missed shot swirls

and silently spins.

The hawk.

your arm shooting up

through a thicket of arms.

The lean

and brush

and burst free.

The skittery,

cat-footed dance

along the baseline.

The taste

for the rock in your hands

when it counts the most.

The weight of you

hanging from fine,

invisible threads.

The eyes.

The arc.

The no-sound

sound of the ball

as it sinks

through nothing but still,

pure air.

Yes.

Hoops.

The game.

Feel it.

poetry wednesday!
Picture courtesy of flickr.com:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/glassware/ / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

It's Friday Already? ( Week in Review)

And Friday's almost gone! Time goes so quickly...

This is the view from my front door this morning. My two youngest are always up for a picture.

Then I spotted my Mom's car coming in the driveway, which distracted Isaac. She was coming to pick them up for the morning so I could study. But Lydia looks so cute here, I had to post it.

Yesterday, we read about batteries, circuits and switches in our Sonlight science book. Isaac was completely inspired by the light hat and Justin dressed up as a miner in our Science DVD. He insisted on putting together his own light hat. I was busy with schooling the older two, so he and Lydia worked on it together, and got it working! He and Nathaniel went down to the crawl space to try it out and Nathaniel took this picture. Isaac is so pleased - he can't wait to show his cousin this weekend. I'm sure they'll be playing 'spy' or 'explore' with it all weekend.

Look at these lovely young ladies! Anna successfully completed Suzuki Book One for the piano and I learned from her friends who take violin that students are to host a recital upon the completion of each book. Sunday was her recital, and her good friend agreed to play with her on her violin. They played three songs together, and Anna played several on her own. I cannot believe how mature my Anna looks here! Her recital went well. And quickly - it took only eight minutes.

A Mad, Mad March

This month is a big month in this Leichty household. This week is a big week.

Why?

The NCAA Basketball Tournament begins tomorrow - a whole day and night of basketball games... and a whole Friday, and a whole Saturday, and a whole Sunday.

Normally, this would not make me happy. However, since we've been married, Glen & I have had a contest every March. He makes his picks for the tourney, and I make mine.

For the first 10 years, I won. Yes, me, who rarely watches college basketball, except in March. It drove Glen crazy because I made my picks like this:

"Mizzou is my alma mater, so I'll pick them. I've heard good things about Duke, so I'll pick them. My cousin is at Oregon, so I'll pick them to win."

Little to do with ranking, how they played in their respective conference tournaments, or what the commentators are saying.

Like I said, it drove Glen crazy.

The problem is, I started second-guessing myself. I think I'm still ahead overall in our contests, but have lost ground over the past few years.

Now we've included the kids in our contest - Glen calls it the Leichty family 'pool'. I wrote down Isaac & Lydia's picks yesterday (they both picked Clemson to beat Mizzou - what's that all about?!)

Anna made a point to tell me that she picked Mizzou. That's my girl!

Hoop Dream

By Rebecca Kai Dotlich

The sound of the ball

as it drums on the ground.

The fans in the stands

who are held spellbound.

The tick of the clock.

The feel of the floor.

One quick, sure step,

then shoot to score!

Poetry Wednesday
flickr photo by http://www.flickr.com/photos/matthijs/

Is It Spring Yet?

It's hard to believe that in just one week all that snow has melted out of our front yard.

This morning, this was the view out of my front door - my younger two children riding their bikes in our driveway. They were so excited to be outside!

All four children spent most of the day outside - mostly on the swing set in the backyard. We took a walk in the neighborhood this morning - enjoying the sun while it peeked through the clouds.

This week's weather has been a tease - making us think that spring is here. I keep telling myself that the cold will come back. It could even snow a couple more times before the real spring is here.

My kids are ready for spring too - not just to play outside. The girls have changed the flannel sheets on their bed, pulled out their flip flops, and asked to get out their shorts! I'm trying to temper their enthusiasm so they're not devastated by a probable late-spring snowstorm.

But today - today we reveled in the relative warmth of the day.

First Robin

This morning, my oldest sent an e-mail to everyone on his e-mail list announcing that he had seen the first robin of the season.

He was so excited.

This afternoon, we went for a walk, and he spotted two more.

Spring is on its way! If I had had my camera I would have tried to capture the moment. However, I didn't. (When will I learn?!)

Today's poem is dedicated to my oldest, robin-spotting son, Nathaniel.

Spring Real Estate
by Eileen Spinelli

Here is a house, dear robin.
The floors and walls are strong.
It's safe from wind
and snug from rain
and yours for just a song.

(I just have to note here, that I am at the library. An unexpected trip to participate in a program my handy-dandy iPhone reminded me of one hour before it started. I found this poem in a poetry book on the shelf in the children's section. I tell you this because I never thought I would look for a poem at the library. I'm learning!)

Poetry Wednesday - there are some great selections this week. It's worth following the link, trust me.

monday

On Friday, I was frantically finishing Isaac's pizza, packing my clothes, cleaning the kitchen, making sure the children were packing their clothes so Glen and I could drop off the children and head out for the weekend.

Yep, by ourselves. With no children. For a whole weekend.

What a treat!

But in my frenzied state, I forgot to have Anna take a picture of Glen and I before I took them to my mom & dad's for the weekend. Thankfully, my camera has a timer.

Once we took the picture, I realized I had shut down my computer. So, I thought I would just work on it at the bed & breakfast where we were spending the weekend. After all, Glen never goes anywhere without his laptop (just in case the world ends at work).

Famous last words.

Well, Friday's gone. The weekend's over. We've been there and back again (I cannot stop with the Lord of the Rings references!), and had a wonderful weekend.

Just the two of us.

Hard Places

Last week I watched The Lord of the Rings trilogy - the extended version. It's my annual depth of winter tradition, enjoyed a little late this year.

Since I watched it again, I have been pondering what about these movies, books, these stories, resonate so loudly with so many people.

I think one reason is the selflessness of the characters - so many stepping out of their comfort zone, leaving the world they know, being tested 'by fire and water' (as Gandalf was). Frodo and Sam leaving the Shire, and for the good of the world, traveling step by weary step, to the Mountain of Doom. Aragorn, overcoming his fear of his heritage to stand against evil and eventually reclaim the throne of Gondor. Even Legolas and Gimli overcome their racial prejudice between Dwarfs and Elves, if I can call it that, and become best of friends.

I could go on and on about the different themes in the book - the reality, horror and power of evil, yet its allure too, which overcome Sauruman and Denethor, and threatens Pippin. The undeniable horror of war, and yet its necessity to fight undeniable evil.

My favorite part of the whole series is in The Return of the King, in the battle before Minas Tirith when the Nazgul is ready to pounce upon King Theoden. Merry the Hobbit is there, frozen in fear of the Nazgul, yet one young warrior stands his ground against the Nazgul and forbids it to come further.

The Witch King says,

'Hinder me? Thou fool. No living man may hinder me!'

Then Merry heard of all sounds in that hour the strangest. It seemed that Dernhelm laughed, and the clear voice was like the ring of steel. 'But no living man am I! You look upon a woman. Eowyn I am, Eomund's daughter. You stand between me and my lord and kin. ... I will smite you, if you touch him.'

I remember when I first read the book - I didn't know Dernhelm was Eowyn (although in the movie you do). What a thrill that scene was - when she smites the Witch King forever. What makes me marvel at it even more is that this was written in the 1960's, before the women's liberation movement. And by a man. I think those two facts make it an even more powerful, wonderful a moment (and defy those women who think men capable only of suppressing women).

It's the hard places, the weary steps of determination, the selflessness required of service to others, which make us better, stronger people. All the self-help books in the world cannot substitute for that. It's our wounds of battle - our emotional, spiritual, physical wounds - which make us beautiful. It's His wounds by which we are fully healed.

The Lord of the Rings beautifully illustrates the sorrow, and the beauty, of this life. And the anticipation of the rest and restoration we look forward to in the life to come.

Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

Poetry Wednesday

Front Door Friday

My dad came through our front door today. Isaac opened the door for him while the other three ran to get their coats and shoes. My parents have graciously agreed to take the children once a week for a few hours so I can get some quiet studying time in to prepare for the Bible study I'm preparing. This week, this morning is my studying time.

This morning was a flurry of activity - Swedish pancakes for breakfast, cleaning up, piano lessons, finishing the schoolwork not completed yesterday - so everyone would be ready to leave when Papa rang that doorbell.

Now, it's quiet here. And I'd better get to work!

Emerging from a Fog

I’m sitting on my couch in my living room, soaking in a rare winter sunny day. As I sit here, I realize that I am ever-so-slowly (too slow for my taste) coming out of a winter fogged by a thyroid condition.

I have discovered more women than I could possibly imagine, including my mother and grandmother, are taking thyroid medications, although thyroid disorders cause different symptoms in different women.

I fought my symptoms for many months. I didn’t realize that my difficulty in sleeping, my exhaustion, and seeming inability to think – the feeling like I was walking through tar – were symptoms of hypothyroidism (a slow thyroid).

Fortunately, I decided I should really go to the doctor for my annual visit (which I last had four years ago). Also, fortunately, my doctor is well-read on thyroid issues, and realized that although the numbers in my blood test were well within the “normal” range, my symptoms indicated that something was wrong.

Dealing with this health issue this winter has made me more thankful than ever for Shaklee. Here are four reasons why:

1. Shaklee supplements have given me a good nutritional base from which to get better. Because I am not nutritionally deficient, I can focus on what helps my thyroid function better, instead of wondering if my symptoms are a result of a nutritional deficiency (which they could be).

2. I know the supplements I am taking are high-quality. My body only needs to use the nutrients I am feeding it, instead of fighting against toxins, fillers, or synthetic nutrients found in other supplements.

3. My body is freed up to heal because it is not fighting toxins found in common household cleaners. Shaklee’s Get Clean products are safe for me and my family. Plus, I can put my kids to work cleaning when I’m having a bad day. (And even when I'm not!)

4. Because Shaklee products work, you, my customers, are loyal to the products, even when I am not functioning as I would like. I appreciate that so much! My business keeps going, and I am still able to pay for my own products, even when I’m not 100%.

There are so many reasons why I am thankful for Shaklee, but today, those are my top four.

sweets

As I sat down this morning with my children to read our school books, I was surprised by how many poems we read today.

I thought it fitting, considering today is Poetry Wednesday. First, we read Psalm 100 and tried to create our own tune (rather unsuccessfully, I'll add. I guess the kids are worn out after having friends over for a couple of days.)

Then I read the younger two a Robert Louis Stevenson poem, and Lydia read from One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish. In the middle of reading she paused, looked up and said, "Hey Mom, do you realize this book is written as one long poem?"

So smart, that one.

And finally, I read to the older two out of our poetry book, which I have quoted several times already in the past few months. I am going to quote from all the small poems and fourteen more by Valerie Worth again, because I enjoyed this poem best of all the poems we read this morning.

My hope is, that by quoting this poem, I will somehow manage to destroy the sweets monster which has been raging in me this past week. (Ya, right!)

sweets
Here
Is a list
Of likely
Words
To taste:

Peppermint,
Cinnamon,
Strawberry,
Licorice,
Lime:

Strange
How they manage
To flavor
The paper
Page.

enjoy more poetry, contribute your own, by clicking here.
the lovely picture of peppermint is courtesy of flickr

http://www.flickr.com/photos/bmb/ / CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

Front Door Friday

Fridays is usually our day off school. However, because Glen had Monday off for President's Day, and because we were traveling, we had schoolwork to finish today. That threw off my schedule - so I almost completely forgot about taking a picture out my front door.

If I had remembered earlier, I could have taken a picture of the children building a snowman by our driveway, or sledding down the little hill next to the road, while their mom said good-bye to me and tried to herd them into their van.

If I had remembered earlier, I could have taken a picture of my children sledding down the bigger hill in our backyard. (Finally! Of course they decide they must sled when half the snow has already melted.)

I remembered now, and am documenting the end of the second sunny day in a row this week. It's funny how I count sunny days now that I've returned north from the land of sunshine, otherwise known as Florida.

I spent eight sunny years in Florida, where I counted cloudy days because our a/c didn't run as much and they gave us a relief from the relentless sun. Plus, they didn't come very often, and rarely more than two days in a row.

Now, I rejoice when we see the sun two days in a row, giving us a break from the relentless clouds which hover over Illinois nearly all winter long. Those sunny days don't come often and rarely more than two days in a row.

Calling Out Your Name

When I was contemplating joining the "Poetry Wednesday" bloggers, I was very concerned that I would not be able to find enough poetry that I enjoyed enough to share. I am not completely enraptured with poetry, and I doubt I ever will be.

However, I felt I needed to stretch myself a bit. And finding a poem to share each week would certainly be stretching. Still I hesitated.

Until I remembered that music is poetry. Poetry combined with notes and rhythms. I realized I would have plenty of poetry to share, even when I don't have time to find a poem for the week.

That's when I started participating in Poetry Wednesday. It has been stretching - and enjoyable.

Today, I share with you the poetry that makes up part of the lyrics to one of my favorite songs from Rich Mullins - an artist who's work accompanied me through my high school, college, and young adult years.

Calling Out Your Name

Well, the moon moved past Nebraska and
spilled laughter on them
cold Dakota Hills
And angels danced on Jacob's stairs...
There is this silence in the Badlands and over
Kansas the whole
universe was stilled
By the whisper of a prayer...
And the single hawk bursts into flight and in the
east the whole
horizon is in flames

I feel the thunder in the sky
I see the sky about to rain
And I hear the prairies calling out Your name

I can feel the earth tremble beneath the rumbling
of the buffalo hooves
And the fury in the pheasant's wings...
It tells me the Lord is in His temple and there is
still faith that can make the mountains move
And a love that can make the heavens ring...
Where the sacred rivers meet beneath the
shadow of the Keeper of the plains

I feel the thunder in the sky
I feel the sky about to rain
And I hear the prairies calling out Your name

I know this thirst will not last long, that it will
soon drown in the song not sung in vain

I feel the thunder in the sky
I see the sky about to rain
And with the prairies I am calling out
Your Name

Mr. Monk and the Dirty Cop

I admit it, I’m a Monk fan. I think that whoever thought up the idea of putting TV series on DVD was a genius. Otherwise, I would never have been able to enjoy watching Monk.

I was a bit taken aback when I spotted a book at the library with Adrian Monk on the cover. I thought, “Really?” but couldn’t help picking it up.

And oh, did I enjoy it! If you’re a fan of Monk, you’ll like Mr. Monk and the Dirty Cop. It’s no work of literary greatness, but its fun.

I can just hear some of the dialogue between Stotlemeyer, Disher, Monk and Natalie – which makes sense since it’s written by Lee Goldberg, one of the writers for the TV series.

I laughed so hard when Mr. Monk made the find of his life – a Diaper Genie. Monk fans will appreciate his obsession.

Mr. Monk and the Dirty Cop is a great read for vacation, a good laugh, or just an escape from real life.

Front Door Fridays

For various reasons, I am up early this morning even after a late night last night. I thought about waiting until a bit later to snap my Front Door Friday picture, but decided to catch the pre-dawn, chilly morning outside my front door.

We had about a foot of snow this week - I was thrilled, because I hate seeing patches of grass between snow drifts in the middle of winter. Those patches make me think spring... and we are far, far from that.

The day after the snow, I opened my living room curtains to a thick white blanket of snow, marred only by the prints of deer as they meandered through my yard at some point in the night.

It was beautiful.

The Flotz

My very dear friend, Mrs. Mionske, gave my family a book several weeks ago. She gave it to me after she had read it, and had marked her favorite poems with sticky notes, bulletins, e-mail messages or business cards.

I love getting books like that. I, of course, immediately sat down and read all her favorites. My oldest then claimed the book and read it cover to cover, in order. (Just what I would have done at his age.) Fortunately, he did have the sense to leave all the bookmarks in place.

I just read my sister-in-law's blog, and discovered that her poetry-friend had suggested a theme for today - love - with it being Valentine's Day and all. Well, this poem doesn't exactly fit the theme. But I will force this square peg in the round hole by saying:

I love getting hand-me-down books from Mrs. Mionske... and I love that we have been friends since I was in junior high. (Thus the Mrs. part. She keeps telling me to call her Jean, but I just can't.) She sought me out because my name was in every single church library book that she checked out. She thought we must be kindred spirits. And we are - bless her! I love the fact that we've remained friends for so long, and that one of my best friends is old enough to be my (very young) grandmother. Hugs to you Mrs. Mionske!

The Flotz
by Jack Prelutsky

I am the Flotz, I gobble dots,
indeed, I gobble lots and lots,
every dot I ever see
is bound to be a bite for me.
I often munch on myriads
of sweet, abundant periods,
I nibble hyphens, and with ease
chew succulent apostrophes.

From time to time, I turn my gaze
to little dotted "i's" and "j's,"
and if I chance upon a dash,
I soon dispatch it with panache.
I chomp on commas half the day,
quotation marks are rarer prey,
a semicolon's quite a treat,
while polka dots are joys to eat.

When I confront a dotted line,
my tongue flicks out, those dots are mine,
Morse code becomes a feast, and yes,
I've snacked upon an S.O.S.
For I'm the Flotz, who gobbles dots,
I gobble them in pails and pots,
And you'll not like my brief embrace
if you have freckles on your face.

You may love other poetry selections. Check them out here.

(And, in case you are wondering, I am happily married to a wonderful man who loves humor more than sappy sentiments - Love you!)

Super Bowl Celebration

I am quite amused at the anticipation my children feel for Super Bowl Sunday. I remember dreading it as a child - forced to watch a football game because there was nothing else on TV. The only time I got excited about football was the year the Chicago Bears won the Super Bowl. That was the year I finally understood the term "first down."

Our Super Bowl Tradition (yes, with a capital T) started several years ago, Glen could tell you the exact year, when the Chicago Bears played the Indianapolis Colts in the Super Bowl. Glen grew up in Indiana, but rooting for the Bears, so the competition between his two favorite teams created much angst in our house.

"Which team will I root for?" he asked the children time and time again.

This, of course, intrigued them, so I decided to put on a Super Bowl spread and we would watch the game together. And, shock of all shocks, we would eat in the living room (a very rare treat, deserving of italics).

Since that game, it has become our annual tradition. The children were counting down the days until Super Bowl Sunday, their excitement increased by the fact one of Daddy's favorite teams, the Indianapolis Colts, was playing in the game.

So yesterday, I made my Ro-Tel cheese dip, ham & cheese sandwiches, put out the trail mix, chex mix, and soft pretzels and we feasted in front of the TV. Anna even generously contributed a bag of Skittles a friend had given her at church that morning.

It's a family tradition we enjoyed immensely - even though the Colts did end up losing. Glen was the only one really disappointed, I think. The kids were more disappointed that there wasn't any cheese dip leftover.

Front Door Fridays

Here are my girls, running in the front door after an afternoon hanging out with Papa and Nana at the church. (The boys were there too - just didn't run in the door at the same time.)

A couple of weeks ago, I asked Mom if she could take my kids for an afternoon during the week so I could have time to study. No - not for school, but for a Bible study I'm writing for the women in our church.

She generously said yes, but wasn't feeling well on Tuesday, so we postponed this week's afternoon until today.

The kids report they had a great time - playing soccer with Papa, 'bowling' in the gym, and I think, maybe, practicing dribbling and shooting a basketball.

Meanwhile, I had a quiet house in which to study a really evil person... Jezebel. Hm, I think this Bible study is going to be ... well ... interesting. (tease, tease!)

Happy Friday!

Smart

We've recently started reading a book about which I have heard very good things. It's called Whatever Happened to Penny Candy? by Richard J Maybury. If you're a part of the homeschooling world, you've probably heard of it or read it. If you're not, then you may not have.

We're only on Chapter 7, and already I think this book should be required reading for every American - especially the politicians. I took economics courses in college, in which I scored very well, but which never answered that question - what did happen to penny candy? I've pondered that question since reading about penny candy in Laura Ingalls Wilder's books.

Anyway, Maybury's book is very easy to read, and even my 4th-grader is getting familiar with terms like inflation, recession, deflation, depression, among others. We've also learned where the dollar came from. Quite interesting.

So, all that to bring me to today's poem. At the beginning of Whatever Happened to Penny Candy?, Maybury quotes one of my favorite Shel Silverstein poems. It always makes me laugh, and my older two and I had a good laugh over it again last week when we started the book.

Smart
My dad gave me one dollar bill
'Cause I'm his smartest son,
And I swapped it for two shiny quarters
'Cause two is more than one!

And then I took the quarters
And traded them to Lou
For three dimes - I guess he don't know
That three is more than two!

Just then, along came old blind Bates
And just 'cause he can't see
He gave me four nickels for my three dimes,
And four is more than three!

And I took the nickels to Hiram Coombs
Down at the seed-feed store,
And the fool gave me five pennies for them,
And five is more than four!

And then I went and showed my dad,
And he got red in the cheeks
And closed his eyes and shook his head -
Too proud of me to speak!

You can find more poetry selections here.