Madeleine L'Engle

As the Happy Catholic recently noted, Madeleine L'Engle passed away on September 6.

One of my favorite books is her touching and beautiful memoir, Two-Part Invention, which is the story of her marriage and of her grief after the death of her husband, who died of cancer in 1986.

When I was baptized in 1990, my best friend's mother gave me a copy of Two-Part Invention, inscribing it, "Welcome Home." Since that day, I've associated Madeleine L'Engle's faith and writing with my own faith.

May her soul rest in peace, and I'll leave you with a few of my favorite Madeleine L'Engle quotes:

***

"You have to write the book that wants to be written. And if the book will be too difficult for grown-ups, then you write it for children."

***

"I will have nothing to do with a God who cares only occasionally. I need a God who is with us always, everywhere, in the deepest depths as well as the highest heights. It is when things go wrong, when good things do not happen, when our prayers seem to have been lost, that God is most present. We do not need the sheltering wings when things go smoothly. We are closest to God in the darkness, stumbling along blindly."

***

"So the challenge I face with children is the redemption of adulthood. We must make it evident that maturity is the fulfillment of childhood and adolescence, not a diminishing; that it is an affirmation of life, not a denial, that it is entering fully into our essential selves. .... Youth are rebelling not against our morality and discipline but against our lack ... somehow, promises, as well as adulthood, must be redeemed."

***

"All artists, regardless of degree of talent, are a painful, paradoxical combination of certainty and uncertainty, of arrogance and humility, constantly in need of reassurance, and yet with a stubborn streak of faith in their validity." ~~ A Circle of Quiet

***

"There is a gap of understanding between me and our friends and acquaintances. I can't quite understand a life without books and study and music and pictures and a driving passion. And they can't understand why I have to write, why I am a writer. When, for instance, I say to someone that I have to get home to work, the assumption is that I mean housecleaning or ironing, not writing a book ...." ~~ Two-Part Invention

***

"Bion [her son] said, 'But, Daddy, you don't understand!'

"To which Hugh replied, 'It's not that I don't understand. I just don't agree with you.'

"To which our son replied, "If you don't agree with me then you don't understand.'"

Happy Birthday to A Wrinkle in Time

It's fifty years old!*

~~~~~

Here's an NPR story about the book, and here is one of my favorite L'Engle quotes: 

"You have to write the book that wants to be written. 

And if the book will be too difficult for grown-ups, 

then you write it for children." 

Rebecca Stead, author of the excellent When You Reach Me, gets it. In the NPR article, she says: 

"A Wrinkle in Time also asks these huge questions, really, about the universe, and good and evil, and the power of love, and all of this crazy science and complex ideas. It assumes that kids are able to think about all that stuff. I think that a lot of people forget that, or never realize it, but a children's book is really the best place to ask big questions. Our worlds get smaller as we get older," Stead says.

~~~~~

Here's a quick round-up of my past L'Engle posts:

Anne-with-an-e's review (written when she was 14) of A Ring of Endless Light.

Some great L'Engle quotes.
(Updated to note: I fixed the quote link and it should take you to the right location now. And, here's a link to every post in which I ever mentioned Madeleine L'Engle!)

My fangirl moment with Madeleine L'Engle.

~~~~~

And, from an online writing pal, Maria Ruiz Scaperlanda, here's a great interview from June, 2000 that ran in St. Anthony Messenger magazine.

~~~~~

*Ramona looked over my shoulder and said, "Wow, Mommy, you're older than A Wrinkle in Time." I said, "Yeah, honey, thanks for pointing that out," and she replied, "No problem. It's what I do best." 

Bits and Pieces of Our Days: What We've Been Reading

Ramona and I just finished The Curious World of Calpurnia Tate, Jacqueline Kelly's delightful* sequel to The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate. We did it together as a read-aloud and were both sad to reach the end of our time with the Tate clan. And who needs a science curriculum with books such as these? Love them.

* ETA: Just fyi: It does tackle some serious themes, too, so some of you might want to preview it and/or be ready to discuss those. 

~~~~~

While we're on the subject of science, though, we're working our way through Fruitless Fall together. If you've never fallen hard for honeybees, you need to pick up this book. 

~~~~~

Betsy is doing some reading aloud with Ramona, too. Last night they finished The Son of Neptune, from Rick Riordan's Heroes of Olympus series. 

~~~~~

Her own stuff: Ramona recently finished Andrew Clements' Things Not Seen, which she said was "fun, and interesting, and there was more to it" than she thought there would be. She recommends it. 

Then she moved on to Tanita Davis's A La Carte, which she desperately loved. It left her with a book hangover, drifting and unsure of what she wanted to pick up next. She just wanted more time with Lainey. 

She eventually moved on, though, and is currently reading The Importance of Being Earnest. 

~~~~~

Last month I read The One-in-a-Million Boy, by Monica Wood, and it was lovely and sad and uplifting. Recommend, recommend, recommend. 

I just finished Connie Willis's newest book, Crosstalk. It's basically a romantic comedy, lightweight fun. I think the story could have been told in a shorter book, but I still enjoyed it. I've been told I need to read To Say Nothing of the Dog, so that's on the TBR list for lightweight Willis. I think Doomsday Book (not lightweight) is still my favorite of hers. 

Right now? I'm rereading Madeleine L'Engle's A Circle of Quiet. I adore her Crosswicks journals. 

~~~~~

Final book note: 

Did you know that yesterday was, as my friend Beth at Endless Books calls it, the Literary Day of Days? November 29th is the birthday of Madeleine L'Engle, Louisa May Alcott, and C.S. Lewis. 

Why did I not have this day highlighted on my calendar? Why are there not banners and fireworks? I assure you, next year the Literary Day of Days will be celebrated to the fullest extent allowed by law and bloggery. 

For this year, I will simply rerun this picture of a note I received from Madeleine L'Engle many years ago. (The story behind it is here.) Happy Belated Literary Day of Days! 

Ummm ... How Did I Forget That I Had This Letter from Madeleine L'Engle?

Today, for a current writing project of mine, I was digging through some ancient papers. I found an old journal of mine from late 1989. Taped into the front cover was a letter.

Apparently I had written what could only be called a fan letter to Madeleine L'Engle. I was in my twenties and I thought that maybe --  perhaps, possibly, who-knows, someday -- I might write something that someone would publish. I must have shared that thought with her.

And I received this in return:

What a kind and gracious soul to take the time to respond to a (gushing, I'm sure) young woman who wrote to share her admiration and aspirations.

Forgotten for twenty-two years.

Rediscovered today.

Treasured for all time.

Bits and Pieces of Our Days (The Spider Edition)

If you don't like spiders, you might want to skip this first bit.

Last night, Ramona was playing outside when something abruptly drove her indoors. Something along the lines of, "Mo-o-o-m! You have to see this spider! It's the biggest spider I've e-e-e-ever seen!" I went out to see this big, huge spider, thinking, "Uh-huh, yeah, sure ... it's probably as big as my thumbnail," and then I got outside. Sure enough, there was a spider on the back porch the size of my cat, and it had captured a small child:

Okay, no. Not really. It wasn't quite that hefty, and it did not have anything, not even an Ariel Barbie, pinned under any of its eight hairy legs. What it did have was the aforementioned gigantitude:

I wish I had a better camera, but a clearer picture might just disgust you.

I have seen this kind of spider before. The last time I saw one it was at least twenty feet away from the house and I saw no need to relay to my daughters the fact that prehistoric, horror-movie-creatures that might inspire one to sputter, "Them! THEM!" lived in our yard.

Anyway, homeschooling mom that I am, I swooped in to transform this Moment of Yuck into something I could record in a journal and call "school." We Googled.  We discovered we had been shuddering at looking at a wolf spider, we think. We did what any homeschooling mother and her daughters would do after research -- we called Atticus. Now, listen -- I'm no wimp when it comes to this stuff. I have had showdowns with mice. I have shooed a bat out of my house. A bat. I have dealt with a 50-lb. dog throwing up at my feet twenty minutes after she finished a lovely bowl of very doggish-smelling kibble. I'm not overly squeamish. But, yeah, I called Atticus. He swept the thing off the porch (can we call a good, hard smash "sweeping"? Yeah, we will...) but then I got kind of curious about why the back end of the spider was so lumpy-looking.

Now, if you're squeamish about spiders, you may not even want to be reading this post, but definitely do not click on this link, as it is about the way in which wolf spiders carry their babies on their backs. And it has pictures. With cameras better than my camera. Yup. The lumpiness was a whole bunch of babies.

"Well," I announced, "I guess we had our biology lesson for the day, eh?"

"Umm, yeah, well, I already had a biology lesson at school," said Anne-with-an-e, "and it was about photosynthesis. I'll take my lesson any day, thank you."

And now that I have so generously shared with you the horror that is the wolf spider, I feel all itchy and icky and I don't think I can do any more bits and pieces. I have to get up and go shake off the imaginary arachnids that are invading my psyche and my arms inside this sweater and the top of my head.

*****

So I shall leave you with a bit and a piece endlessly more pleasant than spiders -- books. Here are two that I read in the last few days, at the request of my daughters: 

Meet the Austins, by Madeleine L'Engle (one of Betsy's favorites)

Mitch and Amy, by Beverly Cleary (at the request of Ramona)

L'Engle and Cleary are two of my favorite writers, women who know children, love children, understand children. Delightful reads. Almost enough to make forget about wolf spiders.

*****

Almost.

Guest Blogger: Anne-with-an-e

Anne-with-an-e discovered Madeleine L'Engle last year, and has been hooked.

Yesterday, she wrote up this brief review of A Ring of Endless Light, so she's stepping in to blog today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"A Ring of Endless Light" is one of my favorite books!

I've read it five times since I first found it at the library last summer, and since then, I have also read A Wrinkle in Time, The Moon by Night, and An Acceptable Time.

What I really like about it is the characters. They are so interesting!

The movie, on the other hand, was nowhere near as good as the book. (Characters they left out: John, Leo, Grace, Binnie, Nancy Rodney, Jeb Nuttley, and probably somebody else, too...) And after I read the book, I was rather upset with the Disney Channel.

Although this is a wonderful novel, I would not recommend it to anyone under the age of thirteen because of some mature content.

Lastly, I want to include my frequent rant ( more of a whine, really) about that Zachary Gray person: I never understood why Ms. L'Engle kept putting him in her books. He never changes, and he's just as much of a jerk in "An Acceptable Time" as he was in this book. I don't know what Vicky sees in him. He kept saying that he "needed her" but she can't be his psychologist.

Earth to Vicky, Earth to Vicky! Not a good reason to go out with him!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks, Anne! You can blog for me anytime.

Recent Reading

1. We read The Search for Delicious, by Natalie Babbit, for Ramona's book club this month. I just loved it, and so did Ramona. Clever, magical, funny. Our book club party is coming up, so I'll report back soon on the food we've chosen. Each family will bring two foods they've deemed to be the definition of delicious.

2. I just read Meet the Austins and A Ring of Endless Light, both by Madeleine L'Engle. I want to live in Vicky Austin's grandfather's house.

3. Also just read a book about being frugal, although it's not really worth mentioning or offering a full review. It basically said: earn more money, spend it wisely, save as much as you can. Yeah. I've got those basics down. Fortunately, I also followed my own rule: don't spend money on books about frugality. Thank God for libraries.

4. Read Austenland, by Shannon Hale. Sweetly romantic, charmingly lightweight, a quick read. I was changing the ending in my head, but only a little bit, and I loved the surprises.

What are you reading?

Poetry Friday: Get a word in Edgewise with Linda Mitchell

 I didn't get a poetry post done this week, so how about a few words on writing? 

“Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.” ― William Wordsworth

“Tears are words that need to be written.” ― Paulo Coelho

“If there's a book that you want to read, but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it.” 

― Toni Morrison

“You have to write the book that wants to be written. And if the book will be too difficult for grown-ups, then you write it for children.” 

― Madeleine L'Engle

“Learn the rules like a pro, so you can break them like an artist.” ― Picasso

“Write what should not be forgotten.” ― Isabel Allende

~~~~~~~~~~

Visit Linda Mitchell at Another Word Edgewise for the Poetry Friday round-up this week. 

Photo courtesy of Tama66 at Pixabay.

A No-Panic Advent, Part IX: Favorite Advent and Christmas Books

In December, our favorite Advent and Christmas books sit under our Jesse Tree, like the gifts that they are.

Here, in no particular order (and with links to past posts that contain more detail, in some cases) are some of our favorite books.

And, here's the "no panic" part: Although we own many of these, we certainly don't own them all. I make generous use of the library and then every year, I purchase one or two new books to add to our collection.

Here' s the other "no panic" part: We don't read all of these every year. We'll definitely read our dearest favorites, but other books will rotate. For example, one year, we really focused on all of the American Girl Christmas stories, and we baked related treats, learned more about Christmas in other times and places, etc. But, we don't always get back to those books every year. Read and do what works for you.



The Donkey's Dream (which unfortunately appears to be out of print) is a gorgeous book, and a perennial favorite.

In this post, I talked about it, and about "how literature teaches us beautiful things."








The first time we read The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey, I cried a bucket. What a touching story about love and patience, healing and Christmas. Recommended with vigorous shaking of the head and tears in my eyes.

The Twenty-four Days Before Christmas.
A very sweet story by Madeleine L'Engle about the Austin family.










The Tale of the Three Trees can be read anytime, but is especially good for Advent and Lent.

It's a simple, beautifully illustrated book that helps children to see that God will answer our prayers, but not always in ways we can foresee.









The feast of St. Nicholas has us reading The Miracle of Saint Nicholas and The Real Santa Claus: Legends of St. Nicholas.








Alas, we do not own Hanna's Christmas, but must request it via inter-library loan each year. Used copies of this book, written once-upon-a-time by Little House author Melissa Wiley,  are hard to find, and so we must be happy with our annual library check-out.

Our must-read on St. Lucia day, along with saint books that tell us more about St. Lucy.






We love Tomie de Paola's The Legend of the Poinsettia and The Night of Los Posadas. And, don't forget An Early American Christmas.

Country Angel Christmas is a sweet one, too. And anything else by Tomie de Paola that we can find.



My sister gave The Legend of the Candy Cane to Anne-with-an-e when she was very little. It's become a tradition that both it and Jan Brett's The Night Before Christmas must be read by Atticus on Christmas Eve.



















Gennady Spirin's rendering of The Christmas Story is gorgeously illustrated. I think I bought this one for me.










Okay, so I cry a lot. Yes, I cried at this one, too. A lot. Love this book. Silver Packages is beloved by all the females in the house. Atticus has probably never read it, but then, he doesn't love to cry.




More and more:

The Legend of the Christmas Rose by William Hooks
Bright Christmas : An Angel Remembers by Andrew Clements
This Is the Star by Joyce Dunbar
Jesus by Brian Wildsmith
A Christmas Story by Brian Wildsmith
The Gift of the Magi
Hark! A Christmas Sampler by Jane Yolen
This Is the Stable by Cynthia Cotten
The Story of Christmas by Jane Ray
Jacob's Gift by Max Lucado
Christmas with Anne and Other Holiday Stories by L.M. Montgomery
The Christmas Story by Kay Chorao
A Little House Christmas Treasury: Festive Holiday Stories by Laura Ingalls Wilder
American Girl Christmas Books

And, of course:

The Best Christmas Pageant Ever by Barbara Robinson
and
The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis

How to Raise Readers (Or Convince Yourself That's What You Did)

1. Buy that Jemima Puddleduck board book when your first child is just a couple of months old. Convince yourself that your brilliant baby actually indicated to you (yes, right there in Barnes and Noble! She did!) that she would love to own that book.

2. Read Jemima Puddleduck daily. Sigh over the illustrations. Snuggle your baby.

3. Read My Name is Big Bird (and all the other -- many, many, many -- My Name is... books) over and over and over again. Because you love your child, because you love the way she is smitten with Big Bird, and because you love reading. But mostly because you love your child. Resist the urge to say something inappropriate and sarcastic when she asks for this book nineteen times in a row before lights out.

(Don't sigh over the illustrations as you did with Jemima Puddleduck. But do sigh over the delicious cuddle-and-read time. It's sighable, and it goes too fast.) 

4. Cynthia Rylant, Jim Arnosky, Barbara Cooney, Allen Say, Josephine Nobisso, Tomie  de Paola, Barbara Helen Berger, Robert McCloskey, picture books about saints, Laura Numeroff,  poetry everywhere, Eric Carle, Mike Venezia....

Stacked in the living room. Strewn in the bedrooms. Piled in the kitchen. Rummaged through at the book store....

Ramona, at the bookstore when she was four years old.

5. Read aloud at breakfast. Read aloud at lunch. Talk about books at dinner.

6. Don't worry about when your child starts reading. An early reader will not necessarily become a better reader than a "late" bloomer. What's important is to keep the love of books alive, whether that happens through independent reading, read alouds, audio books,  or, even better, an ongoing combination of all those things.

7. Frances Hodgson Burnett, Louisa May Alcott, Laura Ingalls Wilder, Melissa Wiley, Beverly Cleary, C.S. Lewis, Maud Hart Lovelace, L.M. Montgomery, E.B. White, Eleanor Estes, Edward Eager, J.K. Rowling, American Girl books, Jean Craighead George, Peg Kehret, Rick Riordan, Brian Jacques, Hilda van Stockum, Jean Fritz, Jeanne Birdsall, Andrew Clements ....

  

8.  Go to the library. Make it a regular habit. Show your children how to use everything: the card catalog, the helpfulness of the librarians, the amazing fun of the self-checkout, the way the stacks are so perfectly constructed and suited to plopping down on the floor to peruse a book together until you ultimately decide, "Yes! Let's check this one out, too!" Teach them to bring their backpacks with them. You'll never check out just one.

9. Don't be the mom in the library who can be overheard saying things such as, "No! Put that back! You read that one last week -- get something new!" or, "Stop it! That one's too easy for you! Get something more challenging, why don'tcha?" Please don't say these things. There's nothing wrong with rereading a book, whether it's a classic or brain candy. Can you ever gaze too many times on a Caravaggio? Have you sworn off popcorn since you already enjoyed it once? Do you ever say, "Stop it! You've looked at that priceless painting before! Move on!" or, "Isn't that popcorn too easy to eat? Why don't you tackle something with some culinary layers?" Nope. Don't do it.

10. Remember this very important rule: no one is ever too old for picture books. Picture books are an art form. The best of them are beautiful and complex while appearing to be simple and simply inviting. Cultivate consumption of them. It's a great habit to acquire.

11. Jane Austen, Harper Lee, Madeleine L'Engle, Ray Bradbury, Flannery O'Connor, Suzanne Collins, Mark Twain, Charles Dickens, poetry everywhere, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Willa Cather, C.S. Lewis, George MacDonald, Shakespeare. Stack them, strew them, pile them, rummage through them. Read them, share them, talk about them.

12. Don't turn books into idols, but do teach your children that books -- the written word, human communication, hearts and souls and minds poured out and preserved on paper -- are vital. They are our story, our history, our future. Books help us sift through who we are, why we are, what we are, and where we want to go.

13. If you do all these things, you will quite possibly raise readers. We did these things, and we have three daughters who love books.

On the other hand, it's quite possible that all the things we did had nothing to do with raising readers. It might just be in the genes. Atticus and I may have ink in our veins, so it's conceivable that no matter what we did, even if we'd spent their lives saying things like, "Put that book down and come watch Gilligan's Island!", they would have wound up loving books. I know people who love books who haven't necessarily raised "readers." It happens, no matter how much some people strew and read and stack.

The truth is, we can't predict what our children will become or mold them into what we want them to be. They are unique souls; they aren't here to be grand reflections of what book lovers we are, or of anything that we are. But, that's another blog post.

Even if we can't guarantee that book-loving steps will lead to book-loving people, one thing we can be certain of is this: Jemima Puddleduck, generally speaking, leads to good things.

Some Books We Read in 2016

The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry, Rachel Joyce
A Man Called Ove, Fredrik Backman
Betsy was a Junior, Maud Hart Lovelace 
The Pretend Wife, Bridget Asher
Essentialism, Greg McKeown
In This House of Brede, Rumer Godden
Yes, Please, Amy Poehler
Bossy Pants, Tina Fey
Little Men, Louisa May Alcott
Jo's Boys, Louisa May Alcott
Driving Hungry, Layne Mosler 
Between Shades of Gray, Ruta Sepetys
Still Life, Louise Penny
One Plus One, JoJo Moyes
Prisoner B-3087, Alan Gratz
Why Not Me? Mindy Kaling
Betsy and Joe, Maud Hart Lovelace
The Power of Vulnerability,  Brene Brown (Audible)
What Alice Forgot, Liane Moriarty
A Canticle for Leibowitz, Walter Miller, Jr.
Hannah Coulter, Wendell Berry
Nest, Esther Erhlich
The Madwoman Upstairs, Catherine Lowell
Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, Jack Thorne
The Awakening of Miss Prim, Natalia San Martin Fenollera
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, J.K. Rowling
Betsy and the Great World, Maud Hart Lovelace
The Light Between Oceans, M.L. Stedman
Far From the Madding Crowd, Thomas Hardy
My Name is Lucy Barton, Elizabeth Strout
Betsy's Wedding, Maud Hart Lovelace
The One in a Million Boy, Monica Wood
The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, Annie Barrows and Mary Ann Shaffer 
Crosstalk, Connie Willis
Lab Girl, Hope Jahren
A Circle of Quiet, Madeleine L'Engle
84 Charing Cross Road, Helene Hanff 
The Curious Charms of Arthur Pepper, Phaedra Patrick

Two NaNoWriMo novels -- Betsy wrote one in July and one in November

Books I read with Ramona:

The Titan's Curse
Battle of the Labyrinth
The Last Olympian (all three are part of Rick Riordan's Percy Jackson series)
The Pushcart War, Jean Merrill
The Little Prince, Antoine de Saint-Exupery
The Mysterious Benedict Society and the Perilous Journey, Trenton Lee Stewart
Return to Gone Away, Elizabeth Enright 
The Candymakers and the Great Chocolate Chase, Wendy Mass
Jane of Lantern Hill, L.M. Montgomery
The Rise and Fall of Mount Majestic, Jennifer Trafton
The Curious World of Calpurnia Tate, Jacqueline Kelly
From the Mixed-up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, E.L. Konigsburg
The Shadow of the Bear, Regina Doman
Black as Night, Regina Doman

~~~~~

Top three picks? (No, don't make me pick! Okay, I will): 

In This House of Brede
Hannah Coulter
Far From the Madding Crowd

Book I'm really glad I read but will probably never read again?

A Canticle for Leibowitz

Books that filled me with happiness when I needed it: 

All things Maud Hart Lovelace and L.M. Montgomery

Books I finished, but that disappointed me the most: 

Harry Potter and the Cursed Child 
The Awakening of Miss Prim 

Books I didn't finish, for a variety of reasons: 

Lab Girl (actually a really good memoir, I just wasn't in the mood for memoir. I plan to return to it.)

My Name is Lucy Barton (I felt I was reading an entirely different book than the one I'd heard described by others as lovely. Maybe it was just my frame of mind at the time? I don't know.)

Favorite read-aloud with Ramona:
Jane of Lantern Hill
The Curious World of Calpurnia Tate

~~~~~

What were your top three books of 2016? 

Photo credit: FreeImages.com

Random quotations

"The great thing about getting older is that you don't lose all the other ages you've been. "

~~ Madeleine L'Engle

*****

"I wouldn't change one bit of it ... And besides, I like to cry. After I cry hard it's like it's morning again and I'm starting the day over .... A good night's sleep, or a ten-minute bawl, or a pint of chocolate ice cream, or all three together, is good medicine."

~~ Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine

*****

"You've heard of calling in sick, but have you ever called in well? It'd go something like this: you'd get the boss on the line and say, 'Listen, I've been sick ever since I started working there, but today I'm well and I won't be in anymore.'"

~~ Tom Robbins, Even Cowgirls Get the Blues

*****

"If youth did not matter so much to itself, it would never have the heart to go on."

~~ Willa Cather, Song of the Lark

*****

"Did you take this class in Existentialism by choice?"

~~ an actual dean of an actual university actually asked me this question

A Deliberate Life

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, 

to front only the essential facts of life, 

and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, 

and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."

~~ Henry David Thoreau 

Shortly after I started this blog, I considered alternate names for it -- I humbly acknowledged that "Karen Edmisten" is not particularly clever, and I daydreamed about what I might've named my blog had I given it more thought before I hit the "Create Blog" button. My favorite alternate-universe name was A Deliberate Life.  It summed up what I want my world to be: Deliberate. Thoughtful. A life with love and purpose. Conviction.

"Deliberate" also tends to conjure the notion of "A Plan." But I've never been terribly good at plans, and certainly not at anything like The Five Year Plan.

But not to worry, because "deliberate" and "planned", it turns out, are not at all the same thing.

I can think of numerous deliberate lives that were not particularly planned.

Take Robert Frost, for instance. Although he went to Dartmouth and Harvard, he never earned a degree. He worked at a variety of jobs just to make a living. A biography at Poets.org notes that "Frost drifted through a string of occupations after leaving school, working as a teacher, cobbler, and editor of the Lawrence Sentinel." From the outside, before anyone knew that Robert Frost would be Robert Frost For Heavens' Sake, he might've appeared to be something of a slacker. A job hopper. People perhaps shook their heads over the college dropout.

But he was deliberate.

He was a poet. It's who he was, and he knew it.

Van Gogh was an artist. He was a mess, but he was an artist, and he knew it. Blessed Teresa of Calcutta fed the hungry for Jesus, even when she felt dry and far from His embrace. It's who she was. Marie Curie was a scientist, Madeleine L'Engle was a writer. Though difficulties and sufferings came upon them, they lived deliberately. They knew the essential facts of their lives.

At my house, we will embark this week on our twelfth year of homeschooling. My life has been full of meanderings, changes, about-faces, and periods when I appeared undoubtedly to the world to be a slacker. But, since my conversion, I have been living that deliberate life. Unquestionably still full of twists and turns, alarming developments -- such as becoming a mother, becoming a Catholic, becoming a homeschooler -- and messy days and sometimes anguished nights. But deliberate.

I know who I am.

And I can only hope that as we continue to follow this adventure that is homeschooling -- as we look at the final year of "high school" (whatever that is, really), and college, and job and life possibilities, and the swirling middle of the teen years for another daughter, and at an age that the world calls "fourth grade" for yet another --  that I can pass on to my cherished children the essence of the soul-calming peace that comes with knowing how you want to live.

I followed Jesus because I wished to live deliberately, 

to front only the essential facts of life, 

and see if I could not learn what Jesus had to teach, 

and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not loved Him. 

Poetry Friday: "I Am From"

I'm still bouncing back here, so next week I'll have the whole account of a recent joyful event in our lives. The last time I reported on something like this was in 2021. (Subtle, eh?) 

Ramona Behnke has the round-up this week and she's playing with Georgia Ella Lyon's "Where I'm From" form so I'm tossing in a couple of my own incarnations of the form. 

Happy Poetry Friday, and be sure to visit Ramona for the round-up at Pleasures from the Page. 

I Am From

Karen Edmisten 

I am from knee socks, Hostess cupcakes, and patent leather Mary Janes worn home from the store. From hollyhock dolls*, dandelion bouquets, and lightning bugs in the backyard at dusk. 

I am from Santa Claus, the Easter bunny, and a squishy pillow at the drive-in, a six-year-old’s safety in the cocoon of a dark car.

I am from “I’m rubber, you’re glue,” and “Nuh-uh is not a word, Karen.” (“Nuh-uh,” I’d retort, “I can make it a word if I want to.”) 

I am from Alaskan glaciers, the sunrise on the Florida coast, road trips, and airplanes. I am from everywhere and nowhere, the child of a pilot and his bride.

I am from Air Force brats bonding through a shared, strange life, from always being the new kid in school, from learning how cruel and how kind children can be. 

I am from laughing with my sister so hard it makes my stomach hurt. 

I am from the shock of having life turned inside out and upside down, from learning that sometimes things must be torn down before they can be rebuilt. 

I am from celebrating rebuilding, from being remade again and again. 

I am from Tom, I am from Emily, Lizzy, and Kate. I am from five other babies I never met (but who I feel cheering me on daily.) 

I am from bewilderment at the concept that marriage and motherhood could make me happy.

I am from that happiness. 

I am from my discovery of home education. 

I am from Anne-with-an-e, Betsy-Tacy, and Ramona Quimby. From George Eliot, Madeleine L’Engle, and Rumer Godden, from Wendell Berry, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Richard Wilbur, Louisa May Alcott, Anne Tyler, and Nora Ephron. I am from endless authors and perennial poets, from read-alouds, and verse, and from the joy of the book log. 

I am from the simplest pleasures: dark chocolate, steaming coffee, walking, friends, talking, iced coffee, theater, autumn and spring, and letters. Still letters. 

I am from words, paper, typewriters, desktops, laptops, manuscripts, books, and the Oxford comma. 

I am from nomads, from possibilities, from imagination.

I am from a longing for roots, found finally in the knowledge that this earth is not a nomad's home. 

And here's another past version: 

I Am From

I am from knee socks, Hostess cupcakes

and black patent leather shoes worn home from the store.

I am from coast to coast, from everywhere and nowhere,

the child of a pilot and his bride. I am from base housing,

plain vanilla walls and Barbie clothes sewn from Thailand’s silk.

I am from holly hock dolls and walking to school,

from dandelion bouquets, from Alaskan glaciers and the sun

rising over the Atlantic on a Florida coast.

I am from summer car trips to Grandma and Grandpa's,

with stops to see Lookout Mountain and the Truman Museum

along the way.

I am from staid New England stock, from Indiana folks,

from John and Norma, Madeline and Jim.

I am from lightning bugs in the backyard

and the comforting scent of Grandma's Noxzema.

I am from “Be polite” and “Do your best,”

and “Goodnight, John-boy” at bedtime,

from “I’m rubber, you’re glue,”

and from “Nuh-uh is not a word.”

I am from my squishy pillow at the drive-in,

from a six-year-old’s delight in the

dark, safe cocoon of the family car.

I am from Santa Claus and Easter eggs, dinnertime grace,

and from bedtime prayers that faded away.

I am from Germany and Wales, from homecooked meals,

decorated doll cakes** on my birthday,

and home-sewn clothes

that made me proud of my mother’s skill.

From Grandma, who thought I loved peas

because I gobbled them up (just to get rid of them),

and from Grandpa, who convinced me

that a signal tower was his own private Christmas tree.

I am from my grandmother’s habit of smearing butter

on a scraped knee, and taking me to “the grocery”

no matter what store it was.

I am from Mom, who decorated the house for every holiday,

and took us blueberry hunting by the creek;

from Dad, who told me that thunder

was the giants bowling in the sky,

and whose hand holding mine is the only thing I remember seeing

when he returned from a year in Korea.

I am from Air Force brats bonding through a shared, strange life,

from a family who taught me without words that "skin color" 

meant nothing and “human being” meant everything.

I am from nomads, from possibilities and from imagination.

I am from a longing for roots, found finally, and only, in God.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  * Hollyhock dolls

** Barbie doll cake (My mom made the best cakes!) 

Reading in 2009

I know this isn't everything -- it doesn't even touch on the things Anne, Betsy and Ramona read on their own.  I keep promising myself I'll get a little more organized about our booklists. I signed up for Good Reads and have done nothing with it other than to think, "I've done nothing with Good Reads."

And as I look over this list, I see that much of my reading time is spent either reading to my kids, previewing something for my kids, or keeping up with my kids. And, then, when all that's done, I throw in a few books for me. 


Fiction (mostly stuff I read with the kids/previewed for the kids/stuff I read to keep up with the kids):

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows
Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury 
How to Be Good by Nick Hornby (not for the kids)
A La Carte by Tanita Davis
The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins
Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins
When You Reach Me by Rebecca Stead
The Mysterious Benedict Society by Trenton Lee Stewart
The Titan's Curse by Rick Riordan
The Battle of the Labyrinth by Rick Riordan
The Last Olympian by Rick Riordan
Midnight Dancers by Regina Doman


A Little Non-fiction:

Blink by Malcolm Gladwell
Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell
Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell
Mockingbird by Charles Shields
Wish I Could Be There by Allen Shawn 
Fruitless Fall by Rowan Jacobsen
Chocolate Unwrapped by Rowan Jacobsen
I Feel Bad About My Neck by Nora Ephron
On Writing Well, by William Zinsser


Various read alouds with various kids, re-read alouds (Ramona's first time with some of these) or things I reread because the girls were reading them: 

To Kill a Mockingbird, by Harper Lee
An Old Fashioned Girl by Louisa May Alcott
Ginger Pye by Eleanor Estes
The Moffats by Eleanor Estes
Mr. Popper's Penguins by Richard and Florence Atwater 
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory by Roald Dahl
On Tide Mill Lane by Melissa Wiley 
The Road to Roxbury by Melissa Wiley
Little House in the Big Woods by Laura Ingalls Wilder
Little House on the Prairie by Laura Ingalls Wilder
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe,
Prince Caspian,
The Voyage of the Dawn Treader,
The Silver Chair,
The Horse and His Boy,
The Magician's Nephew by C.S. Lewis
Charlotte's Web, by E.B. White
The Penderwicks by Jeanne Birdsall
The Penderwicks on Gardem Street by Jeanne Birdsall
The Best Christmas Pageant Ever by Barbara Robinson
The Twenty-Four Days Before Christmas by Madeleine L'Engle


Spiritual Reading (and in some cases, re-re-rereading and looking over highlights):

Abandonment to Divine Providence by Jean-Pierre de Caussade (a regular and constant reread)
Fr. Elijah (fiction ... my kids groan, "You're reading that again?" It's like medicine to me)
Fire of God's Love by Mike Aquilina
Angels of God by Mike Aquilina
Happy Are You Poor by Fr. Thomas Dubay
Miracles by C.S. Lewis 
The Mission of Motherhood by Sally Clarkson
The Ministry of  Motherhood by Sally Clarkson
101 Devotions for Homeschool Moms by Jackie Wellwood
Grain of Wheat by Fr. Michael Geisler  (fiction)
Mother Teresa and me by Donna-Marie Cooper O'Boyle
Grace Cafe by Donna-Marie Cooper O'Boyle
View The Domestic Church by Donna-Marie Cooper O'Boyle
The Miracle of Lourdes by Fr. John Lochran
New Seeds of Contemplation by Thomas Merton 


A few of the books I started and need to get back to:

Mary, Mother of the Son (volumes I, II and III) by Mark Shea
Mother Teresa's Secret Fire by Fr. Joseph Langford
Praying the Rosary for Inner Healing by Fr. Dwight Longenecker
The Omnivore's Dilemma by Michael Pollan
The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini

The Twenty-four Days Before Christmas

I believe this book is out of print, and used copies are getting harder to find. I lucked into a reasonably priced one, and I'm glad we did. We enjoyed this sweet little story by Madeleine L'Engle.

The Twenty-four Days Before Christmas: An Austin Family Story, invites us into the Austin family, and specifically into the mind of seven-year-old Vicky. It's Advent, and the family is following their beloved tradition of doing something special and meaningful every day of December to prepare for the birth of the Christ Child.

But this year is different. The family is also preparing for two other big events: Vicky is rehearsing to be the youngest-ever angel in the Christmas pageant, and Mother is preparing to have another baby, their fourth child.

Will the baby come too soon? Will Mother be at home for Christmas, or will she be in the hospital? Will she be able to see Vicky play the angel?

This is a lovely little book about answered prayers and the importance of family. Vicky's faith shines through the last words of the book, as she sees that God's way of answering our deepest desires is often unexpected, but always deserving of our awe and our thanks.

Poetry Friday: I Am From

Carol, at The Apples in My Orchard, is hosting Poetry Friday this week. She and her workshop students have been looking at various kinds of "I am" poems. So this week I decided to share the latest incarnation of an "I Am From" poem that I recently had to write for a conference. 

I've written a few versions of this, some shorter, some longer. But one thing that never changes? That laughter with my sister. (I didn't get her permission to share her picture, thus her lovely smile.) 😀

I Am From

by Karen Edmisten 

I am from knee socks, Hostess cupcakes, and patent leather Mary Janes worn home from the store, from hollyhock dolls, dandelion bouquets, and lightning bugs in the backyard at dusk. 

I am from Santa Claus, the Easter bunny, and a squishy pillow at the drive-in, a six-year-old’s comfort in the dark cocoon of the car.

I am from “I’m rubber, you’re glue,” and “Nuh-uh is not a word, Karen.” (“Nuh-uh,” I’d retort, “I can make it a word if I want to.”) 

I am from Alaskan glaciers, and the sunrise on the Florida coast, from everywhere and nowhere, the child of a pilot and his bride.

I am from Air Force brats bonding through a shared, strange life, from always being the new kid in class. 

I am from laughing with my sister so hard it makes my stomach hurt. 

I am from the shock of having life turned inside out and upside down, from learning that sometimes things have to be deconstructed before they can be rebuilt. 

I am from celebrating the rebuilding. I am from being remade again and again. 

I am from Tom, and from Emily, Lizzy, and Kate. I am from five other babies I never met (but whom I feel cheering me on daily.) 

I am from bewilderment at the idea that marriage and motherhood could make me happy.

I am from that happiness. 

I am from my discovery of home education. 

I am from Anne-with-an-e, Betsy-Tacy, and Ramona Quimby, from George Eliot, Madeleine L’Engle, and Rumer Godden, from endless authors and perennial poets, from read-alouds, and verse, and the joy of the book log. 

I am from the simplest of pleasures, from dark chocolate, steaming coffee, iced coffee, walking, friends, talking, theater, autumn and spring, and letters. Still letters. 

I am from words, paper, typewriters, desktops, laptops, manuscripts, and books. 

I am from nomads, from possibilities, and from imagination.

I am from a longing for roots, found finally, magically and forever, in everyone and everything I love. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Be sure to stop by Carol's for the round-up. 

Shockingly Clever Reading in 2012

A great deal of my reading in 2012 was work-related. Fascinating stuff, but not necessarily rattling good yarns, as C.S. Lewis called page-turners. Still, I managed to dig in to some good stuff in the off-hours, and here are a few favorites:

My Favorite Non-fiction last year:

Quiet: The Power of Introverts In a World That Can't Stop Talking, by Susan Cain
If I invited you over for coffee and tried to explain to you how much I love this book, I'd end up sputtering, and sounding incoherent and inept, because as an introvert I'd spend too much time analyzing what I was saying and how I was saying it. I adore Susan Cain for understanding that and for attempting to help the world better understand introverts, too.

The Year of Learning Dangerously by Quinn Cummings

~~~~~

My Favorite Fiction last year:

The Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh
The more I think about this book, the more I love it. It is delicate, but raw ... eloquent but real ... deeply touching but not saccharine. It is simply beautiful, brimming with what is best in humanity.

I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith
The Blue Castle by L.M. Montgomery

~~~~~

Favorite Books I Read to Ramona last year:

The Prairie Thief
Little Women

Charlotte's Web (with this cover, not the movie cover) 

The Search for Delicious

~~~~~

Favorite Book I Read Because Betsy and Anne-with-an-e Couldn't Believe I'd Never Read It:


Meet the Austins by Madeleine L'Engle

~~~~~

And finally, perhaps the most important category:

Favorite Book Written by One of My Daughters in November:

Bront, by Betsy (her NaNoWriMo novel)

When I Was a Pro-Choice Atheist, Part 5

I keep thinking that I've finished this series, and yet I know that this subject is never neatly wrapped up with a bow or a snappy ending. Just a few more thoughts.

Part 1 is here
Part 2 is here 
Part 3 is here
Part 4 is here 

Yesterday, when I talked with Sean Herriott on Relevant Radio, we spent some time on the idea that it's so hard to get past labels: pro-life, pro-choice, anti-abortion, pro-abortion, pro-death, pro-child, pro-woman, anti-woman, and on and on.

As Sean noted, we all tend to label ourselves according to our own understanding of our positions. And, we tend to label the other side according to our understanding of their position in relation to ours, rather than as a position or worldview in itself.

(And then we get mad, call each other names and go home and blog about it.)

I'm reminded of one of the best quotes I've ever encountered about disagreements. In Madeleine L'Engle's autobiographical book, A Circle of Quiet, she recounts an argument about baseball between her husband and ten-year-old son.

Bion said, "But, Daddy, you just don't understand!"

Hugh replied in his reasonable way, "It's not that I don't understand. I just don't agree with you."

To which our son returned, "If you don't agree with me, you don't understand."

That seems to be the way most of us communicate.

Instead of philosophies and worldviews being volleyed back and forth, instead of saying, "I know you don't agree with me, but have you considered this?" and reasonably presenting a position, we say, "You don't get it," and we walk away. And, on the receiving end (and I mean this whether one is on the pro-life or the pro-choice receiving end of such arguments) all too often, rather than logically considering another's position and continuing the conversation, we cut it off, as if hearts are changed over one cup of coffee.

Conversions happen slowly for most of us. They are a process, not a moment. So, keep talking.

On the other hand, sometimes everything we say seems to fall on deaf ears. We've tried to talk calmly, lovingly, we've tried to make it a two-way conversation, but we throw our hands up and are stuck feeling in Bion's place: "If you don't agree with me, you don't understand." As I mentioned to Sean at the end of yesterday's conversation, some conversations come to a standstill. We decide, or we are told, "We have to agree to disagree."

It's hard to hear that (and to say that) because most of us, deep down, genuinely think that if others really understood what we said,  they'd agree with us. But, sometimes, they really do understand and they really do still disagree.

That's called free will. 

There's still the responsibility for each of us on our respective sides to do what we believe is right, but there will always be clashes. We are a fallen race. Still, there is prayer and love and a relationship.  There's still the chance for me to try to be the kind of friend that my Catholic friend was to me all those years ago. He (and C.S. Lewis) helped me to see that God can "hate the sin but not the sinner."

Can't I try to do the same? Isn't that what the Gospel commands us to do?

If Thy law had not been my delight,

I should have perished in my affliction.

I will never forget Thy precepts

for by them, Thou has given me Life.

~~ Psalm 119:92

Read Aloud Role Reversal

Yesterday, thanks to the lovely little bug I've been fighting (Is it a cold? Just a cough? Sinus stuff? Who knows? Who cares? It's finally getting much better today), I didn't feel up to our usual, annual read-aloud of Madeleine L'Engle's The Twenty-four Days Before Christmas. 

We all love this book beyond measure, but my voice just wasn't going to cooperate. So ... grown daughters to the rescue!

Anne-with-an-e and Betsy read it aloud to me yesterday. To Ramona, too, of course, but I sort of selfishly reveled in the fact that my girls were reading to me. Read-aloud Karma, if you will.

That is all.

We will now return to our regularly scheduled reader.