Poetry Friday: The Bat by Jane Kenyon

Jane Kenyon has an uncanny knack for linking the most mundane and earthly happenings to universal spiritual musings and I love her deeply for it.

Last month we had a bat in the house.

I have to confess that I did not immediately think of the Holy Spirit, as Kenyon did, unless you count, "Don't worry, girls, Dad will take care of it!" That's sort of six degrees of separation from the Holy Spirit because:

1. I prayed that Atticus would swiftly evict the bat.
2. Atticus is a father.
3. "Praying" and "father" make me think of God the Father.
4. God the Father makes me think of God the Son.
5. God the Son makes me think of the Holy Spirit.

So, really, I was only five degrees away from contemplation of the Holy Spirit, although I wasn't doing anything as lofty as musing about rationalism versus mysticism when our home was so brazenly invaded.* I was watching a rerun of The Office with Atticus. (Not the bat episode, which would have been a little too weird.)

Still, I guess this whole bat thing puts me within a few degrees of Jane Kenyon.


The Bat
by Jane Kenyon


I was reading about rationalism,
the kind of thing we do up north
in early winter, where the sun
leaves work for the day at 4:15

Maybe the world is intelligible
to the rational mind;
and maybe we light the lamps at dusk
for nothing...

Then I heard the wings overhead.

(Read the rest here, at The Writer's Almanac.)

~~~~~~~~~~

The round up this week is at Paper Tigers.

~~~~~~~~~~

* Anne-with-an-e said, "Are you going to kill it? They're protected -- isn't it illegal to kill them?"

"Breaking and entering is illegal, too," replied our hero.

Sue Elvis is Giving Away Three Kindle Copies of A Little Way of Homeschooling

Visit her at 

Stories of an Unschooling Family 

for details. 

The View From Here

I'm turning into my grandmother. Minus the red lipstick.

What I mean to say is that it seems, lately, as if I am viewing everything from a certain vantage point, through a particular lens of having lived a certain length of time and having gone through certain things. Like a grandmother who says, "Well, you know, dearie, back in my day...."

(And could I use the word "certain" just one more time? Certainly.)

I've lived a relatively long time. Long enough to be your ummm, big sister, probably. (That's all I'm gonna say about that.) And what I find myself doing -- all the time, people -- is nodding my head at things that people say and do. As if I knew what was coming next. As if I were wise, which I'm not. As if I've been there, done that, which maybe I have been sometimes.

I've been an atheist.
I've been agnostic.
I've been spiritual but not religious.
I've been an Episcopalian.
I've been a Catholic.
I've learned how to try to let go of me, me, me, in my relationship with God.

I've said I would never marry.
I've gotten married.
I've learned how to love, and how to be a wife.
I've learned how to try to let go of me, me, me, in my marriage.

I've said I would never have children.
I've made rude remarks about people who have children and I've thought that people who have children are silly and selfish and ridiculous.
I've changed a bit, and I thought that having children might be lovely.
I've had children.
I've had miscarriages.
I've learned how to love and how to grieve.
I've learned how to be a mommy.
I've learned how to grow from being a mommy to being a mom. (There's a difference.)
I've learned how to try to let go of me, me, me, with my daughters.

I've learned how to be a woman in her 20s, a woman in her 30s, a woman in her 40s, a woman in her 50s ... and I've learned that "women's magazines" run the same articles. All the time. If I would only listen to those magazines, I would walk off ten pounds by next week and have a decluttered home in just ten minutes a day.

I've had political discussions, political arguments, political ponderings, and political depressions. I've thought, ever since I came into the Catholic church, that there's no earthly political system that gets it. (Remember how the media used to scratch their heads over JPII? "What? He's against abortion and the death penalty? This makes no sense ....") I have wearied of seeing Christians beat each other up over worldly solutions when we all know that there is no earthly salvation to solve all our problems. I have wished -- at the risk of sounding wishy-washy, or touchy-feely, or simplistic, even though there's something essentially simple about Christianity -- that we Christians could remember that we're supposed to love one another.

I feel like my grandmother because I feel as if I've been around long enough to see that we all keep making the same mistakes. Pendulums swing, babies are born, we live, we die, we make choices. We all think -- and people have been thinking this since the dawn of time -- that we are living in the most important period ever. The truth is, quite likely, that --  just like all of our ancestors -- what's really important is the small decisions we will make today -- with our spouses, our children, our God. And it's really only Facebook and Twitter and blogging and thewholegreatbiginternet that make us think that every opinion we have is earthshattering.

What's more important for me, today,  is whether or not I will try as hard as I can, as sincerely as I can, as desperately-seeking-grace as I can, to be the Catholic I say I want to be.

On Relevant Radio: The Liturgical Year

I'll be on Relevant Radio this morning at 8 a.m. central time, talking about simple ways to celebrate the liturgical year with your family.

A few links:

Easter Every Week (about the wisdom of the Church calendar)

Pray the Liturgy of the Hours and you'll always know what day it is. Try Divine Office or iBreviary, or visit Daria Sockey at Coffee and Canticles for more info on making these feasts, memorials and prayers a part of your life.

Feast of the Archangels

Catholic Cuisine

Do NOT be intimidated by the Catholic Cuisine site. If you're like me, your first reaction will be temptation to despair.

You will mutter to yourself, "I could never do that," and "Oh, sure, easy for them to say ... I don't even know what a 'Wilton tip 1M' is." But, look! There's bacon!

So, just use the site for ideas and inspiration, and soon you will find yourself looking forward to massive quantities of sugary frosting, and dreaming about obscure saints and dinner plans that impressively highlight their saintly doings. Or, you'll at least start buying candy bars on your kids' baptismal birthdays. Whatever works for you.

Catholic Culture has lots of stuff about the liturgical year: monthly overviews and calendars, activities for ordinary time as well as Advent, Lent, and so on.

Michele Quigley's planners are beautiful.

Cupcakes count.

Alice Gunther's irresistable spoon saints.

If You Give a Mom a Question

(The following is a dramatization. Names, toys, or situations may have been changed to protect the attention-deficit levels of mothers, or to make you laugh. You decide.)

If you give a mom a question, she's going to want to answer it.

If you ask her where the Magnetix are, even though she was about to go exercise, she will stop what she's doing and tear apart your older sisters' closet looking for those blasted Magnetix, not because she's that good a mommy, but because it's driving her crazy that they aren't in there. Soon, she will realize that not only did she forget to start exercising, but she's halfway through cleaning the closet, which was not on today's schedule. And she still has not found the Magnetix.

She will leave the semi-tidied closet in your sisters' room and try another closet. With a triumphant, "Ah-ha!" she will pull the Magnetix from the second closet, hand them to you, bid you adieu, and race off to squeeze in a now-abbreviated workout session.

While she's exercising, she'll realize she has no idea what she's going to make for dinner. This will not please her. She will finish the workout and then wonder, "Now, what was I going to do next?" You will ask her, "Mommy, have you showered yet?" Her face will light up, and she will race off to shower.

When she's finished showering, and looking over your sisters' math stuff, you will ask her what's for lunch.

"Lunch?" she'll say, as if you'd just asked her to explain the intricacies of molecular physics. "I don't know. We'll have something. Soon."

Soon, she will go make something, and you'll eat it for lunch. This will get her wondering what's for dinner again. She'll ask everyone what sounds good, and then will announce that hamburgers are on the menu.

Then, you'll ask her if you can have a turn on the computer, and she'll say, "Yes, you can, just as soon as I finish checking this one thing." She'll sit down at the computer, and one click will lead to another, and before she knows it, she's read four blogs and she's forgotten what the one thing was. This will remind her that her youngest child is waiting for the computer, and that the hamburger is frozen.

She will send your big sister to get hamburger out of the freezer. She will stop at her planner to make a note on her shopping list, and will suddenly notice a blank thank-you note, prompting her to announce that no one has written a thank you note to Grandma and Grandpa yet. "We are writing a thank you note, now!" she says in her I'm-not-kidding voice. "Where's Anne?"

"She's getting hamburger out of the freezer," someone will say.

"Oh," says your mother. "I forgot."

Hamburger now thawing, she sits everyone down at the table, commanding that they be grateful. Your sister asks, "Are we sending Grandpa's sunglasses back, too?" Your mother jumps, and she exits the scene to go find a box in the garage. While she's rummaging through junk in the garage, she notices that the garage needs a bit of tidying up ... but her plans are interrupted by a call from the kitchen:

"Mom? How do you spell fabulous?"

"Fabulous? Well, you should look it up! Let me go find the dictionary."

And she'll be off to find the dictionary, which is on a shelf that needs to be tidied, and ...

Do you ever have this kind of day?

If you want one, just ask a mom a question.

(This post first ran in September, 2008). 

Reason #4,322,235 Why We Love Home Education

It's all summed up in this New Yorker cartoon.

Our First Days of School

Recently (oh, was that really back on August 21st?) I mentioned that we'd be getting back to school after Labor Day. We did indeed start and it's been pronounced "Good!" by those in the know (that would be Ramona.)

First Day of School:

Went to Mass. Lovely, quiet, daily Mass. Lovely, quiet way to start and fortify our day.

Went to breakfast (though I would argue that Ramona's #1 choice -- a McGriddle at MacDonald's -- is not, in actuality, food).

Music lessons for Betsy and Ramona. We are the scum at the bottom of the barrel when it comes to keeping up with instruments over the summer. When there is no routine -- when no one named Mom is writing on Whiteboard Central in the kitchen, "Practice Today!" -- it doesn't seem to happen. Apparently, I am completely to blame. But, they're getting back up to speed quickly, and all is well and all will be well.

Math for everyone! Because we love it so much! Oh, wait. No. That's not the reason.
(Fact: I have five posts labeled "Math" on this blog. And one of them is a rerun.)

The park. Because it was a gorgeous day. Because it's fall. Because that means I'm coming back to life after wilting like old lettuce for months.

A spelling book! Because Ramona likes to challenge me.

Writing. Because we love it so much! And this time that's true!
(Fact: I have 133 posts labeled "Writing", "Blogging", or "Writing With the Kids." And those are just the ones I remembered to label.)

We're starting our Writing Groups up again. Ramona meets with hers at a friend's house, and I host one here for the teens. This year's a little different, though. For the past three years, Writing Group has been "my girls" -- Anne-with-an-e, Betsy, and their two best friends. So, we can be as girly as we want to be, and Betsy can write as many Jane Austen-y romance-y subplots as she likes, and these four such-best-friends-you-can-barely-tell-them-apart can write stories that include every inside joke they've ever split their sides over.

But this year, Anne and her best friend are busy with college classes, and meeting with us during the week doesn't work. Ack! What are we to do?

It happens that there are now two teen boys who are also interested in coming to Writing Group, so the dynamic has changed. Everyone has agreed not to laugh at anyone else's idea of good writing, whether that idea includes true love or things blowing up real good.

Days since the first day have included: 

The Prairie Thief read-aloud (which can be accomplished only when both Anne and Betsy are home and free to listen because they've made it clear they'll kill me if we read Lissa's new book without them.)

A visit to the library to hear a Laura Ingalls Wilder Chautauqua. Will probably do a separate post about it.

Betsy is reading Quiet, and a Sherlock Holmes book. (And doing math! Because she loves it so much! Just keep saying it, Karen....)

Ramona On History (Sort Of)

Ramona had her stuffed Piglet climb the bunk bed frame last night.

"I'm going to be," huffed Piglet as he climbed, "in the history books with Hercules, Socrates, and Plato!"

"Well, of course, Hercules wasn't actually a real person," I said. The muscle behind Piglet's daring feat suppressed a laugh.

"Well, then," puffed Piglet in reply, as he stretched his tiny stuffed limb out to grasp the next rail, "I'm going into the history books with Socrates and Plato!"

"Who aren't actually remembered for their athletic abilities," I inserted. "Known a little more for the mental processes, Piglet."

"Okay!" said Piglet, "I know! Whatever! I'm going in the history books!"

Go for it, Piglet.

(Photo courtesy of Stock.xchng.) 

Poetry Friday: The Good Nights

Atticus sent this one to me yesterday. Not only is the poem about wine (the poet and his wife are, after all, the authors of A Guide to North Carolina's Wineries), it's about late nights and marriage. It is winsome, funny, and true. 

If it were a wine, I would open another bottle. 

The Good Nights
by Joseph Mills

On the good nights
when the bottle's empty
we always want
just a little more,
half a glass,
a few sips,
a taste.
We know
this desire
can be dangerous
to pursue,
...
(Read the rest here, at The Writer's Almanac. Be sure you go read the last four lines.)

Katya Czaja has the round up at Write. Sketch. Repeat.

"And in fact it is by falling in love with a subject ..."

Thinking again about the Homeschool High School carnival and wanted to share this quote from Kenneth Clark:

Now, although I believe that this part of education* is the most important part, it has one great defect. One may achieve intellectual discipline, but one doesn't remember a single thing that one learnt in that way, because one doesn't absorb it. I can't translate the simplest Latin inscription, and if you ask me what Kant's Critique of Pure Reason is about I couldn't tell you. 

Education has another aspect -- what you learn through delight. It is a pity that the Nazis spoilt, by adopting it, a very good slogan: "Strength through joy." And in fact it is by falling in love with a subject, a period, a style, an individual hero, that one absorbs something so that it becomes a part of one's living tissue, and one never forgets it ... And the first advice I would give to any young person is, when you fall in love with Roman baroque or with the essays of Montaigne or with whatever it may be, give up everything to study that one, all-absorbing theme of the moment....

*Clark is referring here to intellectual discipline, of which he says, "It's absolutely vital to the conduct of life, and it's absolutely vital to the action of the mind throughout the whole of the rest of one's life. We used to achieve it by having people learn Latin, the most disagreeable thing I've ever done in my life. I did it for ten years and hated it all the time. But I did get some sort of -- well, I suppose one can only call it intellectual discipline out of it."

At Least This Time Ramona's Hopes Weren't Dashed

Remember long, long ago in a blogging galaxy far, far away (i.e., the year 2007, when Ramona was just five years old), when I mentioned "a carnival" and poor Ramona's day was ruined when I explained that it was just this boring thing called "a blog carnival"?

You don't remember? Here's the refresher.

This weekend, however, in my current blogging galaxy, Ramona and I are both happy. Yesterday, she got to go to her idea of a real carnival (thank you, Atticus, for handling the cotton candy and the bumper cars in nearly three-digit temps) and I get to read all kinds of encouraging posts and ideas that are also known as the Homeschool High School Carnival. 

No overpriced tickets, no scary carney workers ... just a bunch of good reading material that focuses on this month's theme, "The Wide View." Check it out!

Quotes For a Sunday

“Writing is like driving at night in the fog. 

You can only see as far as your headlights, 

but you can make the whole trip that way.”

~~ E.L. Doctorow

“I want to live other lives. 

I've never quite believed that one chance is all I get. 

Writing is my way of making other chances."

~~ Anne Tyler

“A writer is someone for whom writing 

is more difficult than it is for other people.”

~~ Thomas Mann

(Gotta love Writer's Almanac.)