Yesterday this happened at 7:30 a.m. It gave me hope at the onset of a school year that looks kind of overwhelming.
Thank You, Father. You’re really good to us.
This happened too.
4th grade, 1st grade, 12th grade, 8th grade, 3rd grade.
We took first day pictures in a rush. They blurred.
It was muddy and I left the school feeling a little like this.
But then I came home and swept the house and remembered that when I straighten the doily and coffee table book, it will stay that way for seven hours. That has been unheard of for about 17 years at our house.
Somehow it made me feel orderly and happy.
It will be okay, this sending off of babies to first grade.
One thing I want to do with the children all in school this year but Alec (and he doesn’t count because he’s a graduated, working man) is write for at least a half hour each day.
Probably most of that pish-posh will never see this blog space and I don’t have plans that it will. But a goal is a good thing.
This morning I cleaned the fridges before sitting down with a huckleberry/banana/greek yogurt/homemade granola parfait.
It was so good. But thoughts of current world news haunted me as I ate.
Dear Jesus, have mercy on this messed up world.
My niece Hannah is here from Idaho to teach special ed at school and be a teacher’s aide and she’s boarding with us. She is good natured and literary, good at singing, and quite funny. She will spice up our staid
Maybe we’re not staid. But that’s the best word I can think of right now.
Here is Hannah’s first encounter with our special kind of mud and a back window wiper that has never worked. Why not try an ice scraper, she wonders.
Andre took this photo of his extra large carrot in comparison to a normal sized one.
All the good stories are out there waiting to be told in a fresh, wild way. Mark Twain said that Adam was the only man who, when he said a good thing, knew that nobody had said it before. Life is like a recycling center, where all the concerns and dramas of humankind get recycled back and forth across the universe. But what you have to offer is your own sensibility, maybe your own sense of humor or insider pathos or meaning. All of us can sing the same song, and there will be four billion different renditions. (Anne Lamott in Bird by Bird)
It is now time to heat up lunch for three and think about the six people I sent to school eating the dozen monster cookies they took with them for lunch. (As well as sloppy joe sandwiches and oranges and chips or lettuce salad, of course.)
God bless all teachers and students and moms and dads. And homeschool moms (and dads) too. Those especially.
Sending love to all of you who read here.