Sharing Our Story: Serendipity Arrived!

The request arrived via an email from a friend who knows me well. We met as young moms in Texas. We are both teachers. We supported each other through our second pregnancies. We spent countless hours in the company of each other because her husband traveled and mine worked many hours. We volunteered at the local elementary school. We alternated weeks for a day of summer camp at each other's houses so we could have some time to ourselves. Her daughter headed off to middle school the year before my son did. My friend blazed trails ahead of me and was always available to brainstorm when a new parenting concern arose. And then we moved from Texas to Washington the summer of 1997. And now both of us are navigating being grandmothers at the same time.

So when she sent a text requesting book help, I wanted to help. Her son and daughter-in-law are working from home, as so many are now. He needs a child's bedroom for his office. Did I know of any children's books that portrayed opposite sex siblings sharing a bedroom? I didn't, but I scoured my bookshelves. I asked the librarian for help. And I came up with next to nothing, just one book about a lovely sibling relationship, but no reference to their room. 

So it was with sheer delight that I recently opened a book from my latest library pickup and found the perfect example for my friend and her son's family. I'm not sure how I stumbled upon this book, probably from someone's recommendation since I'm not familiar with the author or illustrator (except that when I read the back flap, I discovered that the illustrator is author/illustrator of one of our favorites, The Digger and the Flower).

Here are the words from the front flap: "This lyrical bedtime story celebrates the wondrous bounty of the natural world and the intimate family moments we share each night."

And here are the pages that make this a perfect fit for my friend in search of a book that portrays opposite sex siblings sharing a room. 

And I also love that an earlier two page spread shows the children kneeling in prayer. I'm celebrating that I was lucky to find the perfect book for my friend and her son's family. You never know when the right book will arrive to address your latest need!

To savor the magic of story, join the fun by linking your story at Sharing Our Stories.

Poetry Friday: Curbside Pickup and Library Memories

 

Molly at Nix the Comfort Zone is hosting

this week's roundup of poetic goodness. 

Check out her delightful monotera about

 the demise of their sole area code in Michigan. 

 

Since daughter and her family had the week off and went camping last week, we watched the boys on Saturday (daughter and son-in-law's anniversary) instead of our usual Friday. The highlight of the day was when I told the boys I was going to the library to pick up books. Suddenly, everyone wanted to join me! And so we loaded up - Grandma, Grandpa, three and a half year old Jack, and sixteen month old Robby. 

 

As we pulled in front of the library, Jack asked if he could come in and I had to tell him, "No, I won't even be going in. We are here for curbside pickup." However, after four months without any new library books, we're thrilled for curbside pickup!  

 

Here's a lovely Nikki Giovanni poem "My First Memory (of Librarians)" that I discovered when I went in search of the link for "Knoxville, Tennessee" for last week's Poetry Friday share. Here's the final stanza . Be sure to click on the link to read the entire poem.

 

"The welcoming smile of my librarian

The anticipation in my heart

All those books—another world—just waiting

At my fingertips." 

 

I look forward to the day when we can enter libraries again, but I celebrate books in brown paper bags at tables outside the library. I'm so grateful for libraries and their efforts to provide books and services during the pandemic.

SOL & #52Stories 32/52: Granny Memories & the Puttering Gene

#52Stories is my attempt to write 52 stories from my life during the year 2020. At least one story a week, in no particular order, to remember and document some of the memories and moments of my life.

My granny, Ella Duff, lived down the street from us when I was growing up. When she sold the farm at McNally flat and moved to town, she bought the house across the street and two houses down from ours. Our granny wasn't particularly indulgent, not like her sister, Aunt Becky, who moved next door to her. Aunt Becky (who never had children of her own) indulged her great nieces and nephews with treats (candy, cookies, cake, or ice cream), and talked to us, and treated us just like grownups.

My granny often seemed lost in her own world. She could while away a day chasing one of her two favorite passions. Either one would be scattered all over the living room while she hummed and puttered. I think I may have inherited her puttering gene. Several weeks ago while my husband hiked, I puttered. Hard to say exactly what I accomplished, but I did get a walk in around noon. But before then? I meandered through a pile of old newspapers that I've been wanting to read! Granny's puttering was much more productive, with end products (eventually) as a result of her puttering. So what were her two puttering obsessions that could cover every sofa and chair and even the floor?

One was quilting. Every grandchild was given a quilt made by Granny when they married. Everyone in the family gave their fabric scraps to Granny, so looking at the quilts is a stroll through family history. My sister, Kay, knows the origin of many of the scraps in my quilt. As Granny slipped into dementia, she continued laying out fabric scraps to plan her next creation.

I love the idea of quilting, but not so much the actual execution. I still have a partially finished wall hanging from a time when I took a quilting class and envisioned becoming a quilter just like Granny. However, thanks to Ann Frederickson's tutelage of a group of girls from our congregation one summer, Sara acquired basic sewing skills and inherited her great grandmother's quilting gene. That particular gene just happened to skip a generation. I'm amazed by the lovingly constructed quilts Sara creates and shares. Her latest creation? This car quilt she constructed for Jack during the early days of the pandemic. 

 

But I digress, back to Granny's other favorite puttering activity, genealogy. I still remember the brown briefcase with gold clasps that housed all those long genealogy sheets. And the hours she spent in search of her ancestors. Maybe I have a bit of that gene, although it's been germinating for a long while. When I pull up FamilySearch and begin to look around, it's as if Granny is peering over my shoulder, whispering, "Go, Mona, go!"

Poetry Friday: Kiss Summer Goodbye!

Laura Purdie Salas is hosting

this week's roundup of poetic goodness. 
Check out her poem "Blow It Up, Pufferfish!"

When I taught 3rd grade, my teaching partner 

had a pufferfish for our discovery table. 

It was my introduction to this fish. 

I know it's not Friday. We usually watch the grand boys on Fridays at our house, but they went camping this week. So we watched the boys on Saturday (their parents' anniversary).  I had high hopes for being a faithful Poetry Friday poster all month. I'm hosting Poetry Friday for the first time later in the month. Since Saturday felt like Friday all day, it seems that I'm really just a day late (instead of two) with this post.

Today, while reading some summer poems at poets.org, I reread an old favorite, "Knoxville, Tennessee" by Nikki Giovanni.  I went in search of my children's book of the same title, published in 1994 and illustrated by Larry Johnson. I didn't find it, but I know it's on my shelves somewhere. When I find it, I'll be sure to shelve it with my poetry books. I fear that's it out of print since I couldn't find it on Amazon.

This poem paired perfectly with one of my "opening of school" traditions. My students used to write a Kiss Summer Goodbye paragraph each year. It was a great way for them to acknowledge what they would be missing as we moved into the beginning of the school year. We followed up with another paragraph, Embrace Festive Fall, as we looked forward to fall festivities.

And even though August is still summer, my students always felt that summer ended the day they started back to school. If you're not familiar with Giovanni's poem, take a moment to click on the title and read it. You'll be transported to summer in a grand way and perhaps reflect on some of your own summer memories. And we do need to rely on our memories this year when our summer has been lived so much differently than usual. 

Spiritual Journey Thursday & #52Stories 31/52: Art for the Soul

 

 

 It's time to show up with our friends for Spiritual Journey Thursday. 

Margaret at Reflections on the Teche is our host this month and

selected Spiritual Art as our theme. The image shared on her post reminds 

us of the value of touch and connection during this time of pandemic.

 

More than 25 years ago while living in Houston, we purchased original art for our home. I love each piece, but this one remains a favorite. When we walked through our current home with a realtor, I could already visualize this art by Annell Livingston mounted above the fireplace in the living room.

Annell's later works focus on geometric shapes, but this earlier piece speaks to my soul and has continued to do so for the decades that it has resided in our home. There's a definite southwestern feel to this piece which may be why we were so attracted to it. I love the colors, the movement I feel when I look at it, the honing in on a contemplative moment with one person perched in front of a small building (that I like to think of as a chapel). It encourages me to slow down, to breathe, to meditate, to savor the beauty that surrounds me. 

Indeed, borrowing from this article in our files from an unidentified magazine,  Annell's art "...reminds us that sacred space is all around..." ("Squaring Off: Annell Livingston's radical shift from realism to abstraction," by Donna Tennant, September 1993). During this time of pandemic, I find embracing sacred space to be an essential act. Whether that sacred space is found in art, in nature, in scripture, in prayer or in mediation, it is a way to connect with the divine. I hope you are finding sacred space in your days.

If you feel so inclined, could you add my brother, Karl, and his family, to your prayer list? He is hospitalized in Oklahoma and facing serious medical issues (not COVID).

SOS & Poetry Friday & #52Stories 30/52: Playing with Words for My First Nonet

  Catherine at Reading  to the Core is hosting  
this week's roundup of poetic goodness. 
Check out her poem "The Edge of the World" 
for a bit of mermaid love, inspired by an 
illustration by Emily Winfield Martin

Sometimes I have no idea of what I'm going to write for a particular post and today was one of those Fridays. When this happens, I usually just start reading and before long, someone inspires me and I'm ready to write.  Today's inspiration came from Irene's post and the handout she created, How to Write a Nonet. A nonet is a nine-line poem that starts with one syllable in the first line and ends with nine syllables in the last line (or the reverse).

Suddenly I knew I wanted to combine my Poetry Friday post with Sharing Our Stories - Open Invitation #17: Have fun! And I remembered the box of words I've clipped and saved, inspired by Leigh Anne Eck's found poems she wrote for National Poetry Month in April. 

So I opened that box of words and reminded myself that summer is flying by and I need to relish the days (yes, even during the pandemic). Here's my playful attempt (thanks, Ruth) at writing my first nonet (thanks, Irene) using my box of saved words (thanks, Leigh Anne). It was fun!

Dream

Enjoy

Celebrate

Play every day

Delicious summer

Everyone's invited

Walk, dance, party, linger in

ice cream days of songs and stories

Go! Create, cut-up, glow, be happy.
- Ramona Behnke

To savor the magic of story, join the fun each week by linking your story at Sharing Our Stories. 

SOL: Book Joy! and #52Stories 29/52

#52Stories is my attempt to write 52 stories from my life during the year 2020. At least one story a week, in no particular order, to remember and document some of the memories and moments of my life.

We read books multiple times a day, every time I watch the grand boys.

I celebrate these recent book connections from three and a half year old grandson Jack with joy and a bit of grandmotherly pride.

• The first connection occurred as Sara was making pancakes. Jack noted that they were feasting on pancakes just like chipmunk did in the poem, "Breakfast." I recently shared Toasting Marshamallows: Camping Poems by Kristin O'Connell George with my daughter so that Jack would know what to expect on their upcoming camping trip. And then I worried that it was too advanced for him, but apparently, you're never too young for good poems.

• Jack was getting ready for a backyard camp out with his dad. They set up the tent. They put the sleeping bags in the tent. They were planning to have s'mores. So Jack suggested that they hunt for firewood to build a fire (even though they were roasting marshmallows over their outdoor grill). Because that's how they do it in Henry and Mudge and the Starry Night.   

• Last week, Jack was busy previewing one of the books from my book bag. I glanced over and thought, Rude Cakes by Rowboat Watkins is a tough one to figure out on your own. But Jack puzzled his way through the pages and ended the book with this proclamation, "It has a happy ending."

And this photo of fifteen month old Robby and his dad engrossed in the Sunday paper is priceless!

You can't help but be delighted when the next generation shares your love of books.