Good Friday... not yet jumping to Sunday

This morning I've learned of two different stories of young, vibrant, loving Christian people dying tragically.  They were both young, it was a quick and unexpected death for each of them.  Each left behind young children.  And I was overcome, wondering why such death, in such unexpected and seemingly random ways.  The goodness.  The blessing they were to those around them.  And then the Lord reminded me today is Good Friday.  And how another,  more blameless, more vibrant, more loving young man died.  We are always eager to get to Sunday-- we know in the back of our minds that He rose from the dead!  And yet, today, in the rainy, dreary day, I'm reminded of the sadness of His death.  That he suffered.  That Christ died for our sin-- the things we did wrong, He was punished for. 

Eva is learning about humility in church this month.  What greater humbling experience is it than to be reminded we are the cause of His death and punishment.  That He showed the ultimate humility in dying on the cross for us!

This Good Friday, I encourage you to take a moment and think about his sacrifice.  He was God-- but He suffered, out of His love for us!

Here's a link to a brief video on that Beautiful Scandalous Night.

Birthdays and Books

I have a thing for books.  Once you get to know me, you'll realize there are boxes of them in the garage, waiting to be displayed lovingly once again... once I have enough shelves to accommodate them.  I teach university courses online, and in some of those classes we only have e-books.  I'm saddened that I can't just leaf through it, to find bits of wisdom that might change my thinking forever. 

I love birthdays too.  Each year for my birthday-eve, since I was 15 years-old, I would curl up in bed, and ponder the year before.  I'd think about what had happened, what path I was on... but most importantly look to the year ahead.  It sounds a bit corny to write, but I'd also give each year a focus, a direction-- a name that would describe what that year I was looking for.  No examples here. Just your imagination.  :)

So, when Eva was born, it seemed fitting to write for her.  I found a sweet leather-bound journal and tearfully poured out my heart to her in a letter on the first pages.  The rest were yet to be written. I found the same sweet journal for Lucia when she was born.  Each year, on their birthdays (or, well let's be honest--sometimes a couple weeks after) I write them a "love letter." I reminisce about the special things they have done, their personalities and how they are developing, and my hopes for them.  It's my hope that they'll never know I'm doing it, until maybe their 16th or 18th birthdays (seriously, if you know Eva and Luci... ix-ney on the elling-tay!).  It's my hope that there's a glimpse in each letter of a piece of their childhood, part of who they were... those little things that can be forgotten so quickly and never caught in a baby-book, photo or birthday card.  It's my hope that they will also glean even just an ounce of how meaningful and overwhelming it has been for me to be their mother.  To help them realize this is such an honor. 

Lucia's birthday was last week, and yep-- I'm still needing to do my letter for Age 4.  But, that's okay.  I will.  At first I was so convinced that it would be forever ruined if I didn't actually write it on her birthday.  But... it actually is okay.  Sometimes I think we find the meaningful moments, the little things are too hard-- so much so that we just decide not to do it after all.  But, if I loosen the reigns a bit... I realize, sure enough, those special treasures... happen. 

Piedmont Parent Magazine's Young Author's Contest

I'm reminded this week, what a gift the opportunity to home school really is.  Together, we worked on a book for Eva to submit to the Piedmont Parent Magazine's young Author's contest for the Triad area.  This past fall, we set up a "writing factory," and went to town daily on story boards, binding materials, etc.  Eva mostly had a vision for the cover and illustrations.  It had to be blue sparkly paper, hot pink ric-rac, 3-D flower accents.... well, you get the idea.

Together, we spent time thinking about her story.  Every plot suggestion I thought I'd mention, she shot down.  She had a clear picture of her story.  The story that was coming from her own creative mind.  This project was her own.  As she thought about her story of the lonely puppy, she hugged our little Missy-- our sweet, cuddle-muffin of a toy poodle. She dedicated the book to her family, and her dog Missy, thinking about what a treasure her own puppy really was.  Amazingly, and certainly unexpectedly, a month after she submitted the book(in January), we had to put our little 3 year-old pup down due to severe illness (in February).  It made her story even more special.

As it turned out, Eva won for her age group for illustration!  While we were happily surprised, we were not shocked, as we recalled how special the process was for Eva.  Nana and Papa got to celebrate her accomplishment with us. 

Unexpectedly, Eva, along with the other student winners were asked to read their book to the audience.  For the illustration winners, they asked that they talk through their illustration process.  As you might imagine, being Eva's first public-speaking scenario, and without preparation-- she froze.  And really... I couldn't be more proud. 

And when all was said and done, the magazine Editor praised her publicly for her beautifully embellished book, the crowd applauded, and Eva was happy. She had a sense of accomplishment that goes beyond what she did or didn't do in that one speaking moment.  It didn't matter-- she knew what she had accomplished in the midst of it all.  Lesson learned.  Moment captured.

In the end, she wrote a story, saw her vision come to fruition, contemplated the special gift of a puppy and the loss of one.  She experienced recognition for her hard and meaning-filled work.  It was wonderful for us all.  And I learn through the process for myself, to look at myself with the same eyes filled with grace and pride that I see her with.  I know I can be hard on myself.  Perhaps with my adult eyes only looking at the little glimpses of what I didn't do, instead of holding onto what I did do.  And to feel good about it.  Lesson learned.  Teaching her and watching her grow and experience more gives me new insight for my own life.  Quite an education, this home-schooling thing. 

Who's "cool?"

My oldest, Eva, has been on a bit of a "cool" kick.  If it seems like it's cool, she wants to be a part of it.  In choosing her first Bible this week-- it was about which looked the "coolest," which apparently means teal and purple.    Her hair this morning for church... well, you get the idea.  This isn't a unique feature of childhood in our culture.  We're saturated with the notion that the most powerful thing you can do is become a very "cool" entertainer, perhaps instead of doing something of substance and lasting value.  As much as our girls are tiny, and don't watch media that suggests this... somehow they have gathered this idea.  This is the culture we call our own.

As I was perusing pictures from the last month, I came across a ton from Martin Luther King Jr. day.  Daddy was off work, and we had the opportunity to talk to the girls about people who really make a difference.  We spent time talking with them (at an age-appropriate level) about the history of inequality in our country--how people of lighter skin somehow thought they were worth more than people with darker skin.  This in and of itself is shocking to our girls, as we're a family with a few different variations in our skin tones (yay!).   We shared with them that Dr. King was brave in helping people make the right choice, and to help teach others to value everyone, regardless of the color of their skin.  We started the day at the mall, no shopping, but of serving with a number of organizations... making cards for servicemen and women, and making scarves and blankets for the homeless.

We then headed over to the local fire station.  We have recently made a new friend with a fire fighter from our local station.  He walked us around, gave the girls' a close-up view of what the fire truck looks like, and how they handle an emergency. 

 Of course, we accidentally left one of our phones in the parking lot that day. (I won't mention who's phone it was...but his picture is to the left... ahem...  ). The next morning, our friend came by, sleepy-eyed and somewhat dazed, to drop it off before he went on home.  He shared that the night before, they pulled two out of a fire, resuscitated them, and saved their lives.  All in a night's work.

 So... its all I can do to stress to our girls from a young age that these are the real "cool" ones.  The ones that step out when someone is treated unfairly. The one's who give time and resources and effort to make those who are out in the cold, a little warmer.  The ones who pull others out of burning buildings, and save their lives, and go on unnoticed.  It's my prayer that I can model for my girls the true definition of what's desirable to be like-- that cool means that you can make a powerful difference in the world around you, without having to get all the attention.  

So, I guess for us-- school was in session that day.  That was such  good learning-- something no curriculum could ever cover.  Pretty cool.