Author Archives: Amy Jane

Half an Eventful Saturday

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Had another lovely Third Saturday with the ladies of our church.

This month’s theme was a Garden Party and Basil. We were all dressed up– hats too– and one of the older women led a small devotional based around the gardening and growing metaphors in the bible.

Alternating with her was our master-gardener/hostess, talking about the physicality and uses of the basil she’d collected (at least six different types).

These were passed around and I marveled at how they were each so unique (Yes, I know “So unique” is redundant, but like “Learning by osmosis,” incorrect has become better understood than the correct. *sigh*)

We each planted some basil to take home, than came back inside for salad (garnished with our choice of the basils) and two different basil pizzas. (Desert was melon chunks, and, in keeping with the theme, someone had put a branch of basil on the mound of fruit in the serving dish. That collected several laughs.)

The morning was good time of conversation and encouragement (Somebody actually called me “perfect” today. Poor dear. I think she was a little over-eager to soothe some assumed hurt. But it was nice to hear anyway ;-) )

I was away until nearly 1p.m., and came home wondering how much Jay would have been able to do with the kids.

Coming in to a peaceful living room and catching his eye before the children noticed I was home, I must have been too eager to shut the front door, because I didn’t realize my finger was still there.

Jay saw what happened and was by me in a moment, looking at the mangled skin. I have never been a screamer, so he asked me (while lifting my hand above my head), “Childbirth being ten, where is this on the scale?”

He was mostly serious, and I wanted to laugh, but I was too busy slowing my breathing and trying to look at the damage (skin torn, mostly, and bruising). “I’m feeling light-headed,” I said, feeling a bit surprised.

“Yeah,” said Jay, swallowing and trying to keep my hand out of both our sights. “Me too.”

Ouch!

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Jay: How do you smash your own finger in the door?

Me: I was looking at the man I love and not thinking about what I was doing.

~

It’s a bit startling to be suddenly aware of the vast array of tasks the right index-finger may facilitate (or impede).

Stories and Their Poems

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I love finding a poem that pairs just perfectly with a story I’m attached to.

It doesn’t happen a lot, but twice it has happened magically. Here are those two. (I still need to memorize the second one).

~

To preface Half a Blanket (It took some practice to say this one with a clear voice. My Grandfather was very dear to me).

The Little Boy and the Old Man— by Shel Silverstein

Said the little boy, “Sometimes I drop my spoon.”
Said the little old man, “I do that too.”
The little boy whispered, “I wet my pants.”
“I do that too,” laughed the little old man.
Said the little boy, “I often cry.”
The old man nodded, “So do I.”
“But worst of all,” said the boy, “it seems
Grown-ups don’t pay attention to me.”
And he felt the touch of a wrinkled old hand.
“I know what you mean,” said the little old man.

From the book Poetry Speaks to Children, a poem by an anonymous Inuit poet and translated by Edward Field. It is the perfect companion to Raven and the Whale’s Burning Heart. It would also make a good transition piece between traditional Alaskan tales.

Magic Words

In the very earliest time,
when both people and animals lived on earth,
a person could become an animal if he wanted to
and an animal could become a human being.
Sometimes they were people
and sometimes they were animals
and there was no difference.
All spoke the same language.
That was the time when words were like magic.
The human mind had mysterious powers.
A word spoken by chance
might have strange consequences.
It would suddenly come alive
and what people wanted to happen could happen–
all you had to do was say it.
Nobody could explain this:
that’s the way it was.

WFMW– Managing Tele-fundraisers

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Tele-fundraisers– you know, like telemarketers, only they’re just asking for money, instead of trying to sell something.

I’ve nearly stopped receiving calls selling something, and we’re in between elections, so no more political pitches, but I still occasionally get calls asking for money for this or that organization.

These organizations have varying degrees of value or interest to me, but I now have a standard line for all of them:

“We have a house policy of never giving donations over the phone, as it encourages calling to solicit money.”

The last time this happened (Thursday evening), the caller tried to assure me it wasn’t over the phone because they would be mailing me a recipit. (Hmmm.)

As he seemed to want it, I (seriously!) gave him the whole schpeal:

Anyone who wants us to support them must send the request in the mail, along with a record of how they spend their money, including how much goes to fund-raising. With those materials in front of us my husband and I will decide if this is something we’re willing to support.

This type of a policy does several things to promote healthy patterns of giving.

  • it encourages accountability (I’ve been told some organizations spend 40% and more of what they bring in to raise more money.)
  • it curbs impulse or “emotional” giving that may be unwise
  • it allows time to pray over an opportunity, and be sure it is the best place to invest your generosity.

I’m all for supporting the ministry of trustworthy organizations: they have the connections and usually the experience to see the money is well managed.

The strike against telephone solicitors is the same as that against the people asking for money on the street: The need may be genuine, and the money may be well-spent, but the decision would be rushed either way, and not be subject to any closer scrutiny.

Money you give to a question-mark is money you can’t give elsewhere, so I urge you to use wisdom and discernment as you decide where to give.

Visit more of Works for me Wednesday.

Giving God Advice– a Tuesday Tale

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A malcontent was sitting under a tree looking at a neighbor’s pumpkin patch.

“You sure got that one wrong, God,” the complainer said.  “Here’s this great, beautiful tree bearing tiny nuts, while a mere vine yields pumpkins.”

At that moment a nut broke loose and bounced off the malcontent’s head.

“Never mind, God.  You knew what you were doing.  I could have been dead if you followed my advice.”

Gotta love what they take away…

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(Cross-posted at the family site)

We read the story of Adam and Eve last week from the girls’ bible.

I read the part about Eve’s creation and reminded the girls what ribs are (Natasha’s favorite book for a while was the Eyewitness Skeleton book, so that pleased her).

Incidentally, I loved that, since I don’t see any reason to encourage the idea (perpetuated by the Halloween marketers) that skeletons are something to be afraid of. I think they are marvelously designed, and it’s good to appreciate that.

Anyway, the girls were talking on their phones to each other, playacting being other people, when this exchange took place and I had to drop everything and write it down.

M: How are you doing today?
N: Not so good. God just took a rib out of me to make a woman.
M: Oh my.
N: Yes. And When I woke up, it was awful! I went to feel my bone and it wasn’t there– it was all mushy.

Human Words

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I knew a blind man whom a surgeon helped to see.
The doctor never had a lover such as he.
It is in such a way that singers love composers.

–Calvin Miller
The Singer

I could say nearly the same thing about certain writers. Or, at least what they’ve written.

Being a Believer I feel a certain sense of… awkwardness? tentativeness? when I find that I quote human writers as quickly as I quote scripture.

Anyone who pokes around this blog very long knows I enjoy Story, and frequently interpret my experience through that prism.

As I’m sure I’ve said before, I see folktales as the ultimate distillation of human nature– the good and the bad– and am quite willing to use them as examples to make a point.

In Christian circles, however, this seems to be an iffy choice.

Once the topic of a wife’s influence came up, and the analogy of kings and queens. I eagerly added to the conversation that the image of a queen interceding with the king is a common theme in folklore. An older Christian woman seemed bothered by my choice of example.

“But where do you see that in Scripture?” she asked.

“Esther!” I replied after a blink, not sure if she was challenging me or just quizzing me.

I have a memory that seems wired for remembering quotes (or at least their essence) and turns of phrase. I frequently find myself using those words from other people– other writers– when attempting to best express myself.

Sometimes I remember the queen exchange, and I feel like I’m not supposed to be so attached to human words, Scripture being our only/ultimate authority and all that.

But then I figure, I’m human, and no one is expecting my words to be the oracles of God. Why should anyone assume I think another human’s words are?

Adding Music?

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Thinking with my fingertips again.
Attempting to ignore the sniffles, heartbroken, for my benefit, across the hall.

It’s nap-time.

~

Always in this state of constant reevaluation I’ve been looking again at music lessons/time for the girls. (My own regular time in practice has petered out and I am seeking for a way to reintegrate it.)

The poking around I call research has led me to some interesting new thoughts about children and instruments. I agree with the conclusion (per Suzuki) that parents can introduce anything that is important to them (I’m naturally thinking of Faith at this moment), but also agree with the author I link to above that the biggest problem in learning an instrument can be starting too early.

These ideas do mesh well enough. Cutietta attributes the problem to something calls learned helplessness: A child is “started” on an instrument (by his own or his parents’ choice) that she is not physically able to manipulate properly, and learns she can’t do it, no matter how had she tries.

Especially if the child is sensitive, this repeated failure despite effort saps his heart’s willingness to continue, so much that by the time he’s actually big enough, this child already “knows” he can’t do it, no matter how hard he tries.

This is a very similar phenomenon to the one I’ve heard where the baby elephant is trained that the ankle chain is too strong for him to break free of, and he continues to believe it is true even as an adult, when it no longer is.

Suzuki gets around this by training young children on instruments that have been sized especially for them.

~

With this in mind, I’ve avoided putting too much emphasis on “real” guitar playing, as even my Baby Taylor is too large for my girls.

At my husband’s suggestion (he was getting some sound-equipment for the church at the music store) I went and bought the girls a ukulele. It is a lovely size for them, and they enjoy playing it while I practice guitar.

Now I am poking around again, and trying to find if I can do something Suzuki-ish with ukulele.

My (currently) biggest difficulty is that the most-available resources (what I’ve found so far) all emphasize the Hawaiian roots (it was originally from Portugal, I understand) and, naturally, their music.

This is not at all interesting or motivating to my girls, because they have no familiarity with that type of music. (Smack me if you must, but I am not drawn to it either, which would be why they haven’t heard it.)

So… if any of my vast readership have any resources or ideas (my dad is on a cross-country trip or I would have started there) of how to adapt the ukulele to ear-training-based, classical (-ish) music, I’d be interested to hear it.

Next question (naturally) is proving it is important enough to move from desirable in the hierarchy to actively doing.

That remains to be seen.

What is Boredom?

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I’m cheating. This is not a post about what to do (or get your kids to do) to avoid boredom. It is a reference to an earlier post that talks more about the substance of boredom. What is boredom? Where did it come from?

I understand if you don’t want to think (abstractly?) this time of year. I hear that’s normal. Maybe the heat…? ;-)

Anyway, it is an interesting perspective (not my own, originally, it’s an excerpt from a book) and I hope you click over if the idea intrigues you.

Be sure to visit Rocks in my Dryer for a sandbox of unique ideas for summer.

Blessings on your day!