52. Little girl's giggles as she discovers the joys of planting beans.
53. Hard work well done.
54. Learning together.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Just a thought
From iGoogle's Quotes of the Day:
I think this is part of why we find life here sometimes challenging. We are used to the idea of space.
In the United States there is more space where nobody is than where anybody is. That is what makes America what it is.
- Gertrude Stein
I think this is part of why we find life here sometimes challenging. We are used to the idea of space.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Random Thoughts
The weather has turned cold here. Two nights this week have reached 60. The children wake up and shiver, rooting around for blankets in the hidden corners. How used to the heat we have become. But the poor feel the cold most of all. They do not - cannot - eat enough to produce extra body heat.
My garden is growing. Beans are reaching for the sky, lettuce trying to peek through. The tomato plants are gorgeous - sprouting new leaves nearly every day. But the carrots are being rebellious. They seem to prefer dying underground to growing toward the light.
School is nearly finished for the year. Songs and prayers, sums, wars, alphabets, and radish sprouts all studied, ingested, retold. And we are changed for the doing of it. Perhaps the teacher-mommy most of all.
A local girl, without a father, and with a mother whose new husband does not want her around, has found in me a soft spirit. She is certainly in need. Her grandfather, upon whom she relies for shelter, is badly disabled with leprosy. But I am limited by how little of her need I can understand. She had no shoes, it seems. She has no sweater for these cool nights, or so she tells me. It may very well be truth, but I can not read between the lines. I can not see into her soul. I must ask others to do this for me. So I have given a little - our eldest's sandals, too small for her by a bit, but something; a little food; some clothes for a younger sibling. But mostly, I wait to see what our co-workers can discern of her true need. It is hard to know how to help best.
A 4-year-old-girl's evening prayer brought a chuckle: "Dear Jesus, thank you for Mommy and Daddy and me and everybody in the whole world and my brothers and the neighbors and my friends, and that man to get out of jail (she refers to a colleague). And thank you that they live in a wood house and everything is ok. (??? perhaps the beavers in the Narnia book we are reading?) And Amen. I said AMEN!
Little moments stitched together. This is life.
My garden is growing. Beans are reaching for the sky, lettuce trying to peek through. The tomato plants are gorgeous - sprouting new leaves nearly every day. But the carrots are being rebellious. They seem to prefer dying underground to growing toward the light.
School is nearly finished for the year. Songs and prayers, sums, wars, alphabets, and radish sprouts all studied, ingested, retold. And we are changed for the doing of it. Perhaps the teacher-mommy most of all.
A local girl, without a father, and with a mother whose new husband does not want her around, has found in me a soft spirit. She is certainly in need. Her grandfather, upon whom she relies for shelter, is badly disabled with leprosy. But I am limited by how little of her need I can understand. She had no shoes, it seems. She has no sweater for these cool nights, or so she tells me. It may very well be truth, but I can not read between the lines. I can not see into her soul. I must ask others to do this for me. So I have given a little - our eldest's sandals, too small for her by a bit, but something; a little food; some clothes for a younger sibling. But mostly, I wait to see what our co-workers can discern of her true need. It is hard to know how to help best.
A 4-year-old-girl's evening prayer brought a chuckle: "Dear Jesus, thank you for Mommy and Daddy and me and everybody in the whole world and my brothers and the neighbors and my friends, and that man to get out of jail (she refers to a colleague). And thank you that they live in a wood house and everything is ok. (??? perhaps the beavers in the Narnia book we are reading?) And Amen. I said AMEN!
Little moments stitched together. This is life.
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