Queen Shenaynay
Hurricane Katrina has left many thousands of children without schools this coming school year. This is just one aspect of this crisis, but it is one with enormous implications. I've read reports this morning of churches in Texas and perhaps elsewhere that are setting up ministries to help evacuees begin the process of homeschooling to help these displaced families get through this crisis.
At times like this, I'm even more thankful for the Ambleside Online curriculum, which is available for free online. If you know of a church or an organization that is trying to help evacuated families get set up to educate their children, please make sure they are aware of this free resource.
* * * * * * *
UPDATE: The AO Advisory is working furiously today to put together an emergency-use version of AO for Hurricane Katrina victims who desperately need a school plan fast. It will be completely FREE, user-friendly and immediately available to print out and use with younger children. We will have it on our webpage shortly.
* * * * * * *
These families also desperately need supplies. There is a way we can help.
Project Noah is an organization that helps homeschool families in the wake of disasters like this hurricane. They are getting in motion to organize relief efforts for Hurricane Katrina, and will be updating their website with more pertinent info asap.
You can send supplies to Project Noah and they will distribute them. Just think about the things you would need if you had to set up your homeschool all over again, and far from home. If you have duplicate books or curriculum materials you were planning to sell, please consider mailing them to Project Noah to help children in need.
One of our Ambleside Online moms from Louisiana wrote this morning that her family fled north to a relative's home, and have been told that they cannot return to their parish/county for two to three months. They did not have time to collect their school things, and are hoping they can rely on the library system and the internet -- but many libraries in the region are simply gone. This is just one story among thousands.
Mostly, please pray -- but also do something. Katrina's devastation is unfathomable.
August 31, 2005
Words of Wisdom
Great Scot
This last weekend, I had the opportunity to get to know better a number of outstanding young adults. This lead me to ponder the sage advice I would give them. The following would be some of the things that I would want them to know:
1. The journey of a thousand miles begins with a broken fan belt and leaky tire.
2. It's always darkest before dawn. So if you're going to steal your neighbor's newspaper, that's the time to do it.
3. Don't be irreplaceable. If you can't be replaced, you can't be promoted.
4. Always remember that you're unique. Just like everyone else.
5. Never test the depth of the water with both feet.
6. Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes. That way, when you criticize them, you're a mile away and you have their shoes.
7. If at first you don't succeed, skydiving is not for you.
8. If you tell the truth, you don't have to remember anything.
9. Some days you're the bug; some days you're the windshield.
10. Everyone seems normal until you get to know them.
11. The quickest way to double your money is to fold it in half and put it back in your pocket.
12. A closed mouth gathers no foot.
13. Duct tape is like 'The Force'. It has a light side and a dark side, and it holds the universe together.
14. Generally speaking, you aren't learning much when your lips are moving.
15. Experience is something you don't get until just after you need it.
16. Never miss a good chance to shut up.
and finally
17. Never, under any circumstances, take a sleeping pill and a laxative on the same night.
This last weekend, I had the opportunity to get to know better a number of outstanding young adults. This lead me to ponder the sage advice I would give them. The following would be some of the things that I would want them to know:
1. The journey of a thousand miles begins with a broken fan belt and leaky tire.
2. It's always darkest before dawn. So if you're going to steal your neighbor's newspaper, that's the time to do it.
3. Don't be irreplaceable. If you can't be replaced, you can't be promoted.
4. Always remember that you're unique. Just like everyone else.
5. Never test the depth of the water with both feet.
6. Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes. That way, when you criticize them, you're a mile away and you have their shoes.
7. If at first you don't succeed, skydiving is not for you.
8. If you tell the truth, you don't have to remember anything.
9. Some days you're the bug; some days you're the windshield.
10. Everyone seems normal until you get to know them.
11. The quickest way to double your money is to fold it in half and put it back in your pocket.
12. A closed mouth gathers no foot.
13. Duct tape is like 'The Force'. It has a light side and a dark side, and it holds the universe together.
14. Generally speaking, you aren't learning much when your lips are moving.
15. Experience is something you don't get until just after you need it.
16. Never miss a good chance to shut up.
and finally
17. Never, under any circumstances, take a sleeping pill and a laxative on the same night.
August 23, 2005
What is love?
Great Scot
A group of professional people posed this question to a group of 4 to 8 year-olds: "What does love mean?" The answers they got were broader and deeper than anyone could have imagined. See what you think:
"When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different.
You just know that your name is safe in their mouth." Billy - age 4
"Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne
and they go out and smell each other." Karl - age 5
"Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of
your French fries without making them give you any of theirs." Chrissy - age 6
"Love is what makes you smile when you're tired." Terri - age 4
"Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas
if you stop opening presents and listen." Bobby - age 7
"During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared.
I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving
and smiling. He was the only one doing that.
I wasn't scared anymore." Cindy - age 8
"Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken."
Elaine-age 5 (GS - Amen to that)
"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still
says he is handsomer than Robert Redford." Chris - age 7 (GS - ditto)
"I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all
her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones."
Lauren - age 4 (GS - that one was for the Shieldmaiden)
"You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it.
But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget." Jessica - age 8
"Clouds, Dan, clouds!" Queen Shenaynay - age... whatever...
A group of professional people posed this question to a group of 4 to 8 year-olds: "What does love mean?" The answers they got were broader and deeper than anyone could have imagined. See what you think:
"When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different.
You just know that your name is safe in their mouth." Billy - age 4
"Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne
and they go out and smell each other." Karl - age 5
"Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of
your French fries without making them give you any of theirs." Chrissy - age 6
"Love is what makes you smile when you're tired." Terri - age 4
"Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas
if you stop opening presents and listen." Bobby - age 7
"During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared.
I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving
and smiling. He was the only one doing that.
I wasn't scared anymore." Cindy - age 8
"Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken."
Elaine-age 5 (GS - Amen to that)
"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still
says he is handsomer than Robert Redford." Chris - age 7 (GS - ditto)
"I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all
her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones."
Lauren - age 4 (GS - that one was for the Shieldmaiden)
"You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it.
But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget." Jessica - age 8
"Clouds, Dan, clouds!" Queen Shenaynay - age... whatever...
August 22, 2005
Messing about in boats
Queen Shenaynay
We spent today at a gorgeous, quiet lake with some of our very dearest friends. A storm gathered just as we arrived, and we sat under shelter and ate M&Ms while watching lightning flash and rain fall on the water. It was beautiful. The clouds cleared after a while, and most of our entourage launched away in a couple of rowboats in the sunshine. Back at the dock, we could hear their laughter skipping across the water and echoing off the rock canyon walls well after they had rounded the bend and we could no longer see them.
Toward twilight, we took a pontoon boat out for a long spin around the lake, with the kids serenading us in harmony from the bow. We stopped at a sandy spot for a sunset dinner on board. A little stone-skipping, a bit of swimming, and then we boated back to the dock in darkness, with only the moon for light. Ahhhhh.
In The Wind in the Willows, Ratty proclaims to Moley, "There is nothing- absolutely nothing- half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats. In or out of 'em, it doesn't matter. Nothing seems really to matter, that's the charm of it."
It was a charming day. Made me think of a favorite poem, one that I quote under my breath quite often on days that are not so charming as today has been...
The Lake Isle of Innisfree
by William Butler Yeats
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.
We spent today at a gorgeous, quiet lake with some of our very dearest friends. A storm gathered just as we arrived, and we sat under shelter and ate M&Ms while watching lightning flash and rain fall on the water. It was beautiful. The clouds cleared after a while, and most of our entourage launched away in a couple of rowboats in the sunshine. Back at the dock, we could hear their laughter skipping across the water and echoing off the rock canyon walls well after they had rounded the bend and we could no longer see them.
Toward twilight, we took a pontoon boat out for a long spin around the lake, with the kids serenading us in harmony from the bow. We stopped at a sandy spot for a sunset dinner on board. A little stone-skipping, a bit of swimming, and then we boated back to the dock in darkness, with only the moon for light. Ahhhhh.
In The Wind in the Willows, Ratty proclaims to Moley, "There is nothing- absolutely nothing- half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats. In or out of 'em, it doesn't matter. Nothing seems really to matter, that's the charm of it."
It was a charming day. Made me think of a favorite poem, one that I quote under my breath quite often on days that are not so charming as today has been...
The Lake Isle of Innisfree
by William Butler Yeats
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.
August 21, 2005
A Sufficient Quote
Queen Shenaynay
"One evening," said C. H. Spurgeon, "I was riding home after a heavy day's work, weary and sore depressed, when suddenly, as a lightning flash, came: 'My grace is sufficient for thee.' And I said: 'I should think it is, Lord,' and burst out laughing. It seemed to make unbelief so absurd.
"It was as if some little fish, being very thirsty, was troubled about drinking the river dry; and Father Thames said: 'Drink away, little fish, my stream is sufficient for thee.' Or it seemed like a little mouse in the granaries of Egypt after seven years of plenty, fearing it might die of famine, and Joseph might say: 'Cheer up, little mouse, my granaries are sufficient for thee.' Again I imagined a man away up yonder on the mountain saying to himself: 'I fear I shall exhaust all the oxygen in the atmosphere.' But the earth might say: 'Breathe away, O man, and fill thy lungs ever. My atmosphere is sufficient for thee.'"
"One evening," said C. H. Spurgeon, "I was riding home after a heavy day's work, weary and sore depressed, when suddenly, as a lightning flash, came: 'My grace is sufficient for thee.' And I said: 'I should think it is, Lord,' and burst out laughing. It seemed to make unbelief so absurd.
"It was as if some little fish, being very thirsty, was troubled about drinking the river dry; and Father Thames said: 'Drink away, little fish, my stream is sufficient for thee.' Or it seemed like a little mouse in the granaries of Egypt after seven years of plenty, fearing it might die of famine, and Joseph might say: 'Cheer up, little mouse, my granaries are sufficient for thee.' Again I imagined a man away up yonder on the mountain saying to himself: 'I fear I shall exhaust all the oxygen in the atmosphere.' But the earth might say: 'Breathe away, O man, and fill thy lungs ever. My atmosphere is sufficient for thee.'"
August 18, 2005
Sing, con allegria!
Please, please do go read this timely essay at the National Review. It's a subject very dear to our hearts here at the Beehive.
Go on, we'll wait.
* * * * * * * *
Now then, start life over with better rules. Surprise your friends and neighbors by singing at odd moments. We do, always have, and we can reassure you up front that it's usually a good thing. It's cheerful and affirming and diverting and... normal. Not average, mind you, not anymore... but it IS normal. The rest of the world may have waxed abnormal in this regard, but that doesn't mean we have to.
Singing makes the world a better place.
Go on, we'll wait.
* * * * * * * *
Now then, start life over with better rules. Surprise your friends and neighbors by singing at odd moments. We do, always have, and we can reassure you up front that it's usually a good thing. It's cheerful and affirming and diverting and... normal. Not average, mind you, not anymore... but it IS normal. The rest of the world may have waxed abnormal in this regard, but that doesn't mean we have to.
Singing makes the world a better place.
August 17, 2005
A Quote
"When you break the the big laws, you do not get liberty; you do not even get anarchy. You get the small laws."
--G. K. Chesterton
--G. K. Chesterton
August 16, 2005
Jane went to Paradise...
Jane's Marriage
by Rudyard Kipling
Jane went to Paradise:
That was only fair.
Good Sir Walter followed her,
And armed her up the stair.
Henry and Tobias,
And Miguel of Spain,
Stood with Shakespeare at the top
To welcome Jane--
Then the Three Archangels
Offered out of hand
Anything in Heaven's gift
That she might command.
Azrael's eyes upon her,
Raphael's wings above,
Michael's sword against her heart,
Jane said: "Love."
Instantly the under-
Standing Seraphim
Laid their fingers on their lips
And went to look for him.
Stole across the Zodiac,
Harnessed Charles's Wain,
And whispered round the Nebulae
"Who loved Jane?"
In a private limbo
Where none had thought to look,
Sat a Hampshire gentleman
Reading of a book.
It was called Persuasion
And it told the plain
Story of the love between
Him and Jane.
He heard the question,
Circle Heaven through--
Closed the book and answered:
"I did -- and do!"
Quietly but speedily
(As Captain Wentworth moved)
Entered into Paradise
The man Jane loved!
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Notes from www.pemberley.com:
Henry and Tobias: Apparently Henry Fielding 1707-1754 (author of Tom Jones) and Tobias Smollet 1721-1771 (author of Humphry Clinker).
"Miguel of Spain": Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra 1547-1616, author of Don Quixote.
"Charles's Wain": Or "wagon", i.e. the Big Dipper.
"Quietly but speedily": The manner in which Captain Wentworth removed the child from Anne Elliot's back at Uppercross, in Persuasion.
by Rudyard Kipling
Jane went to Paradise:
That was only fair.
Good Sir Walter followed her,
And armed her up the stair.
Henry and Tobias,
And Miguel of Spain,
Stood with Shakespeare at the top
To welcome Jane--
Then the Three Archangels
Offered out of hand
Anything in Heaven's gift
That she might command.
Azrael's eyes upon her,
Raphael's wings above,
Michael's sword against her heart,
Jane said: "Love."
Instantly the under-
Standing Seraphim
Laid their fingers on their lips
And went to look for him.
Stole across the Zodiac,
Harnessed Charles's Wain,
And whispered round the Nebulae
"Who loved Jane?"
In a private limbo
Where none had thought to look,
Sat a Hampshire gentleman
Reading of a book.
It was called Persuasion
And it told the plain
Story of the love between
Him and Jane.
He heard the question,
Circle Heaven through--
Closed the book and answered:
"I did -- and do!"
Quietly but speedily
(As Captain Wentworth moved)
Entered into Paradise
The man Jane loved!
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Notes from www.pemberley.com:
Henry and Tobias: Apparently Henry Fielding 1707-1754 (author of Tom Jones) and Tobias Smollet 1721-1771 (author of Humphry Clinker).
"Miguel of Spain": Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra 1547-1616, author of Don Quixote.
"Charles's Wain": Or "wagon", i.e. the Big Dipper.
"Quietly but speedily": The manner in which Captain Wentworth removed the child from Anne Elliot's back at Uppercross, in Persuasion.
August 15, 2005
A Moment in Troy
This is one of my favorite poems. It reminds me very much of The Shieldmaiden's and my exploits when we were younger.
A Moment in Troy
Little girls--
skinny, resigned
to freckles that won't go away,
not turning any heads
as they walk across the eyelids of the world,
looking just like Mom or Dad,
and sincerely horrified by it--
in the middle of dinner,
in the middle of a book,
while studying the mirror,
may suddenly be taken off to Troy.
In the grand boudoir of a wink
they all turn into beautiful Helens.
They ascend the royal staircase
in the rustling silk of admiration.
They feel light. They all know,
that beauty equals rest,
that lips mold the speech's meaning,
and gestures sculpt themselves
in inspired nonchalance.
Their small faces
worth dismissing envoys for
extend proudly on necks
that merit countless sieges.
Those tall dark movie stars,
their girlfriend's older brothers,
the teacher from art class,
alas, they must all be slain.
Little girls
observe disaster
from a tower of smiles.
Little girls
wring their hands
in intoxicating mock despair.
Little girls
against a backdrop of destruction,
with flaming towns for tiaras,
in earrings of pandemic lamentation.
Pale and tearless.
Triumphant. Sated with the view.
Dreading only the inevitable
moment of return.
Little girls
returning.
--Wislawa Szymborska
A Moment in Troy
Little girls--
skinny, resigned
to freckles that won't go away,
not turning any heads
as they walk across the eyelids of the world,
looking just like Mom or Dad,
and sincerely horrified by it--
in the middle of dinner,
in the middle of a book,
while studying the mirror,
may suddenly be taken off to Troy.
In the grand boudoir of a wink
they all turn into beautiful Helens.
They ascend the royal staircase
in the rustling silk of admiration.
They feel light. They all know,
that beauty equals rest,
that lips mold the speech's meaning,
and gestures sculpt themselves
in inspired nonchalance.
Their small faces
worth dismissing envoys for
extend proudly on necks
that merit countless sieges.
Those tall dark movie stars,
their girlfriend's older brothers,
the teacher from art class,
alas, they must all be slain.
Little girls
observe disaster
from a tower of smiles.
Little girls
wring their hands
in intoxicating mock despair.
Little girls
against a backdrop of destruction,
with flaming towns for tiaras,
in earrings of pandemic lamentation.
Pale and tearless.
Triumphant. Sated with the view.
Dreading only the inevitable
moment of return.
Little girls
returning.
--Wislawa Szymborska
August 13, 2005
Tonight's Dinner Music
Battlefield Band - Rain, Hail or Shinewith muckle* thanks to my fellow Fechtie Heidsman, a thoughtful and generous lad.
(Boom shakalaka, boom shakalakahhh!)
Bonny good tunes, and aye, the lassies liked 'em, too! Thanks!
-- Great Scot
[*MUCKLE, adj. 1. Of size or bulk: large, big, great]
WSTFD, Part 2
Wherein Queen Shenaynay and Fa-So-La-La
Carry On a Meaningful Dialogue
and Provide Their Considered Opinions
For those Beehive Faithful who don't give a bazooka about Nickel Creek, we grant you gentle permission to proceed to the next blog item. Really, we do understand.
But for those who are NC-inclined, and for some reason actually care what we think of their new cd, please click on the comments. We chose to post our bit there, so that those of the first category would not have to spend half the day scrolling down our blog to get past it.
Translation: We're either long-winded, or have fully self-actualized opinions. Please do not vote for one or the other.
Carry On a Meaningful Dialogue
and Provide Their Considered Opinions
For those Beehive Faithful who don't give a bazooka about Nickel Creek, we grant you gentle permission to proceed to the next blog item. Really, we do understand.But for those who are NC-inclined, and for some reason actually care what we think of their new cd, please click on the comments. We chose to post our bit there, so that those of the first category would not have to spend half the day scrolling down our blog to get past it.
Translation: We're either long-winded, or have fully self-actualized opinions. Please do not vote for one or the other.
August 12, 2005
Filled with Glory
Fa-So-La-La
"Francie went over to stand at the great window from which she could see the East River twenty stories below. It was the last time she'd see the river from that window. The last time of anything has the poignancy of death itself. This that I see now, she thought, to see no more this way. Oh, the last time how clearly you see everything; as though a magnifying light had been turned on it. And you grieve because you hadn't held it tighter when you had it every day.
"What had granma Mary Rommely said? "To look at everything always as though you were seeing it either for the first or last time: Thus is your time on earth filled with glory."
--- From A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith
"Francie went over to stand at the great window from which she could see the East River twenty stories below. It was the last time she'd see the river from that window. The last time of anything has the poignancy of death itself. This that I see now, she thought, to see no more this way. Oh, the last time how clearly you see everything; as though a magnifying light had been turned on it. And you grieve because you hadn't held it tighter when you had it every day.
"What had granma Mary Rommely said? "To look at everything always as though you were seeing it either for the first or last time: Thus is your time on earth filled with glory."
--- From A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith
August 11, 2005
A Very, Very Large Room
Fa-So-La-La
Well, we are visiting my grandparents, and today Sugar Cookie (our grandmother) gave us the job of organizing the book shelves. My grandfather (otherwise known as Dadaw) has quite the eclectic book collection, to go with his quite eclectic life-- he is a preacher, a farmer, a welder, a builder, a former piano tuner and pre-med student, a husband, a father and grandfather, and many other things. The Shieldmaiden and I had quite a time examining his books. Here are a few gems we found--
-- Fundamentals of Petroleum (I love saying this! It sounds so academic, to be about....petroleum.)
--The Naked Capitalist
--Escape the Coming Tribulation!
--The Complete Book of Composting (this one is at least four inches thick-- didn't know there was so much involved in composting!)
--A Psycho-History of Zionism
--Experimental Preaching (What are we, guinea pigs? Lab rats?)
--Prepare Now For a Metric Future!
--The Place of Satan in the Economy of Creation
--The Bible and the Bermuda Triangle (ahahahahaha.....this one makes me laugh every time!)
This is just a very small sample of the books we sorted and shelved today-- I wish I could show y'all the rest. It's a vivid picture of an amazing man. Queenie always says that we need to have our 'feet planted in a large room,' meaning that our range of interest should be wide, and our horizons vast. Dadaw's 'room' is one of the largest I have ever seen. I pray that I will always be as thirsty for knowledge as he is.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Queen appends:
Given the titles Fa-So-La-La chose for examples, I should probably also add, for the sake of our gentle readers who only own books they like and/or agree with, that my father cannot be defined by the viewpoints and opinions that occupy his bookshelves.
Like all original thinkers, he can be quite the contrarian, and as such he derives immense intellectual stimulation from reading books that oppose his own point of view.
::end of caveat::
Well, we are visiting my grandparents, and today Sugar Cookie (our grandmother) gave us the job of organizing the book shelves. My grandfather (otherwise known as Dadaw) has quite the eclectic book collection, to go with his quite eclectic life-- he is a preacher, a farmer, a welder, a builder, a former piano tuner and pre-med student, a husband, a father and grandfather, and many other things. The Shieldmaiden and I had quite a time examining his books. Here are a few gems we found--
-- Fundamentals of Petroleum (I love saying this! It sounds so academic, to be about....petroleum.)
--The Naked Capitalist
--Escape the Coming Tribulation!
--The Complete Book of Composting (this one is at least four inches thick-- didn't know there was so much involved in composting!)
--A Psycho-History of Zionism
--Experimental Preaching (What are we, guinea pigs? Lab rats?)
--Prepare Now For a Metric Future!
--The Place of Satan in the Economy of Creation
--The Bible and the Bermuda Triangle (ahahahahaha.....this one makes me laugh every time!)
This is just a very small sample of the books we sorted and shelved today-- I wish I could show y'all the rest. It's a vivid picture of an amazing man. Queenie always says that we need to have our 'feet planted in a large room,' meaning that our range of interest should be wide, and our horizons vast. Dadaw's 'room' is one of the largest I have ever seen. I pray that I will always be as thirsty for knowledge as he is.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Queen appends:
Given the titles Fa-So-La-La chose for examples, I should probably also add, for the sake of our gentle readers who only own books they like and/or agree with, that my father cannot be defined by the viewpoints and opinions that occupy his bookshelves.
Like all original thinkers, he can be quite the contrarian, and as such he derives immense intellectual stimulation from reading books that oppose his own point of view.
::end of caveat::
August 10, 2005
WSTFD
Which, for the uninformed, unenlightened, and behind-the-times amongst us, stands for Why Should The Fire Die?, the latest album from Nickel Creek.
Yesterday, August 9th, 2005, was an auspicious occasion-- the release of the first Nickel Creek album in 2 or 3 years. I pride myself on being the first to buy it at our local Barnes & Noble.
(No, I am not such a fanatic that I went to B&N just to buy the album. We just so happened to be there on the release date! Honest!)
Now, I am not going to blog my opinions about it today. I have only listened to it three times, and so I am not ready to give my opinion. After all, I have not had a chance to form a relationship with it, which sounds frightfully stupid but is really the truth. You have to become aquainted with an album, so to speak, before you can judge it.
In the meantime, here is some WSTFD stuff for you--
Amazon reviews here.
Another review here at Shed of Emotions.
Music video for "When in Rome"
Interview with Chris Thile.
Nickel Creek Journal Page
Enjoy!
Yesterday, August 9th, 2005, was an auspicious occasion-- the release of the first Nickel Creek album in 2 or 3 years. I pride myself on being the first to buy it at our local Barnes & Noble.(No, I am not such a fanatic that I went to B&N just to buy the album. We just so happened to be there on the release date! Honest!)
Now, I am not going to blog my opinions about it today. I have only listened to it three times, and so I am not ready to give my opinion. After all, I have not had a chance to form a relationship with it, which sounds frightfully stupid but is really the truth. You have to become aquainted with an album, so to speak, before you can judge it.
In the meantime, here is some WSTFD stuff for you--
Amazon reviews here.
Another review here at Shed of Emotions.
Music video for "When in Rome"
Interview with Chris Thile.
Nickel Creek Journal Page
Enjoy!
August 9, 2005
I am Elinor Dashwood
Fa-So-La-La
Who are you? Take the quiz! (Come on, fellows -- you can do it, too.)
(Don't try the link on the Elinor thumbnail -- it's defunct as of yesterday, apparently!)
According to the new quiz, I am
"The Pride and Prejudice type: Truly an Austenite,
this type is a Romantic at heart, but they
always keep their head and are wary of
melodrama. Lively, clever, and independent.
These people are easily amused by their own
foibles and the quirkly foibles of others. They
lament society today, and dream of the time
when guys were gentlemen and girls were ladies."
Who needs you?
Queen Shenaynay
My good friend Melissa Pritchett sent this to me today, and I found it very moving and inspiring.
Beth Moore, the author, is a writer of Bible studies and a married mother of 2 daughters. She is a member of First Baptist Church in Houston.
Beth Moore April 20, 2005 Knoxville Airport - Waiting to board the plane: I had the Bible on my lap and was very intent upon what I was doing. I'd had a marvelous morning with the Lord.
I say that because I want to tell you it is a scary thing to have the Spirit of God really working in you.
You could end up doing some things you never would have done otherwise. Life in the Spirit can be dangerous for a thousand reasons not the least of which is your ego...
I tried to keep from staring but he was such a strange sight. Humped over in a wheelchair, he was skin and bones, dressed in clothes that obviously fit when he was at least twenty pounds heavier. His knees protruded from his trousers, and his shoulders looked like the coat hanger was still in his shirt. His hands looked like tangled masses of veins and bones. The strangest part of him was his hair and nails. Stringy gray air hung well over his shoulders and down part of his back. His fingernails were long. Clean, but strangely out of place on an old man.
I looked down at my Bible as fast as I could, discomfort burning my face. As I tried to imagine what his story might have been, I found myself wondering if I'd just had a Howard Hughes sighting.
Then, I remembered that he was dead. So this man in the airport... an impersonator maybe? Was a camera on us somewhere?....
There I sat trying to concentrate on the Word to keep from being concerned about a thin slice of humanity served on a wheelchair only a few seats from me. All the while my heart was growing more and more overwhelmed with a feeling for him. Let's admit it. Curiosity is a heap more comfortable than true concern, and suddenly I was awash with aching emotion for this bizarre-looking old man.
I had walked with God long enough to see the handwriting on the wall. I have learned that when I begin to feel what God feels, something so contrary to my natural feelings, something dramatic is bound to happen. And it may be embarrassing. I immediately began to resist because I could feel God working on my spirit and I started arguing with God in my mind.
"Oh no, God please no." I looked up at the ceiling as if I could stare straight through it into heaven and said, "Don't make me witness to this man. Not right here and now. Please. I'll do anything. Put me on the same plane, but don't make me get up here and witness to this man in front of this gawking audience."
"Please, Lord!"...
There I sat in the blue vinyl chair begging His Highness, "Please don't make me witness to this man. Not now. I'll do it on the plane."
Then I heard it..."I don't want you to witness to him. I want you to brush his hair."
The words were so clear, my heart leapt into my throat, and my thoughts spun like a top. Do I witness to the man or brush his hair?
No brainer. I looked straight back up at the ceiling and said, "God, as I live and breathe, I want you to know I am ready to witness to this man. I'm on this, Lord. I'm you're girl! You've never seen a woman witness to a man faster in your life. What difference does it make if his hair is a mess if he is not redeemed? I am on him. I am going to witness to this man."
Again as clearly as I've ever heard an audible word, God seemed to write this statement across the wall of my mind: "That is not what I said, Beth. I don't want you to witness to him. I want you to go brush his hair."
I looked up at God and quipped, "I don't have a hairbrush. It's in my suitcase on the plane, how am I supposed to brush his hair without a hairbrush?"...
God was so insistent that I almost involuntarily began to walk toward him as these thoughts came to me from God's word: "I will thoroughly furnish you unto all good works." (2 Tim 3:17) I stumbled over to the wheelchair thinking I could use one myself. Even as I retell this story my pulse quickens and I feel those same butterflies.
I knelt down in front of the man, and asked as demurely as possible, "Sir, may I have the pleasure of brushing your hair?"
He looked back at me and said, "What did you say?"
"May I have the pleasure of brushing your hair?" To which he responded in volume ten, "Little lady, if you expect me to hear you, you're going to have to talk louder than that." At this point, I took a deep breath and blurted out, "SIR, MAY I HAVE THE PLEASURE OF BRUSHING YOUR HAIR?"
At which point every eye in the place darted right at me. I was the only thing in the room looking more peculiar than old Mr. Longlocks. Face crimson and forehead breaking out in a sweat, I watched him look up at me with absolute shock on his face, and say, "If you really want to."
Are you kidding? Of course I didn't want to. But God didn't seem interested in my personal preference right about then. He pressed on my heart until I could utter the words, "Yes, sir, I would be pleased. But I have one little problem. I don't have a hairbrush."
"I have one in my bag," he responded. I went around to the back of that wheelchair, and I got on my hands and knees and unzipped the stranger's old carry-on, hardly believing what I was doing. I stood up and started brushing the old man's hair.
It was perfectly clean, but it was tangled and matted. I don't do many things well, but I must admit I've had notable experience untangling knotted hair mothering two little girls.
Like I'd done with either Amanda or Melissa in such a condition, I began brushing at the very bottom of the strands, remembering to take my time not to pull. A miraculous thing happened to me as I started brushing that old man's hair. Everybody else in the room disappeared. There was no one alive for those moments except that old man and me. I brushed and I brushed and I brushed until every tangle was out of that hair.
I know this sounds so strange but I've never felt that kind of love for another soul in my entire life. I believe with all my heart, I - for that few minutes - felt a portion of the very love of God.
That He had overtaken my heart for a little while like someone renting a room and making Himself at home for a short while. The emotions were so strong and so pure that I knew they had to be God's.
His hair was finally as soft and smooth as an infant's. I slipped the brush back in the bag, went around the chair to face him. I got back down on my knees, put my hands on his knees, and said, "Sir, do you know my Jesus?"
He said, "Yes, I do." Well, that figures, I thought. He explained, "I've known Him since I married my bride."
"She wouldn't marry me until I got to know the Savior." He said, "You see, the problem is, I haven't seen my bride in months. I've had open-heart surgery, and she's been too ill to come see me. I was sitting here thinking to myself, 'What a mess I must be for my bride.'"
Only God knows how often He allows us to be part of a divine moment when we're completely unaware of the significance. This, on the other hand, was one of those rare encounters when I knew God had intervened in details only He could have known. It was a God moment, and I'll never forget it.
Our time came to board, and we were not on the same plane. I was deeply ashamed of how I'd acted earlier and would have been so proud to have accompanied him on that aircraft.
I still had a few minutes, and as I gathered my things to board, the airline hostess returned from the corridor, tears streaming down her cheeks. She said, "That old man's sitting on the plane, sobbing. Why did you do that? What made you do that?"
I said, "Do you know Jesus? He can be the bossiest thing!" And we got to share. I learned something about God that day. He knows if you're exhausted because you're hungry, you're serving in the wrong place or it is time to move on but you feel too responsible to budge. He knows if you're hurting or feeling rejected. He knows if you're sick or drowning under a wave of temptation. Or He knows if you just need your hair brushed. He sees you as an individual.
Tell Him your need!
I got on my own flight, sobs choking my throat, wondering how many opportunities just like that one had I missed along the way...all because I didn't want people to think I was strange. God didn't send me to that old man. He sent that old man to me.
John 1:14 "“And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth."
My good friend Melissa Pritchett sent this to me today, and I found it very moving and inspiring.
Beth Moore, the author, is a writer of Bible studies and a married mother of 2 daughters. She is a member of First Baptist Church in Houston.
Beth Moore April 20, 2005 Knoxville Airport - Waiting to board the plane: I had the Bible on my lap and was very intent upon what I was doing. I'd had a marvelous morning with the Lord.
I say that because I want to tell you it is a scary thing to have the Spirit of God really working in you.
You could end up doing some things you never would have done otherwise. Life in the Spirit can be dangerous for a thousand reasons not the least of which is your ego...
I tried to keep from staring but he was such a strange sight. Humped over in a wheelchair, he was skin and bones, dressed in clothes that obviously fit when he was at least twenty pounds heavier. His knees protruded from his trousers, and his shoulders looked like the coat hanger was still in his shirt. His hands looked like tangled masses of veins and bones. The strangest part of him was his hair and nails. Stringy gray air hung well over his shoulders and down part of his back. His fingernails were long. Clean, but strangely out of place on an old man.
I looked down at my Bible as fast as I could, discomfort burning my face. As I tried to imagine what his story might have been, I found myself wondering if I'd just had a Howard Hughes sighting.
Then, I remembered that he was dead. So this man in the airport... an impersonator maybe? Was a camera on us somewhere?....
There I sat trying to concentrate on the Word to keep from being concerned about a thin slice of humanity served on a wheelchair only a few seats from me. All the while my heart was growing more and more overwhelmed with a feeling for him. Let's admit it. Curiosity is a heap more comfortable than true concern, and suddenly I was awash with aching emotion for this bizarre-looking old man.
I had walked with God long enough to see the handwriting on the wall. I have learned that when I begin to feel what God feels, something so contrary to my natural feelings, something dramatic is bound to happen. And it may be embarrassing. I immediately began to resist because I could feel God working on my spirit and I started arguing with God in my mind.
"Oh no, God please no." I looked up at the ceiling as if I could stare straight through it into heaven and said, "Don't make me witness to this man. Not right here and now. Please. I'll do anything. Put me on the same plane, but don't make me get up here and witness to this man in front of this gawking audience."
"Please, Lord!"...
There I sat in the blue vinyl chair begging His Highness, "Please don't make me witness to this man. Not now. I'll do it on the plane."
Then I heard it..."I don't want you to witness to him. I want you to brush his hair."
The words were so clear, my heart leapt into my throat, and my thoughts spun like a top. Do I witness to the man or brush his hair?
No brainer. I looked straight back up at the ceiling and said, "God, as I live and breathe, I want you to know I am ready to witness to this man. I'm on this, Lord. I'm you're girl! You've never seen a woman witness to a man faster in your life. What difference does it make if his hair is a mess if he is not redeemed? I am on him. I am going to witness to this man."
Again as clearly as I've ever heard an audible word, God seemed to write this statement across the wall of my mind: "That is not what I said, Beth. I don't want you to witness to him. I want you to go brush his hair."
I looked up at God and quipped, "I don't have a hairbrush. It's in my suitcase on the plane, how am I supposed to brush his hair without a hairbrush?"...
God was so insistent that I almost involuntarily began to walk toward him as these thoughts came to me from God's word: "I will thoroughly furnish you unto all good works." (2 Tim 3:17) I stumbled over to the wheelchair thinking I could use one myself. Even as I retell this story my pulse quickens and I feel those same butterflies.
I knelt down in front of the man, and asked as demurely as possible, "Sir, may I have the pleasure of brushing your hair?"
He looked back at me and said, "What did you say?"
"May I have the pleasure of brushing your hair?" To which he responded in volume ten, "Little lady, if you expect me to hear you, you're going to have to talk louder than that." At this point, I took a deep breath and blurted out, "SIR, MAY I HAVE THE PLEASURE OF BRUSHING YOUR HAIR?"
At which point every eye in the place darted right at me. I was the only thing in the room looking more peculiar than old Mr. Longlocks. Face crimson and forehead breaking out in a sweat, I watched him look up at me with absolute shock on his face, and say, "If you really want to."
Are you kidding? Of course I didn't want to. But God didn't seem interested in my personal preference right about then. He pressed on my heart until I could utter the words, "Yes, sir, I would be pleased. But I have one little problem. I don't have a hairbrush."
"I have one in my bag," he responded. I went around to the back of that wheelchair, and I got on my hands and knees and unzipped the stranger's old carry-on, hardly believing what I was doing. I stood up and started brushing the old man's hair.
It was perfectly clean, but it was tangled and matted. I don't do many things well, but I must admit I've had notable experience untangling knotted hair mothering two little girls.
Like I'd done with either Amanda or Melissa in such a condition, I began brushing at the very bottom of the strands, remembering to take my time not to pull. A miraculous thing happened to me as I started brushing that old man's hair. Everybody else in the room disappeared. There was no one alive for those moments except that old man and me. I brushed and I brushed and I brushed until every tangle was out of that hair.
I know this sounds so strange but I've never felt that kind of love for another soul in my entire life. I believe with all my heart, I - for that few minutes - felt a portion of the very love of God.
That He had overtaken my heart for a little while like someone renting a room and making Himself at home for a short while. The emotions were so strong and so pure that I knew they had to be God's.
His hair was finally as soft and smooth as an infant's. I slipped the brush back in the bag, went around the chair to face him. I got back down on my knees, put my hands on his knees, and said, "Sir, do you know my Jesus?"
He said, "Yes, I do." Well, that figures, I thought. He explained, "I've known Him since I married my bride."
"She wouldn't marry me until I got to know the Savior." He said, "You see, the problem is, I haven't seen my bride in months. I've had open-heart surgery, and she's been too ill to come see me. I was sitting here thinking to myself, 'What a mess I must be for my bride.'"
Only God knows how often He allows us to be part of a divine moment when we're completely unaware of the significance. This, on the other hand, was one of those rare encounters when I knew God had intervened in details only He could have known. It was a God moment, and I'll never forget it.
Our time came to board, and we were not on the same plane. I was deeply ashamed of how I'd acted earlier and would have been so proud to have accompanied him on that aircraft.
I still had a few minutes, and as I gathered my things to board, the airline hostess returned from the corridor, tears streaming down her cheeks. She said, "That old man's sitting on the plane, sobbing. Why did you do that? What made you do that?"
I said, "Do you know Jesus? He can be the bossiest thing!" And we got to share. I learned something about God that day. He knows if you're exhausted because you're hungry, you're serving in the wrong place or it is time to move on but you feel too responsible to budge. He knows if you're hurting or feeling rejected. He knows if you're sick or drowning under a wave of temptation. Or He knows if you just need your hair brushed. He sees you as an individual.
Tell Him your need!
I got on my own flight, sobs choking my throat, wondering how many opportunities just like that one had I missed along the way...all because I didn't want people to think I was strange. God didn't send me to that old man. He sent that old man to me.
John 1:14 "“And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth."
There's a reason we call him "Great"
Queen Shenaynay
Great Scot left a lovely comment to my recent blog entry about the AO/CM Conference. He said:
I note with great pride that The Queen, as well as the other members of the Ambleside Online Advisory, do what they do, and spend the enormous amount of time that AO requires of them, with no intent to receive monetary gain, but to instead try and help in their own way the education and enlightenment of an upcoming generation. The self sacrifice that each of these ladies display is truly inspiring.
I started to just reply with another comment, but I've decided to go one better and do it this way, up on the front page.
I want to say back to Great Scot what a magnanimous gentleman he is for being willing to share his wife's time and energy for the sake of the Ambleside Online project, in spite of the fact that it adds not one dime to our household income. He has remained supportive and encouraging even as the project has evolved into a massive undertaking, far bigger and more time-consuming -- and perpetual -- than any of us on the Advisory could remotely imagine back when we first began working on it.
It's the rare man who can bring himself to be so generous and benevolent, so humble, so willing to see something as demanding as AO as a calling in his wife's life. That's also the sign of a true servant, Great Scot.
Over the years, he's arranged many dinners so I could help with the work of developing the AO curriculum. He's taken the kids on outings so I could concentrate on things like book selections, composer and art studies and so many other things. He has talked to the top of my distracted head as I typed furiously and mumbled things like "uh huh, yeah, whatever is fine, honey."
And he has been happy to do it because he truly gets the whole vision, and -- mostly --because he sees that the Lord is in this whirlwind.
You're a great man, Great Scot. And you're my hero.
Great Scot left a lovely comment to my recent blog entry about the AO/CM Conference. He said:
I note with great pride that The Queen, as well as the other members of the Ambleside Online Advisory, do what they do, and spend the enormous amount of time that AO requires of them, with no intent to receive monetary gain, but to instead try and help in their own way the education and enlightenment of an upcoming generation. The self sacrifice that each of these ladies display is truly inspiring.
I started to just reply with another comment, but I've decided to go one better and do it this way, up on the front page.
I want to say back to Great Scot what a magnanimous gentleman he is for being willing to share his wife's time and energy for the sake of the Ambleside Online project, in spite of the fact that it adds not one dime to our household income. He has remained supportive and encouraging even as the project has evolved into a massive undertaking, far bigger and more time-consuming -- and perpetual -- than any of us on the Advisory could remotely imagine back when we first began working on it.
It's the rare man who can bring himself to be so generous and benevolent, so humble, so willing to see something as demanding as AO as a calling in his wife's life. That's also the sign of a true servant, Great Scot.
Over the years, he's arranged many dinners so I could help with the work of developing the AO curriculum. He's taken the kids on outings so I could concentrate on things like book selections, composer and art studies and so many other things. He has talked to the top of my distracted head as I typed furiously and mumbled things like "uh huh, yeah, whatever is fine, honey."
And he has been happy to do it because he truly gets the whole vision, and -- mostly --because he sees that the Lord is in this whirlwind.
You're a great man, Great Scot. And you're my hero.
August 8, 2005
Pasta Jollies
Queen Shenaynay
Happiness reigns in the Beehive tonight.
After a couple of weeks of not really cooking much because of the conference, I got in a great big culinary mood this afternoon. Made a huge pan of killer lasagna -- 15 beautiful, bubbly layers of earthly bliss. I love making lasagna -- it's such a lovely bit of earth mama ritual -- but for whatever reason, I haven't done so in several years. Smelling that luscious aroma wafting out of the oven, I can't imagine why.
Vivaldi's Concerti for 2 Mandolins is on the stereo, our tummies are full, and we're in nirvana around here.
The Beehive denizens are all off in cozy corners, purring and happy, curled up with books.
Pasta may well be the key to happiness. I need to remember that. And jog more.
Happiness reigns in the Beehive tonight.
After a couple of weeks of not really cooking much because of the conference, I got in a great big culinary mood this afternoon. Made a huge pan of killer lasagna -- 15 beautiful, bubbly layers of earthly bliss. I love making lasagna -- it's such a lovely bit of earth mama ritual -- but for whatever reason, I haven't done so in several years. Smelling that luscious aroma wafting out of the oven, I can't imagine why.
Vivaldi's Concerti for 2 Mandolins is on the stereo, our tummies are full, and we're in nirvana around here.The Beehive denizens are all off in cozy corners, purring and happy, curled up with books.
Pasta may well be the key to happiness. I need to remember that. And jog more.
I return to Deep Valley
Fa-So-La-La
I have done something in the last two days that I had not done in a long, long time-- I have gone back to Deep Valley to pay a visit to Betsy, Tacey, and Tib.
You see, I was recently talking to my dear friend known to the Beehive faithful as 'multifarious me.' We were reminiscing about the many happy hours we spent in Deep Valley as children-- how together with our dear friends Betsy, Tacey and Tib, we picnicked on the Big Hill, learned to fly from the chestnut tree in Betsy's front yard, built log cabins in Tib's cellar, payed calls to Tib's Aunt Dorothy. When we were a little older, we walked all the way to the other side of the Big Hill, and frightened some Syrian immigrants very badly. When we were older still, we went downtown all by ourselves and bought Christmas presents. We felt dramatic the night that Betsy sprained her ankle bobsledding. We felt grown-up the night we went to see The Pied Piper of Hamlin at the theater.
I have done something in the last two days that I had not done in a long, long time-- I have gone back to Deep Valley to pay a visit to Betsy, Tacey, and Tib.
You see, I was recently talking to my dear friend known to the Beehive faithful as 'multifarious me.' We were reminiscing about the many happy hours we spent in Deep Valley as children-- how together with our dear friends Betsy, Tacey and Tib, we picnicked on the Big Hill, learned to fly from the chestnut tree in Betsy's front yard, built log cabins in Tib's cellar, payed calls to Tib's Aunt Dorothy. When we were a little older, we walked all the way to the other side of the Big Hill, and frightened some Syrian immigrants very badly. When we were older still, we went downtown all by ourselves and bought Christmas presents. We felt dramatic the night that Betsy sprained her ankle bobsledding. We felt grown-up the night we went to see The Pied Piper of Hamlin at the theater.
I lamented to The Multifarious One that I had not been back to Deep Valley in a long time, too long. And then she told me that I could go back again, and see how Betsy and company were doing in High School.
The glorious news was true. I went to the library and there they were-- six more volumes of Betsy, Tacey, and Tib, somehow overlooked for years. They were shiny in their plastic library covers and smelling just like a Betsy-Tacey-Tib book ought to smell, of library mold and dust and old paper and glue and the hands of countless other pilgrims to Deep Valley. I took four of them home, and fortified with tea and cookies, chips and salsa and a very ripe peach, I opened the notched, ivory pages of Heaven to Betsy and returned at long last to Deep Valley.
It was just as my friend had said-- Betsy, Tacey and Tib were no longer little girls. They were freshies at Deep Valley High, with long skirts and pompadors and beaus. But they remembered me-- underneath the towering puffed hair they were the same as they ever were. I spent four years in Deep Valley, laughing and playing, mourning and repenting, picnicking and singing at the Ray's house-- I was excited with Betsy when the Tall Dark Stranger came to Deep Valley. I sat in Julia's room with Betsy and talked after parties. I made fudge and sang with the Crowd, and Betsy and I plotted how to make ourselves Elegant and Mysterious. I cried with Betsy when she lost the Essay contest. Tib and Tacey and I rejoiced with Betsy when Joe started going with her and we mourned when they quarrelled and Joe went to the dance with Irma. And we danced for joy with Betsy when Joe came back. We graduated together just half an hour ago, and then as the plastic-covered back cover of Betsy and Joe thudded shut on the thick pages I had to leave Deep Valley at long last. I had read all four books in under 36 hours.
It was a perfect time, a euphoric blend of the old and the new, the past and the present, the familiar and the unexplored. I would be heartbroken to once more have to leave, except that I know that sitting on a shelf in the library are two more Betsy-Tacey-Tib books, with shiny plastic covers and the smell of library mold and old paper. I shall return to Deep Valley again soon.
August 7, 2005
What I Did on My Summer Vacation:
I Threw A Conference
Queen Shenaynay
Many Beehive faithful are aware that I am one of the seven Advisory members who have developed the Ambleside Online curriculum. Last weekend, we had a conference here in the Dallas area, which turned out better -- and bigger -- than our wildest dreams. The Lord truly blessed the day, from start to finish.
The other Advisory ladies have had a good time teasing me about my "throwing" this conference. Since I live in the area where the conference was to be held, I wound up doing most of the planning and organizing (a task that kept multiplying as the numbers of pre-registrations doubled, then tripled, beyond our expectations).
Well... so a week before the big day, I was visiting with a couple of friends, one of whom casually asked me what I was doing the next weekend. Before I thought how it would sound, I heard myself saying, "Well, I'm throwing a conference." The lady paused, then turned to her friend and smirked with great comic effect, "Oh, FINE. I throw little tea parties now and then, and you throw a pretty good toddler birthday party... but not Lynn. Oh, noooo. SHE throws a conference."
I really didn't mean it to come out that way, but in retrospect I have to admit it was pretty funny.
The curious can read more about the AO/CM Conference HERE and HERE at Donna-Jean's blog, and see some nifty pics HERE at Leslie Noelani's site. I hope to post some more pictures here shortly.
A big thank you too all who came, and all who have given us such incredible, uplifting and encouraging feedback. We're just glad that you all were at least as blessed by the day as we were.
Queen Shenaynay
Many Beehive faithful are aware that I am one of the seven Advisory members who have developed the Ambleside Online curriculum. Last weekend, we had a conference here in the Dallas area, which turned out better -- and bigger -- than our wildest dreams. The Lord truly blessed the day, from start to finish.
The other Advisory ladies have had a good time teasing me about my "throwing" this conference. Since I live in the area where the conference was to be held, I wound up doing most of the planning and organizing (a task that kept multiplying as the numbers of pre-registrations doubled, then tripled, beyond our expectations).
Well... so a week before the big day, I was visiting with a couple of friends, one of whom casually asked me what I was doing the next weekend. Before I thought how it would sound, I heard myself saying, "Well, I'm throwing a conference." The lady paused, then turned to her friend and smirked with great comic effect, "Oh, FINE. I throw little tea parties now and then, and you throw a pretty good toddler birthday party... but not Lynn. Oh, noooo. SHE throws a conference."
I really didn't mean it to come out that way, but in retrospect I have to admit it was pretty funny.
The curious can read more about the AO/CM Conference HERE and HERE at Donna-Jean's blog, and see some nifty pics HERE at Leslie Noelani's site. I hope to post some more pictures here shortly.
A big thank you too all who came, and all who have given us such incredible, uplifting and encouraging feedback. We're just glad that you all were at least as blessed by the day as we were.
A Gift
Queen Shenaynay
Lisa E, a lovely Ambleside Online mom, brought to the AO/CM Conference a set of clay figures for each of the Advisory members, made by her very talented daughter. Each of us received a representation of our own family -- I don't know how Lisa figured out what we all looked like before she even met us, but she did a wonderful job of putting clues together!
Lisa took the inspiration for the figures for my family from a blog entry here at the Beehive: my poem Braided.
You can see Wendi's gift here, Donna-Jean's here, and Leslie Noelani's here.
Thank you, Lisa! And please pass along a big thank you hug to the very sweet and gifted Miss Ector!
Lisa E, a lovely Ambleside Online mom, brought to the AO/CM Conference a set of clay figures for each of the Advisory members, made by her very talented daughter. Each of us received a representation of our own family -- I don't know how Lisa figured out what we all looked like before she even met us, but she did a wonderful job of putting clues together!
Lisa took the inspiration for the figures for my family from a blog entry here at the Beehive: my poem Braided.
You can see Wendi's gift here, Donna-Jean's here, and Leslie Noelani's here.
Thank you, Lisa! And please pass along a big thank you hug to the very sweet and gifted Miss Ector!
August 5, 2005
With the Spirit, and with the understanding also...
Fa-So-La-La
This may sound like a large leap of thought, but it is something I have pondered before-- did God perhaps command singing in the worship service not only to prepare our hearts for worship, but also to provide us the experience of praising Him with greater skill and beauty? My prayers are so halting, so rambley, so ill-concieved, that it is rest to my spirit to be able to cry out to God and worship Him in poetic words and breathtaking harmony. The marriage of music and lyrics creates a marriage of emotion and reason in my soul, allowing me to worship with beauty as a complete person. Praise the Lord that He provides us with this way of drawing near Him.
This may sound like a large leap of thought, but it is something I have pondered before-- did God perhaps command singing in the worship service not only to prepare our hearts for worship, but also to provide us the experience of praising Him with greater skill and beauty? My prayers are so halting, so rambley, so ill-concieved, that it is rest to my spirit to be able to cry out to God and worship Him in poetic words and breathtaking harmony. The marriage of music and lyrics creates a marriage of emotion and reason in my soul, allowing me to worship with beauty as a complete person. Praise the Lord that He provides us with this way of drawing near Him.
The Definition of a Ha-ha
Fa-So-La-La
And what, you may be wondering, is a ha-ha? If you recall, in Mansfield Park by Jane Austen, Edmund and Mary go off to explore the woods at Sotherton, leaving poor tired Fanny on a bench overlooking this mysterious creature, the ha-ha. So what is it?
I stayed up last night later than I will admit to reading a book about Jane Austen's works, entitled Miniatures and Morals by Peter J. Leithart, and in the section on Mansfield Park, I found no less than a full description of a ha-ha. As you can imagine, I was overjoyed, and resolved to share this new-found knowledge with the world. So here it is, the definition of a ha-ha--
"The idea of a ha-ha was to keep cattle/deer/people out of an area without ugly fences breaking up the vista. A ditch was dug and a fence of some sort placed at the bottom. The way across was by an unditched area closed off by a wrought iron gate. These gates usually had further barriers stretching from the gatepost to the edge of the ditch shaped rather like a quarter of a bicycle wheel with the spokes and with spikes protruding beyond each spoke. This is the barrier that Henry Crawford and Maria climbed around in Mansfield Park while poor Mr. Rushworth has hurried off to get the key to the gate that will let them into the park."
So there you have it! You now know what a ha-ha is.
Ah, Mansfield Park. Such a book. The high point of English literature. I think I shall read it again.........
And what, you may be wondering, is a ha-ha? If you recall, in Mansfield Park by Jane Austen, Edmund and Mary go off to explore the woods at Sotherton, leaving poor tired Fanny on a bench overlooking this mysterious creature, the ha-ha. So what is it?
I stayed up last night later than I will admit to reading a book about Jane Austen's works, entitled Miniatures and Morals by Peter J. Leithart, and in the section on Mansfield Park, I found no less than a full description of a ha-ha. As you can imagine, I was overjoyed, and resolved to share this new-found knowledge with the world. So here it is, the definition of a ha-ha--
"The idea of a ha-ha was to keep cattle/deer/people out of an area without ugly fences breaking up the vista. A ditch was dug and a fence of some sort placed at the bottom. The way across was by an unditched area closed off by a wrought iron gate. These gates usually had further barriers stretching from the gatepost to the edge of the ditch shaped rather like a quarter of a bicycle wheel with the spokes and with spikes protruding beyond each spoke. This is the barrier that Henry Crawford and Maria climbed around in Mansfield Park while poor Mr. Rushworth has hurried off to get the key to the gate that will let them into the park."
So there you have it! You now know what a ha-ha is.
Ah, Mansfield Park. Such a book. The high point of English literature. I think I shall read it again.........
August 2, 2005
Lesson Learned
Great Scot
This was sent to me today by a friend and I thought it made a good point:
At an airport one night,
with several long hours before her flight,
she hunted for a book in an airport shop,
bought a bag cookies and found a place to drop.
She was engrossed in her book but happened to see
that the man sitting beside her, as bold as could be,
grabbed a cookie or two from the bag in between,
which she tried to ignore to avoid a scene.
So she munched the cookies and watched the clock,
as the gutsy cookie thief diminished her stock.
She was getting more irritated as the minutes ticked by,
thinking, "If I wasn't so nice, I would blacken his eye."
With each cookie she took, he took one too,
when only one was left, she wondered what he would do.
With a smile on his face, and a nervous laugh,
he took the last cookie and broke it in half.
He offered her half, as he ate the other,
she snatched it from him and thought... ooh, brother!
This guy has some nerve and he's also rude,
why, he didn't even show any gratitude!
She had never known when she'd been so galled,
and sighed with relief when her flight was called.
She gathered her belongings and headed to the gate,
refusing to look back at the thieving ingrate.
She boarded the plane, and sank in her seat,
then she sought her book, which was almost complete.
As she reached in her baggage, she gasped with surprise,
there was her bag of cookies, in front of her eyes.
If mine are here, she moaned in despair,
the others were his, and he tried to share.
Too late to apologize, she realized with grief,
that she was the rude one, the ingrate, the thief!
How many times have we absolutely known that something was a certain way, only to discover later that what we believed to be true... was not?
Always keep an open mind and an open heart, because... you just never know...
"You might be eating someone else's cookies."
Author Unknown to me.
This was sent to me today by a friend and I thought it made a good point:
At an airport one night,
with several long hours before her flight,
she hunted for a book in an airport shop,
bought a bag cookies and found a place to drop.
She was engrossed in her book but happened to see
that the man sitting beside her, as bold as could be,
grabbed a cookie or two from the bag in between,
which she tried to ignore to avoid a scene.
So she munched the cookies and watched the clock,
as the gutsy cookie thief diminished her stock.
She was getting more irritated as the minutes ticked by,
thinking, "If I wasn't so nice, I would blacken his eye."
With each cookie she took, he took one too,
when only one was left, she wondered what he would do.
With a smile on his face, and a nervous laugh,
he took the last cookie and broke it in half.
He offered her half, as he ate the other,
she snatched it from him and thought... ooh, brother!
This guy has some nerve and he's also rude,
why, he didn't even show any gratitude!
She had never known when she'd been so galled,
and sighed with relief when her flight was called.
She gathered her belongings and headed to the gate,
refusing to look back at the thieving ingrate.
She boarded the plane, and sank in her seat,
then she sought her book, which was almost complete.
As she reached in her baggage, she gasped with surprise,
there was her bag of cookies, in front of her eyes.
If mine are here, she moaned in despair,
the others were his, and he tried to share.
Too late to apologize, she realized with grief,
that she was the rude one, the ingrate, the thief!
How many times have we absolutely known that something was a certain way, only to discover later that what we believed to be true... was not?
Always keep an open mind and an open heart, because... you just never know...
"You might be eating someone else's cookies."
Author Unknown to me.
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