You Rock!

Today our geology chapter in science came to a close with a resounding crescendo! It was rock collection day in the fourth grade, and fun was had by all who participated.

Each student brought in their own collection of rocks, labelled, and displayed in some fashion. For most, their method of choice was an egg carton.

The students spent some time admiring each other's collections while I went to each desk, asking pertinent questions, and grading each one. All of my students got an "E" for Excellent!



After lunch, we invited each of the other elementary grades to come in one by one and view the collections. My fourth graders were awesome as they answered questions, sharing their knowledge and enthusiasm with the rest of the school.

What is this one called?

Kindergarten Comes to See

"EEW...petrified dino poop!"

Explaining a Rock

As each class lined up to leave to make room for the next class to come in, I handed each student a rock of their own. Then I watched their gratitude turn to surprise when I told them that they could go ahead and EAT their rock. They were chocolate rocks!

First Grade

Chocolate Rocks!

I think the second graders responded the best when they all shouted together, "Mrs. Hatfield, YOU ROCK!"

Right back at you, students of Alleluia Community School.  "YOU ROCK!"

Scranimals

This is a fun art project for kids that will get their imaginations running in high gear. It is also a great bulletin board display for those in between holiday times.

Scranimals is the art of combining two animals, or an animal and a vegetable, into one new species. The only rule is that you keep the exact spelling of each animal in tact when you combine them. However, you drop off the overlapping letters.  For example:

Spinach + chicken = spinachicken, not spinachchicken.

Squirrel + elephant = squirrelephant

One of my favorites:  Banana + anaconda = bananaconda

But, as you will see, even these rules can be altered a little...check out these close-up shots of the scranimals my class did last week:



Shoveleopard

Flamingolive








Radiationarwhalionfish

Monkeylime



Dragon Flyon

Mangorangutan






Lionion



Sharkiwi

Firelephant



Albatrosskunk

Amor Conquista Todo

Have you ever had one of those days when everything you do seems meaningless? When everything you touch seems to generate a negative feeling? A day when King Midas would have sat down and cried?

Yesterday was like that for me. Nothing I touched turned to gold. I had lovely plans to get out and weed the flower beds while enjoying a beautiful sunny day. Instead, I spent my whole morning and early afternoon at various "thrift" venues looking for some great deals on frivolous things, such as Lucia's costume for "Twelfth Night" or wholesome, Christian values books for my children's never ending desire to read, or that one thing that I didn't know I needed until I saw it.

Don't get me wrong, I love frequenting thrift shops. But yesterday was gorgeous outside, and I needed to get out and weed. I just meant to spend a few minutes there, but one thing led to another...

Start time: 9:00 a.m
.
The venues ranged from our senior class' fund-raising yard sale, to our clothing closet, to a friend dropping off two boxes of clothes, to Goodwill. Now granted, Goodwill was a time killer while I was waiting for my boys to finish up their merit badge school on the other side of town. Kevin texted me when I was almost there, saying that lunch hadn't arrived yet. So I stopped at Goodwill, killed about an hour, found nothing to purchase, then continued on to pick up my boys, to find them STILL waiting for lunch.

I looked at my watch: 1:03 p.m.

Since they had completed their classes, we opted not to wait, and bought some Chick-fil-A on the way home.

Time is now: 2:00 p.m.

After arriving home I had just enough time to get the turkey in the oven, then Ania helped me with the rest of the meal.

Time is now 3:30, too late to begin any type of yard work, so I taught Ania how to play Mille Bornes, one of the treasures I found at the yard sale earlier today.

Meanwhile, Andy is having his own problems with the phone line and the shower doors. Whatever he was attempting to do with the phone didn't work, so he rewired it all back the way it was. The shower doors, however, continued to refuse to be put back the way they were before he took them down to recaulk them.

When the turkey was done we all gathered around the table; our family and the family of my friend who dropped off the boxes of clothes.

Then it was back to the puzzle of the shower doors. Andy and I spent over an hour trying everything we could think of, but nothing could coax those doors back together. We finally waved the white flag of surrender and went to bed.

As I laid there in the darkness and recollected my day, I realized that I had accomplished nothing. Nothing I put my hand to amounted to anything. Nothing except.....

~ I was able to love our seniors and support their fundraiser.
~ I was able to give my friend's child a ride home from the yard sale to save her a trip.
~ I was able to treat my two sons to lunch because their lunch never showed up at scouts.
~ I was able to share a new card game with Ania and enjoy her company.
~ I was able to extend a dinner invitation to some friends that we haven't had over in a long time.
~ I was able to spend some shoulder-to-shoulder time with Andy, working together to solve an unsolvable puzzle. The key word there is "together."

It seems to me that yesterday wasn't such a waste after all. God knew what He wanted me to accomplish, and it didn't have anything to do with problems and solutions. Rather it had everything to do with finding opportunities to love my neighbor and then doing it.

 In that light, yesterday was a victorious day, conquered by love!

  

Seven Quick Takes (Vol. 1)

1.My baby, Lucia, played in her first ever organized basketball game on Friday. The Alleluia Basketball Development League, (ABDL) second through fifth grade girls showed their stuff, which was about the cutest thing I ever saw in organized sports. Lucia also got her first ever "official" sports injury; a jammed finger. Wear it proudly, girl!

Cute, Johanna!

2.  My husband's baby sister, Johanna, had her first ever bridal shower on Sunday. This is it....the beginning of the end of her single days.

3.  My husband's grandma, the last of the great grandparents, had a major heart attack on Wednesday morning. No one realized what it was, and Grandma said that she "just didn't feel right" at 3:30 in the morning. Andy's parents took her to the hospital where she underwent surgery, and is now sitting up in bed, receiving visitors. Thank you, Jesus, for your continued hand on Grandma. She will be 90 next month.

4.  "Mrs. Hatfield, what does sympathy mean?" several voices chimed during vocabulary class. I couldn't believe they had never heard that word before, so I challenged them to think about it. No one knew. Finally one student called out, "I know, it's when you go and listen to a bunch of instruments performing music."

5. My dear friend was taken to the hospital for a reaction to one of her drugs after chemotherapy. My husband and I went to see her last night, as well as his grandmother (see #3). What I expected was to find her in need of encouragement, based on my struggles with my first round of chemo. What I found when I walked into her room was a beautiful smile, a welcoming hug, and a woman of strength, of honor, and of beauty! Thank you, Karen.

House Guest

6.  My husband found a visitor in our house yesterday, seated on my hibiscus plant. Good eyes, Andy!

7.  Halfway through a conversation with Philip I realized I was looking eye-to-eye with him. When did that happen? I am as tall as a 12 year old. Congratulations, Philip, you are about to join the ranks of Ania and Kevin, who passed me up several inches ago.


Now head on over to Jen's to add you seven quick takes.

Love's Kaleidoscope

Have you ever wondered how a kaleidoscope works? Sure, you look into the eyepiece, aim the contraption toward a light source, and spin it slowly. The beautiful designs that it creates is amazing, ever changing, ever beautiful.

St. Therese of Lisieux once marveled at a kaleidoscope, and took the time to figure out its secret. She writes about it here:

"This toy...intrigued me, and for a long time I kept wondering just what could produce so delightful a phenomenon. One day a careful examination revealed that the unusual effect was merely the combination of tiny scraps of paper and wool scattered about inside. When on further scrutiny I discovered three looking-glasses inside the tube, the puzzle was solved. And this simple toy became for me the image of a great mystery...So long as our actions, even the most trivial, remain within love's kaleidoscope, the Blessed Trinity (which the three converging glasses represent) imparts to them a marvelous brightness and beauty... The eye-piece of the spy-glass symbolizes the good God, who looking from the outside (but through Himself, as it were) into the kaleidoscope finds everything quite beautiful, even our miserable straws of effort, and our most insignificant actions." (taken from The Love That Keeps Us Sane, living the little way of St. Therese of Lisieux, by Marc Foley, O.C.D.)

I love this analogy! Sometimes all I am able to put into love's kaleidoscope are the tiniest shards of glass. A smile when I don't feel like it. Biting my tongue when I feel like complaining. Going the extra yard when all I've been asked for is a mile. Choosing not to judge another's motives. All these things done in love are priceless to God.

Great big things done without love are just a "clanging gong, a clashing cymbal." (1Corinthians 13). But the smallest, insignificant acts, done in love, move mountains, change the hardest hearts, and will be rewarded by God.

So throw your shards into love's kaleidoscope, and let God multiply your efforts into something big and beautiful for Him.

Happy Birthday, Dad

I would like to take a moment to honor my dad, who is celebrating his birthday today.

I was raised as the only girl right in the middle of two older and two younger brothers. I never felt singled out by my parents. In fact, to my dad, I was just one of the guys, or at least I was made to feel that way.

This may seem a strange thing for a daughter to honor her dad for, since most girls want to be their father's little princess. But I was his princess in a different sort of way. I was his Indian princess and his warrior princess. However, I drew the line at dairy princess (an actual position held by teenage girls in the world of dairy farming).

So, Dad, I honor you for the priceless things you taught me that I have tried to pass on to my own children. I will attmept to list a few of them here.

You instilled in me a love for country living and for Native American history.

You took the time to share with me the serenity of a forest, the thrill of a waterfall, the beauty of wildlife all around me.

You taught me how to ride horses and love these beautiful animals.

You taught me how to walk through the woods without making noise, or to paddle a canoe without making splashes so I could catch glimpses of wildlife without startling them.

You taught me how to pick up a crayfish so I wouldn't get pinched, or a snake so it couldn't bite me so I wouldn't be afraid of them.

You taught me how to go out at night with my lantern to pick up night crawlers, bait my own hook, and sit for long periods of time on the bank of a creek, waiting to feel the nibble at the end of my line. Then how to patiently wait until the nibble turned to a tug before hooking the fish.

You taught me how to shoot a bow and arrow, how to plant a garden,  how to milk a cow, and how to drive a tractor, snowmobile and car.

And you taught me that it was important to allow a young man to come to the door when taking me out on a date...something that I balked at since I was used to being such a tomboy.

I guess in your eyes, I was always your princess, even when I was overflowing the bathtub, writing with wax markers on the barn walls, or grinding the gears on the Ford 5000.

You have been a race car driver, a tractor trailer driver, a dairy farmer, a horse farmer, a banjo player, a classic car collector, a firewood businessman, a devoted husband, a wonderful grandpa, and my favorite.......THE BEST DAD IN THE WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD!!!!!

Thank you, Dad, for teaching me all these things, and so much more! I love you!

Happy Birthday!

What Color is Monday?

When I was about eight years old, I remember my older brother had a golden palomino horse named Sunday. One day he asked me, "What color is Sunday?" I gave him the obvious answer, "Yellow."

He agreed with me and went on.  "What color is Monday?"

It became clear to me at that point that he was not talking about his horse.

"Monday is red," I answered.

"No, Monday is blue," he responded.

Blue? How could anyone think that Monday is blue?

And Tuesday is orangish-yellow, Wednesday is green, Thursday is brown, Friday is black, and Saturday is colorless. Poor Saturday, I always thought. Why doesn't Saturday have a color?

I recently found out that there is a name for this phenomenon. It is listed as a "condition" in abnormal psychology textbooks called synesthesia, although it is not listed in the DSM IV manual because those who have synesthesia are not handicapped or disabled in any way. In fact, those who experience this "condition" find it enjoyable.

This is very fascinating to me. My husband thinks I am bonkers. He sees everything like I see Saturday, colorless. I can't even imagine a colorless world.

So, I asked the question at the dinner table last night. "Okay kids, what color is Monday?"

Kevin immediately said, "Yellow."

Ania objected, "No, it's orange."

Philip started laughing, and Lucia didn't say a word.

"Orange? Yellow?" I cried, "No, it's red!"

Kevin and Ania see in color. Philip and Lucia do not.

Upon further investigation, Ania was quick to agree with me that Saturday is colorless. She described it as "clear."

We then began to compare months, letters, the fifty states, and countries. Kevin is a musician and he sees chords and whole songs in color. Ania is an artist and she and her artsy friend have whole conversations about what color things are. I tend to see letters in color, and then whatever letter the word starts with, that is the color of that word. There are some exceptions to this. Some letters are colorless, like poor Saturday, so then the combination of letters determine the color of the word.

One very neat correlation I just became cognisant of is that of our school to God. Jesus is red, and Christ is a golden yellow. The Holy Spirit is white and gold. Red, white, and gold happen to be the colors of our school. And for the Alleluia Community School, Jesus reigns supreme! Thank you, Lord, for constantly revealing your hand in my life in the most fascinating ways!

So, if anyone comes up to you and asks, "What color is Monday?" they really are not asking a stupid question. They really may want to know.