Such a magical age
Embracing every new wonder
Valuing every moment
Every day a rich concoction of love
Now and every tomorrow, a gift

Such a magical age
Embracing every new wonder
Valuing every moment
Every day a rich concoction of love
Now and every tomorrow, a gift
My Dear Firstborn,
You were always the Lord’s.
I rejoice
that His divine purposes
cannot be thwarted
that your preacher-father
lived to see this day
that your first daughter
sitting beside me
as you receive your
Master of Divinity
is the same age you were
sitting beside me
when your father
received his
seven,
representing
fullness
and completion
in an endless
spiral of blessing
that flows on
and on
and on.
You have always
been my joy,
baby boy.
With love
and gratitude
and awe
at the divine work
of the Master
always,
Mom
Grandparenting joy:
imparting extra wonder
for the little ones
for when they grow up
they still need the fantastic
magic of childhood
For taking our granddaughter to a Polar Express Move Party,
even Grampa has agreed to wearing matching family shirts
This day, every day
Holy in its own way
Abundance immeasurable
New mercies pleasurable
Keeping mindful of blessings
For living, for giving
Until the final ingathering
Let me not cease to give thanks
Drawing by Scout, age 6
Thanksgiving blessings to all
That dreamcatcher
Grampa gave me
works a little too well
says our almost
seven-year-old
grandgirl
I’m not having bad dreams
anymore
I’m not having
any dreams at all
I wonder
which of these
is most powerful
a child’s faith
a grandfather’s love
the catcher
or dreams
undreamed
Beautiful Micah-girl:
Your big sister has decided
that the leggings
of the fall outfit
I got for your birthday
are “bonfire red”…
that is now
officially
my favorite color.
Faith of a child
pure and bright
trusting the shepherd
for guiding light
*******
in celebration of my granddaughter’s baptism
by my pastor-son
“Behold our God shall live with us, And be our steadfast Light,
And we shall e’er his people be, All glory be to Christ.”
—Dustin Kensrue
Even if
the magic
never comes
I still have
the infinite wonder
of your hand
on mine
My granddaughter and I, experimenting with hummingbird feeder rings
As a literacy coach and intervention team facilitator, I am tasked with communicating expectations of my administration and the district to my colleagues. It’s a tricky position (correction: these are tricky positions. Plural. Sometimes I feel like Bartholomew Cubbins, wearing 500 hats). At present, my fellow educators are, in the wake of COVID, undergoing state-mandated Science of Reading training while adjusting to new curriculum and new leadership. It all comes with new expectations.
Truth be told, however, many of these expectations aren’t new: Problem-solving as a professional community, finding what we need as educators to give the students what they need. Bridging gaps. Collaborative planning. Collective responsibility. None of these are new; they just feel new if they’ve not been done effectively before…the bottom line being the determination of this is what the kids really need; how do we make it happen?
It’s formidable challenge, in a time where there are many needs, and when educational philosophies, beliefs, and mindsets clash. I recently wrote about endurance (from a spiritual point of view). This new school year follows one of extreme exhaustion. We will not endure without leaning on one another. We will not build our strength in isolation. We will not succeed without stamina. Or vision. Where there is no vision, the people perish (Proverbs 29:18). Grappling with expectations is, well, expected. Everything, everything, everything rests on one of two beliefs: it can be done or it can’t.
I believe it can.
Yesterday my granddaughter visited. The hummingbird feeder rings I ordered for us had just arrived. Perfect timing. We took them out of the package, washed them, made a tiny batch of sugar water, and filled them. Off to the yard we trotted to stand with our arms resting on the fence near one of my two feeders where a handful of hummingbirds compete for their nectar throughout the day.
You can see for yourself, in the photo, my granddaughter thinking I don’t know about this…yet there’s a layer of hope and fear in her expression: Will the hummingbirds actually come drink from my ring? Will I be scared?
After a while: How long is this going to take?
The secret, my love, is patience and persistence. If it doesn’t work the first time, we will try again, and again. Hummingbirds have come to drink from the rings of other people in other places; they will eventually do so with us. Keep trying. Believe. I will stand with you until it does.
Oh, right.
I started off talking about teaching, didn’t I.
Expression of uncertain expectation. After she left, I went out again when the hummers were more active. A couple of them hovered nearby, considering me and my outstretched, ringed hand (hummingbirds are highly intelligent and curious). If they come to me…they will come to my granddaughter. I will see if can make it happen for her.
*******
with thanks to Two Writing Teachers for the weekly Slice of Life Story Challenge
I waited for you
a long, long time, little girls
my life’s great reward
❤
How I spent my summer vacation:
Joy is too small a word.