Seeing is Believing

I live in a suburban neighborhood which has wildlife becoming increasingly abundant.  Deer, turkey, even coyote and bears.  It's a beautiful thing to me, but I fear for these gorgeous creatures because of their need for food and safety.  Roads and deer somehow do not mix.  It is sad to me and find myself praying when I see one of God's creatures in a place where safety is not a guarantee.

My sister lives on the top of a mountain in Connecticut.  She owns more acreage than I and wildlife is a part of her family's experience at home, as well.  They invite the critters by putting leftover food out when they can.  The sun goes down and it's only a matter of time that something will show up to partake - an opossum, or raccoon, or skunk...  Thanksgiving night we hit the jackpot upon seeing two of the most beautiful gray fox having followed their noses to Bonnie's backyard.

It was interesting, though, because the foxes did not immediately dig in.  They circled and scattered and closed in repeatedly.  "Who cooked this turkey?" was more than likely something their instinct was wondering.  I grew weary watching even these magnificently handsome animals, and left the sliding glass doors to find a comfy place by the fire.

Next morning, not even one wishbone remained in that yard.  Who had taken it?  Did the foxes finally reconcile the fact that this meat, which they did not have to hunt and kill, was still edible?  Did it become their sustenance for the next 24 hours?

I love that God feeds his creation, and I don't have to see it to believe it.

Crayon Presentation

Coming off of Thanksgiving meal 2012, I feel my waistband a bit more as I am situated on my little kitchen chair in my blue jeans.  I'm told that even the most modest plate with turkey and all of the trimmings completely blows all weight watcher points for the year.  Maybe I didn't get that quite accurately, but you get the idea.  Not that I'm on weight watchers currently.  My diet begins tomorrow, but it's a customized version for my busy life style.  I'm counting on complete success.

Bidding a temporary farewell to the first grade students on Wednesday seems like a long time ago.  The day was a day of pumping out all kinds of work at their level, including a paper cup turkey decoration which could be used as their table centerpiece.  There was a place on each "feather" to list an item or idea for which the student  is thankful.  My favorite, of course, was seeing "God" or "Jesus" and actually those Persons were pretty popular.  Don't know if each student thought singularly or if the words made their way around the classroom, and they were snagged by the kids who didn't know what else to write.

In the first grade, crayons are the coloring utensil of choice.  They do indeed break and then there is the peeling factor, but generally speaking, those things have stood the test of time.  Enter me and my ideas.  Noticing the students struggling with getting their crayons back into their respective boxes, torn cardboard, bottoms falling out, my mind bleeped over to how incredibly versatile sandwich baggies are.  Wouldn't it be wonderful if the crayons could be in this see-through plastic showroom of sorts on each student's desk.  The box is dark inside and finding the correct color can sometimes be frustrating.  The baggie idea would solve this.  So I began handing the baggies out and the students thought Christmas had arrived!

Yes, the idea was one of both form and function.  The teacher thinks me a genius and barring the thought of a boy or girl poking through the bag, this will now be the foolproof tradition in this teacher's classroom. Not as splendid as the Thanksgiving holiday, not even close, but enjoyable nonetheless.

What's in Your PocketBook?

I arrive in the classroom before any of the students get there.  I tuck my pocketbook away in a cubby and it leaves with me for lunch and comes back with me for the rest of the day.  I always have a pencil in my hand which enables me to jot something down for a student, or to hand the pencil off to the student who has once again broken his pencil's point.  When I was in the fifth grade, my joke, "having a pencil without a point is pointless" was understood and the students would chuckle.  Can't use that joke on first graders.  This reminds me of how I have to customize my humor to the age of the children I am with.  "Sorry, Charlie.  Wait, your name is not Charlie" worked well in second grade, the pointless pencil joke worked well in fifth grade.  I'm getting off topic but perhaps I can tie this all together soon.  Or perhaps not.

Oh yeah.  When I was in the fifth grade, allowing the students to use my colored pens would not only brighten their papers, but also their day.  Fortunately, the teacher I worked with would agree with all my ideas and think it lovely that the students would happily participate based on the interesting writing tool of mine they would use.  These kids were great, they'd use the pen and hand it back to me at the end of class.  I always thought that quite something for public school students.

So, I have a silvery case which is supposed to be for cosmetics which I use for a pencil/pen case in my purse.  I used the same one last year in the fifth grade, too.   The girls would love to pick through it to find their favorite color pen.  I have not handed out pens to first-graders for obvious reasons.  But this last indoors lunch recess we shared, I set some of the pens out, and the delight of the approximate five six year olds who were writing in their little "recess" books (my idea, pretty cool, right?) was delightful to witness.   Why, Mrs. Diehm was letting them use things that came out of her pocketbook!  One student's attention turned to my pocketbook and she seemed surprised that I had one.  She peeked into it and noticed that my wallet was shiny like the case the pens came out of.  She must have seen my keys in the purse and she looked up at me and asked, "Do you have a car?"

One tender, innocent inquiry which made my heart smile and muse at the simplicity and honesty of a child's question and how truly sweet this little girl is.  She was looking into a place not everyone can look, her "teacher's" purse.  It whet her appetite for information, to dig deeper about the owner, a person who is warm and helpful to her.  May it be so when we go into the Word of God.  May what we see in there cause us to look into the face of the One who cares so deeply for us, with a pure desire to get to speak to Him, and to come to know Him better.

What is it about Coffee?

It seems to me you could talk about coffee and all of the kinds and all of the ways and all of the prices that go along with coffee consumption until you are blue in the face.  Not that trying to convince someone that coffee is indeed a satisfying hot beverage should be your goal. Not that one is missing out on what life is all about if clasping a warm-on-the-verge-of-hot cinnamon nut mocha is not part of their daily experience.  You could talk forever about coffee I think, over coffee.

Memories of favorite cups of it in different places at different times of day, literally over the years, with different folks or all by myself, coffee has held a popular spot in my life.  I actually had a bachelorette party before the sun came up on my wedding day at Dunkin Donuts with a handful of my girlfriends.  I had tired rings under my eyes in my wedding photographs because of getting up so early, but I think it was worth it.

The cup and how it feels in my hand matters, the season does not matter, the freshness matters, but to someone else the cup may not matter, the season may matter and maybe someone would not care if it had been sitting in a pot for three hours before they were able to sip it.  Oh and what is pretty important is how the rim of the cup feels on my lips.  And I don't like styrofoam.  If I order a medium sized cup in Dunkin, I also ask for a small cup to pour it in because the small-sized cup is cardboard as opposed to the medium sized cup being styro.

My initials match Dunkin Donuts, my daughter, whose initials match Dunkin Donuts worked there for three plus years and her coffee-stained clothes did not upset me.  I used to love to stop there while she was working because she could put together the best-tasting cup in Bergen County, I kid you not.  Lately, however, since she is away at college, I have been enjoying coffee comfort at home, all by myself.  The thought of having my first cup in the morning works better than an alarm clock to get me up and at 'm.

This is all quite personal and yet I share the info openly because I love coffee.  May seem superficial to some (and I would bet those "some" are not coffee-lovers.  You have to be one to understand.)  "Our" population is LARGE which is not arguable. A certain high-priced "brightdollars" chain has stores splashed around like drops from a gigantic spilled coffee pot!!  I just hold on to the fact that they are good for the economy and try not to judge how much they actually get per cup...

So, after all is said and drank, to coffee-lovers everywhere, count your blessings when you indulge, knowing the Source of All Comfort does not exist in that cup of coffee, tho He has given us all things richly to enjoy.  But I think the real proverb here can be said like this - peace is having a cup of coffee, and knowing Who to thank.

Uninspired

Carole King was one of my favorite singers back in the 70's.  Her Tapestry album was blissful to me.  Each song on that thing was so gorgeous, so moving, so meaningful to my teenage psyche.  My dream, really, was to have the ability to sit at a piano, play it, and make melodic tones with my voice as I leaned into the microphone.  I wanted to be a Carole King.

For the record, at this point, the depth and richness of contemporary Christian music has filled my life with joy.  Now my dream is to be Amy Grant.  Just kidding.  Sort of.  At any rate, allow me to make a point using a blast from the past, bear with me as I talk about one of Carole's songs in particular.  Hey, at least I'm not talking about The Monkeys...

For some reason when I began this post, the title I gave to it popped in my head.  The word "uninspired" was in Carole King's song Natural Woman.  What in the world did she mean by "natural woman?"  Recalling the lyrics of the song, I believe there was a specific connotation, that being a natural woman is somehow linked to having a feeling of freedom and power within, because some guy digs you.

Thank God for Christendom which supersedes all that the world would make "normal" or "natural."  Thank God inspiration, being inspired, is a supernatural phenomena, God-given.  No reason to ever be uninspired.