How to Jump into a Week that is Rumbling By

Blueberry and banana puree cling to the side of the glass. We've been blending and drinking fruit smoothies multiple times a week, it seems. Mark's trying to get healthier and knows this is one way to raise his fruit serving count. Jumping at any opportunity for vitamin C this week, I've chimed in often: "Me too, please? Can I have some?" He nods and slides a few more chunks of frozen mango and berries into his glass to thaw.

Photo: Flickr user Miriam, Creative Commons, cc license

In the aftermath of Christmas break, we have crawled sluggish and sleepy into this new week. School started Monday. Today while Morgan slipped downstairs after breakfast to resume her eleventh grade classes, I started a pot of water to boil and negotiated five additional minutes from Daniel.

"We'll start school in five minutes, okay, bud? I want to make coffee first."

He is the luckiest first grader in the world. He is more than happy to go back to building Lego creations while his mom grinds Sumatra beans, rinses out old grounds, and swipes the last grains of coffee gravel into the glass french press. The round metal teapot whistles in urgent rising crescendo.

Setting a timer for four minutes, I leave the french press plunger upraised, suspended as water and coffee grounds mingle. Pulling up a chair, I call Daniel over, push back the orchid pot, and scrawl dates across workbook margins. We scrape chairs and pencils, scooting closer, and Daniel works sums across the page.

Rising to plunge, press, and pour brown amber, I return with a full steaming cup of coffee and a small thermos. Helping Daniel with a question, I then grab my Bible and we lapse into quiet reading. He hums and swings legs under his chair beside me or bursts into home-made jokes, and I grin and guide him into the next section of his school. As he reads and circles short vowel words and spellings, I pick up my own pencil and scrawl notes in the margin of my Bible.

A nagging cough has sapped my energy and crossed lines through all my well-intentioned To-Do lists. I've been gathering strength in bursts to accomplish the necessary tasks throughout the last two weeks, but have been thankful to sneak away to quiet corners whenever I can.

Tipping up the fuchsia and grey thermos, I pour more coffee into my cup. Tiny splatters dot the dining room table and steam rises from my mug. Taking a deep sip and sliding my Bible closer, I feel the warmth sink in. "And God is able to to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work," 2 Corinthians 9:8 says.

One thing at a time. Start slowly, Jen. Coffee. Family. God's word, and the morning rumbles on.

Hello, my friend. How was your Christmas break? Are you feeling sleepy and slow-moving as you jump into this week too?

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On their First Days Back to School

Photo: cx33000, Flickr user, Creative Commons cc license

An imperceptible noise wakes me and I turn. Red digital numbers gleam 6:44 am and I am grateful, Thanks for waking me up, God. I slip quietly out of bed, wanting to hug and pray for John on his first day back to school.

Yellow kitchen light washes streaks across a dark living room carpet, and I can hear John around the corner.

"Hi," I grin sleepily and hug him, my eyes still creased against the brightness. Tall, broad-shouldered, my twenty year old is packing a lunch. Bagging baby carrots, a ham and wheat sandwich, and looking around for chips, he already has a plastic container of yesterday's fried rice.

"I'll be at school all day today," he says, closing the bread bag.

"There are apples," I murmur.

While he is gathering his lunch, I pray aloud for him, asking God to give him safety in rush hour roads, energy and excitement for his college classes, connections with his professors, and a good year of learning. He stops and smiles, "Mmm, thanks, Mom."

We hug and move to the front stairway entry where he loads his backpack.

"Oh hey, here is a red notebook for you!" I scramble away for a moment, returning with a simple single subject notebook, a traditional gift for my kids each year when they used to journal often. "It's your favorite color."

"Thanks," he grins, flipping it open. "Um..." and he shows me. An assembly error has stapled all the pages upside down. We laugh, and John grabs his bag.

"Have a great day," I say, sitting small on the steps above him. "I'm proud of you for getting up early for your classes, for getting a lunch, and being so organized. You got this! You can do this."

"Thanks, Mom," he says, and he opens his heart up more on his way out the door, and I am so thankful for this morning of seeing him off.

Thanks, God, for waking me up. What a gift.

Transforming Homework Sessions into Home Memories

Wind chimes clang in the ten degree weather, and students everywhere unload textbooks and notebooks across kitchen tables, or toss heavy backpacks onto worn couches.

Artist Hilda Robinson, "Studying at the Table"

What transforms homework sessions into home memories? 

It's the x-factor, that unknown variable that finagles its way into each afternoon. Whether its mixed formulas in Algebra or seismology from Physical Science, there is always a potential for life to be shaken right up, huh?

Class homework seems to be an afterschool event in most families. How do we create happy family environments and memories while flipping pages, erasing problems gone wrong, and keeping everyone on task?

Cutting into gooey caramel-chocolate cupcakes, my teen daughter and I wrote out algebra problems side-by-side on the sunny kitchen table today. I sipped hot coffee and we looked together at the problems she had misunderstood earlier.

"Oh, I see it. I know what I did wrong," she exclaimed, circling a forgotten negative sign. We moved on to other problems, cracking jokes, getting drinks of water, and talking with others in the room.

After one too many interruptions, I became agitated and brusquely brought us back on track. "Okay, let's focus now," I said, sterner than I needed to.

"Mom, we're fine. It's okay. I'm working," assured Morgan.

I paused and remembered. Laughter, calm, and intentionality make the difference. We both visibly relaxed, sinking deeper into our chairs in the sunlight, working quietly on math problems together. Quiet saxophone music played from a corner of the kitchen.

Later Daniel and I read books together, noticing rhyming sounds, commenting on watercolor illustrations, and learning about bats and shadows. We made paper cut outs for shadows, and cast long pictures across the living room floor, before ducking into the bathroom with a flashlight too. Shadow bats, cats, and snowmen wavered in the light, dancing in his hands.

"See how any shadow picture needs the light?" I taught Daniel. "Without light there is no shadow. Where is the light source to make this shadow?"  

Those phrases suddenly seemed much deeper than simple preschool science. To cast a picture, there is always a light. There is always a light. Where is the light source? Without the light there is no image.

Hmm, I snapped off the red flashlight, and headed back to the kitchen. Peaceful saxophone music still played, Morgan gathered up her heavy science books, and I sought out children's videos about bats.

(Also linking up with Emily at Imperfect Prose.)

Start the Year off Right: Building Confident Kids Who See Others

In an eight am to two pm day of orientation for PSEO students (high school students taking free college classes for dual credits), we have been released for a social mingling time. My brown-haired John stretches long arms, arcing tired shoulders, and cracks his knuckles, in the arena where all students are to stay. Parents are making their way out to an atrium for coffee and discussions.

John expresses a very French mentality aloud to me when he says, “In my classes I plan on really getting to know the kids and look forward to it, but this time here…” he trails off and I understand. Why build too deep of conversations now with people you may never see again? We grin at each other and I repeat aloud what we have always done. “Well, you can use this time to look for the people who seem to be alone, and reach out to them.” He smiles and stands. 

As I step into the corridor, I hear his confident voice saying, “Hi, what’s your name?” and then his pleased response to a quiet voice, “Oh, Morgan? That’s my sister’s name!” He fades out of hearing as I close in with a throng of moms and dads heading for the styrofoam cups of coffee. Several minutes later, cradling a bulk-brewed cup of java, I scan the crowd, and take turns walking up to some women. “Hi…” 

The best advice I ever received about people – in addition to the truth that Jesus made them wonderfully and loves them—is the concept that everyone feels shy, nervous or insecure at times. 

I didn’t learn that until my first year of college. A tall blonde waitress at the Italian restaurant I worked at oozed confidence. All the male workers noticed her, and I shyly wondered if my new boyfriend at the time would succumb to her charms as well. God nudged me to reach out to her on several occasions, but I was sure I had misheard him. She didn’t look as if she needed any new friends. One afternoon shift, though, I found her crying in a back room. We talked for a while and hugged, and I realized how wrong I had been. Everyone needs kind smiles, a friendly hello, and sincerity, no matter how confident, successful, put-together or popular they look. Everyone needs to know that they have value.

So, the next time you are feeling shy… inhale, remember what God says about your value and their value, and then walk up to them, smiling. “Hi…” 

To build confident compassionate kids, whisper to them the truths of who God says they are. Help them see others in that same way. Let them in on the secret that everyone –no matter how confident they appear—is insecure at times about something. Then unleash them to love others with our Abba’s love.  

...I love talking with you. What advice would you pass on to new students this year? Or, what do you wish you had known about people earlier? (To join the discussion from email, click here.)