Good reading for today: Where did Charlotte Mason stand?

On the Northwest by North blog: was Charlotte Mason progressive, classical, or unique?

Recommended for your educational pondering.

Quote for the day: Why not to fight at Christmas dinner

"What can we give Him this Christmas?  I think one thing in our lives that would bring Him great joy was to bring peace into the fellowships in which we find ourselves...Not everyday, mind you.  For God does call us at times to stand our ground and to be His salt and light to the world.  There are those whom He ordains to forge Truth in a dark world.  But during these days ahead, when families are surrounding the dinner table, we can give Him the gift of bringing peace to the Season." ~~ Brenda at Coffee, Tea, Books, and Me, "Sunday Afternoon Tea - Silent Night"

From the archives: Making it do, when it's not what you ordered

First posted January 2007. Slightly edited, and the links have been removed...eleven years is a long time!

Make It Do has always been one of my favourite topics. Except that the phrase Make It Do sounds a bit grim, like Grin and Bear It. I prefer the Common Room's question, "What Do You Have In Your Hand?" Or in your cupboard...or on your bookshelf. What DO we have in this camp kitchen to feed the two vegetarians? (I talked the cook into putting some of the soup into another pot before he added meat.) What can we do with all this coloured telephone wire in the craft room? (Braided bracelets for eighty campers.) 

What's In Your Hand is Ma Ingalls and blackbird pies. It's popsicle sticks and Cheerios for math, and teaching phonics with a pile of old Highlights magazines. It's all those recipes invented to use up things like rhubarb that really don't taste so good on their own. (OK, I know there are people who chew on raw rhubarb...) It's how we once taught Sunday School in a un-child-friendly college classroom: we stuck pictures up with Stick-tack and took them down again every week, brought old couch cushions to sit on and our own toys to play with, and let the kids colour at the adult-sized tables. And they did manage fine without mini-sized chairs.

Use Your Creativity is about surprise and discovery, instead of just "I suppose I can make do with it." It's Athena-in-a-Minivan's kids retelling stories with Playmobil. It's Ponytails' coloured-pencil drawing to go with Mendelssohn's Fingal's Cave. It's Homeschool Radio Shows' Fourth Annual Make-Your-Own-Radio-Show Contest. It's Meredith's closet makeover and tree-frog-painted table. It's two balls of Dollarama yarn that got turned into one pair of slippers (for Crayons), a dolly hat and scarf, and a couple of hair scrunchies. (You couldn't buy all that even at Dollarama for the two dollars the yarn cost.)

Make It Do is combining two or more parts to make something better than a whole. Instead of waiting for the perfect thing to arrive, the perfect homeschool curriculum to be written, or our body to revert to the perfect size, we use what's there. Can we use it a little differently? Do we need to adapt, go faster/slower, make it more challenging, skip the questions or tests, include more hands-on activities? Or should we use just the best part of it?

We're using a not-perfect curriculum for math; but it doesn't matter that it doesn't cover everything, because there are lots of ways to learn the things that it doesn't include, and it's kind of interesting having a break from the same workbook all the time anyway. Combining resources for homeschool science can make a stronger overall program than trying to pick one perfect textbook or study guide. We just got an Astronomy book for next year's school--but we also have an old [Educational Insights] Sky Science experiment kit and several books about the solar system, so we'll combine what we have.

And Make It Do is finding new ways to use what you already have. Cutting holes into the bottom edges of a cereal box is one surefire way of getting kids to notice long-neglected marbles (you shoot them at the holes). You can use wooden blocks to build temporary furniture for plastic trolls. You can learn new rules for cards, checkers, or dominoes.

Not what you ordered? Not just what you hoped for? Make it do. And have fun.

On the third Sunday of Advent: Come, hidden Wisdom

On the third Sunday of Advent, I invite you to wander over to Malcolm Guite's website, and enjoy his poem "O Sapienta."  (It's at the end of the post, along with a sound clip.)

"Come, hidden Wisdom, come with all you bring,
Come to me now, disguised as everything."

Something to read today: why neither less nor more will make us happier, and why happy maybe isn't the point

Some thoughts on the question of whether the trend toward minimalism and simplicity is a worthwile pursuit for Christians.

Can We Declutter Our Way to Christ?

On the minimalism trend and the allure of living with less.

KATE SHELLNUTT | Christianity Today, JULY 14, 2015

Tech Warning: This two-page article appears on the Christianity Today site in a "preview" format. You can only access the story once, unless you have an account there. That's why I wasn't able to include the quote I liked from the end of the article: it's disappeared on me.

About home stuff: something to read today

Blogger Leah at StyleWise has a post up about the way homes have become, more than ever, public fishbowls for our "image." It might not be a bad image; it might be a very sharp minimalist or delightfully retro image. The point is that what you had in your house didn't matter so much in years past, any more than what your lunch looked like. Now there's a push to keep ourselves on display, and even to keep changing and updating so that "our" social media pics don't get stale.

I put "our" because even that idea is a bit contrived. Probably only a handful of people you know in real life worry about those things. Contrary to expectations, not everybody has a phone-plus. Some people I know don't even have email. Gasp.

But the push on expectations is there, and we're probably going to run into it or up against it. Like our family story about taking a Squirreling to the fast-food indoor playland for a birthday party, and discovering that it was no big deal for her little friends, who were probably there every week. Or like inviting people over who Just Don't Get It.

Well, it happens.

But read the post anyway.

From the archives: Trust and Okay (Why sing hymns?)

First posted July 2007, somewhat edited this time around.

One blog leads to another: the always-thoughtworthy Wittingshire blog posted a quote from George Wiegel, and Wittingshire was linked to by The Paragraph Farmer, which I got to by following the Deputy Headmistress's Sunday Hymn Post. This is the quote from George Wiegel, at least the bit I reallly liked: 

"A thoroughly secularized world is a world without windows, doors, or skylights: a claustrophobic, ultimately suffocating world."

Imagine never hearing the soaring words of Holy, Holy, Holy--Reginald Heber's words, or Nolene Prince's chorus from Isaiah 6:3, I don't care which--I always hear both of them flying out the windows, through the skylights, up past our small selves here. It's the poetry of the words as well as their literal meaning that opens those windows, though. Otherwise we might as well just have "What a mighty God we serve, what a mighty God we serve." Not the same at all.

Again from one blog to another: Lawrence Henry wrote this in The American Spectator, the JunkYard Blog commented on it, and the Deputy Headmistress picked it up as well:

"IT IS AN INTERESTING PARADOX. Churches devoted to rigorous, difficult theology -- real Christianity, in short -- have largely adopted praise music, mainly to get people in the doors. In doing so, they have denied their parishioners an intimate connection with the art, the music, the poetry, and the history of the faith of our fathers, embodied in hymns.

"Mainstream churches, which have left Christianity behind for liberation theology, "peace and justice" theory, deconstruction, and modernism, still cling to the hymnbook, to the hard work of teaching choirs to sing in harmony, and to the expense of maintaining pipe organs.

"If only they took as good care of the faith."

The congregation we've been part of for the last while was  formed partly out of this same question of worship style and content: those who rebelled against "My All in All"/overheads/praise bands, among other things. Since we meet in a rented assembly room, singing is accompanied by a piano and led by a song leader (there isn't usually a choir). Ironically, "My All in All" is included in the hymnal they chose; I think we sang it a couple of weeks ago. That hymnal is full of other little surprises, too: every so often I get hit with a chorus I haven't sung since the '80's and never really wanted to hear again. But generally we're on the same track: the hymns we sing at home often get sung at church as well.

But I have one more thing to throw in here about hymns, in case you think I've gone too far off the original point.  I would like hymns--real hymns--at my funeral, whenever I eventually get to shed this mortal coil. I don't care if every person there has to stumble through the words and doesn't know the music, I want some songs with meat on them. How can you get through any kind of a crisis without knowing that "on Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand?" This is something we've lost as a culture, especially during the worst times: being able to cling not only to the words of Scripture we know, but the poetry of the Psalms and hymns that has been written over and over on our hearts. How many families are there who hang up the phone after good or bad news and reach for the hymn book? Crayons once goofted on the name of the hymn "Trust and Obey." She called it "Trust and Okay," but I think that's closer to the truth of what I'm saying.

When I sing, "With ever joyful hearts, and blessed peace to cheer us," I think of the pastor who wrote those words during a plague. When I hear about "sorrow and love flow mingled down," I know something of Christ's love for us during our worst times. When I hear some of the "get people in the doors" stuff--I don't hear anything. It's not that older hymns are just macaroni and cheese to me, a matter of emotion and familiarity and comfort; it's not just style and taste. It's what they are filled with that goes flying away from me myself, past what I know, to something bigger than I am.

God is here within us,

Soul, in silence fear Him,

Humbly, fervently draw near Him.

Now His own

Who have known

God, in worship lowly,

Yield their spirits wholly.

--Gerhard Tersteegen, 1729

Rise and shine (or, the unexpected journey toward minimalist living)

So did you have a chance yet to look at 10 Ways Minimalism Ruined My Life Forever? It's tongue-in-cheek, of course, because the Welder's Wife blog is all about letting things go and living more naturally, a little at a time. An example of her objections: "I no longer have the pleasure of searching for something."  But yes, she's right, in a way. Making more "mindful" choices in any area of our lives takes more brain power than taking the default option. Most times those choices are going to cost us something, or at least force us to use flabby will-muscles that are, naturally, going to object to being roused and stretched.

Our old habits, too, may not take kindly to being ignored. The clean-swept room, and all that. If you find a certain comfort in piles of things, or enjoy having something of an Undiscovered Country in the basement, then trimming stuff down may seem akin to stripping naked. There are always things we would just as soon hide, and I don't mean the garbage bag (or three) full of mouldering stuffed animals or high school t-shirts, but the anxieties and old scripts that brought them in and left them there in the first place. Letting stuff go can feel like you've just been kicked in the hopes and dreams. Or like you've just let somebody down who would be very, very disappointed in you for not keeping that thing.

After giving it some thought, I would say that the biggest thing you might lose, on the way to living with less, is a sense of urgency. Or emergency. That is (as the Welder's Wife said), you miss not only the fun of searching for a needle in a clutter haystack or an overstuffed desk drawer, but the embarrassment, panic, and threatened consequences that sometimes go with those searches. We can find more enjoyable ways to get that adrenaline rush.

And it's true, as that post says, that if we suddenly are freed from shopping and maintaining and paying for things, we may have to face questions like "what else is there to do with my time?" As with silence, many of us are a little uncomfortable with empty spaces, both physical and temporal.

But reality sometimes (thankfully) steps in and gives us no choice, or at least makes very clear what choices we need to make, and fast. A Sold sign out front is one way to do it. For some people like Courtney Carver, change comes after a health crisis.  Or someone asks us to come on a dragon-hunting adventure, with dwarves...and pack light.

A minimalist blog for you to check out

Have you seen this one yet? A Welder's Wife: A Southern-Style Minimalist Blog. 

Favourite post so far: 10 Ways Minimalism Ruined My Life Forever.

Something to read today: beyond pretty things

Pointing you to A Holy Experience today to read "Go Ahead: Why You Can Give Up On the Goal of a Beautiful Life."

From the archives, but not these archives

Almost exactly six years ago, I wrote a guest post for SouthernMel's blog Educating Mother. Which I had totally forgotten about until today.

Here's the link.

Now I need to go track down a couple of those books I said I was going to read. Which I got sidetracked on and didn't.

"Go live those things"

It's funny, how many things eventually fall into much the same patterns.

When you've been around Charlotte Mason education long enough, you start to find the phrase "Charlotte Mason education" awkward and redundant; there is simply education, the principles and practice and goal of true education, whatever name you put on it. Education is a discipline, an atmosphere, a life.

In Christianity, you start to hear the idea that there is no "Christian life": it's just "life." That can be an unsettling one.  Some may protest that it's splitting hairs, playing with words; but it begins to make sense. Christ came not that we might have Christian life, but that we might have life.

One of the most interesting blog posts I read this weekend is "Beyond Minimalism," at Simplicity Relished. Daisy, the blogger there, makes some of those same points. Nobody wants to be a minimalist just so that they can be more of a minimalist, right? Cleaned-out closets are not an end in themselves. In attempting to separate the tool of minimalism from the goal of meaningful living, she says,

"Minimalism doesn’t hold life-giving purpose. It can lead us in a good direction– but somewhere along the way we have to find the actual source of purpose. We need to identify what it is that matters more than the items we clear out of our lives. More than stuff, more than busy-ness, more than useless information, more than meaningless social engagements. And then we have to go live those things."

Daisy also has a gorgeously-photographed post about using a variety of fair-trade jewelry on a simple dress. (She says she's building "an accessory arsenal.") Other minimalist writers urge us to curtail accessories, don't have more than one pair of earrings, one scarf, and so on. Is one approach more valid than another? Daisy's sleeveless wool dress might be simple, but it's not cheap; does that make it a more or less minimalist choice than the somewhat-similar navy cotton dress I found recently at the thrift store?

The simplest response is that we're individuals, and we take truths and express them in our own ways. The DHM at The Common Room posted today about Charlotte Mason education (or just "education"), reminding us to "mix it with brains."  There are important foundations, key principles, examples and guidelines; but no precise recipe.

We just have to go live it.

A great Charlotte Mason post at Afterthoughts

Best thing to read today: "Are You Sabotaging Your Charlotte Mason Homeschool?" (At Afterthoughts)

The most helpful set of cleaning tips I've seen lately

A blog post about getting the thrift store smell out of things, but it's better than that. How to use saddle soap and shoe polish on leather, remove yellowing, and use suede erasers (did you know they existed?) Extending the life of things is always a good idea.

Best thing to read today

At the Circe Institute blog: Great Books Give Us Something to be Human With.

Some beginner crocheting is easier than others (Do-Vember #24)

Do-Vember

Today's Do-Vember post is inspired by a roundup article I found on Pinterest: The 5 Best Patterns for Crochet Beginners at Sewrella.com.

In my mind there's more than one kind of crochet beginner. There's the person who is in the midst of learning to crochet, and, like a beginning reader, needs practice material that is do-able, doesn't use words he hasn't learned yet, and is also short. For absolute beginning crocheters, especially children, something about the size of a bookmark or a friendship bracelet is what you should be looking for; or possibly something crocheted over an elastic ring or pipe cleaner that doesn't involve having to make stitches into other stitches. Potholders are pretty boring and sometimes not that practical unless you line them with something heatproof; dishcloths are not hard to make, but you need the right kind of yarn. As I've said before, my first crocheting experience was with a hat, crocheted in the round, which probably seemed simple to the person teaching us but which was too longwinded for ten-year-olds, and required too much stitch counting. (But I did finish mine. I did wear it. And I did keep crocheting.) Making a small project is a good idea even for advanced crocheters, if you're trying out a new technique. A dishcloth in a fancy stitch is a lot less work than a whole afghan.

The other kind of beginner is someone who knows enough simple crochet stitches to make something square or maybe round; who may have been doing those simple stitches for years, and who has no real interest in doing anything fancier. (Someone who crochets on about the same level as the way I play chess.) This person is probably an adult, or an older student, and he/she has enough stamina to stick with a scarf or an afghan.

So how do the 5 Best Patterns rank?

The first one is actually a bit misleading. It's called a Chain Stitch Ear Warmer, which I assumed would be something magically made of nothing but chain stitches (wouldn't kids who only like to chain love that?). It's not that hard to make, but it does include single crochet and half-double crochet as well. On the plus side, it would work up quickly. A headband or ear warmer would have been great for our school crochet class, for example, instead of a whole hat.

The second pattern is a Chunky Blanket, made with thick yarn and single-crochet stitches. This would be great for the adult or older child with limited crochet knowledge, but with enough patience to make a whole blanket. For advanced crocheters, making a whole afghan with only single-crochet stitches would probably become tedious, but for the right person, it would be something to be justly proud of.

Pattern #3, striped bookmarks, looks like an easy one. However, as the designer admits, all those stripes are going to make a lot of loose ends that need to be woven in. Also, the material suggested, embroidery floss, is probably not a top choice for real beginners. The upside is that, as I mentioned before, bookmarks are a small, easily-finished project. For real beginners, I would have them use lightweight yarn, in just one colour; or if they wanted stripes, I would probably have them work lengthwise so that there would be fewer colour changes. Too many messy ends aren't a fun way to finish any project.

Pattern #4, a mini basket, requires that you know how to increase and work in the round. It's at about the same level of difficulty as the doll hats we made here. Before starting something like this, I'd get beginners to make round coasters, which are similar to the shape of a basket base. Once you've made something like this basket, you can use the same techniques to make amigurumi animals...or hats.

The fifth pattern is a baby afghan, made with a large hook and Bernat Blanket Yarn, again using half-double crochet (a stitch that does have some quirks, not always the easiest for beginners). Bernat Blanket Yarn sounds like it would be ideal for a soft little baby blanket, but actually it's a very chunky chenille, and as you can see from the photo (if you click on the pattern), that's exactly what the blanket looks like. I agree that it would work up quickly, but whether this would be a good choice for a baby blanket is another question. My two cents: buy more yarn and make it one of those so-stylish regular-sized chunky afghans, instead of making it for a baby.

Sorry if I'm sounding too critical about these, but there's one lesson to take away: if you're trying to teach a new skill to someone else: see what they know, and start from there. Don't make somebody swim laps who's just learning to stay afloat. Also, think about the practicality or suitability of the project you're proposing, or the material you're making it from, or the colour of yarn you have to work with. If all you have is black or brown yarn, and you hate wearing black or brown, don't make yourself a hat out of it (besides, black is not a beginner-friendly colour to work with--too hard to see the stitches). Use it for something fun like...maybe a bat?

Image from Planet June website

Finally, here's a pattern suggestion for crocheters of any skill level: Planet June's Mini Wreath Ornament. Fun to make, and very simple. Enjoy crocheting!

From the archives: Waving our homeschool catalogues, or, what makes a real teacher?

First posted November 2007 (links edited)

Jacci M at "The Educational Life" has a thought-provoking post [no longer available] about the naïveté shared by many new homeschoolers (green as grass, right?): how can we, without formal teacher's training or experience, dare to say we are prepared to teach our children? Her solution is a good dose of Charlotte Mason's books, and I'd go along with that.

However, I'm not so sure that we, coming into homeschooling, are necessarily as unprepared, or as different from any other new teachers, as her scenario suggests:

"She [your child's imagined teacher] smiles a cheerful smile and explains that this will be her first year teaching. Although she went to college, she really has very little actual training in education. Her degree was in history. She did very well academically, though, and has always loved children. She babysat a lot as a teenager and was the oldest of four children. She's looked through teacher catalogs a lot, too, so she feels that she's fairly ready. Understandably, you're a little taken aback. Has she ever taught a child to read? What about handwriting? Does she have experience there? Or math? Did she receive any training in teaching math to young children? What are her thoughts on children's literature? Does she know how she will make sure the children are processing what they are reading? Her answer to all of your questions is, basically, "no". She seems very relaxed about it, though, and very matter-of-factly says that she has the curriculum the school system provided, and she will just learn along with the class."

Yeah, I know, that's how the school system and a lot of non-homeschoolers see us. As if we hadn't yet penetrated the mysteries of learning...as my husband's grandmother used to say darkly, just wait, you'll see.

However, is this hypothetical homeschooler much different from any other first-year teacher? Where I live, a B.Ed. is a post-grad degree, so every new teacher has a bachelor's in something or other--same as this story--plus One Year of Teacher's Ed. Is that long enough to make you an expert in teaching? If lacking one year of university classes and a couple of practice-teaching sessions is all that separates me from a first-year "professional teacher," I don't know why I should feel much behind. In my own pre-homeschool experience (that's up until The Apprentice was four), I would include all the babysitting and so on (and don't make light of that) plus several years of Sunday School teaching, volunteering in what was then called a TMR class, tutoring a special-needs student, directing camp arts and crafts for a summer (yeah, me), doing library music and movement programs for a summer (yeah, me again), volunteering at my toddler's weekly community-centre program, and taking several relevant university courses (developmental psychology, children's literature and so on). Had I ever taught anybody to read?--not from the ground up, unless you count playing school with my little sister. (Did that end up mattering?--well, no, all my Squirrelings have learned to read, with or without my help.)

But even more important than that--I had the luxury of a couple of years of "apprenticing" before I jumped in myself. I went to homeschool meetings and at least two conferences during that time, and I listened. And yes, along with talking to the real-life homeschoolers at the meetings, at church and down the street, I had the privilege of "meeting" Charlotte Mason, Ruth Beechick, Gayle Graham, Valerie Bendt, Mary Pride, Cathy Duffy, and other teaching parents who had written down what they'd learned. Oh, and John Holt. By the time I was ready to, figuratively, take my place at the front of the classroom, I had a very good idea of what was and wasn't going to work for us, and even some idea of why.

And you CAN learn a lot by browsing teacher catalogues--both the homeschool-friendly variety and the other kind. The best homeschool catalogues have detailed and sometimes critical descriptions and comparisons of the products (does anyone else in Ontario still miss Lifetime Canada/Maple Ridge Books?). And the other kind...well, as I've said before, you can learn from what you don't need.

Besides, you're not presuming to sit in front of a class of thirty, waving your catalogue as qualification; you are planning to provide the brain-food for your own children. This week, this month. You do not need a teaching degree to follow AmblesideOnline's HELP crisis plan, to read them a chapter of Understood Betsy and play math games with marbles or cereal. Homeschooling methods are, and should be, somewhat different from public school ones; remember that "we don't have to slice bread with a chainsaw" (a quote from The Common Room).

So while I would strongly agree with Jacci's advice to new homeschoolers (learn from the best parent-teacher-education resources you can get hold of, including Charlotte Mason's works; strive to understand what and why you do what you do; learn the best methods you can and base them on solid educational and spiritual philosophy), I would also like to reassure those who want to homeschool and maybe feel like they're not qualified (didn't finish college or whatever). Understand that being your children's parent, in at least one sense, qualifies you. Yes, you can learn more; and no, a browse through a catalogue is probably not enough to get you going. But you can learn, and much better and faster than the teachers' unions and other naysayers would like you to believe. (Feetnote: Jacci's not a naysayer, just to clarify that.)

From the archives: Making it Christmas

First posted November 2012 (links edited)

This post is not about the spiritual side of Christmas, because that part of Christmas...the real, Joy-to-the-World Christmas... is there no matter what. This is more about the fun stuff:  the gifts, the food, the trimmings.  The things that take time, take money, or just take thought.  

For centuries men have kept an appointment with Christmas. Christmas means fellowship, feasting, giving and receiving, a time of good cheer, home. --W. J. Tucker

These are not necessarily--in fact they're almost never--the same as the things that are advertised.  They're certainly not along the lines of "buy her a diamond for Christmas."

For some people, Christmas trimmings are new window blinds and ginger beer.

Marjorie Gibson is another Guyanese who believes that Christmas in the USA cannot even come near those she experienced in Guyana.

“In Guyana you would get up in the morning and look over at your neighbour to see what type of blinds (curtains) they put up, if they have new ones. Here the blinds could be up for the whole year and it does not matter,” Gibson stated....“We do have all the traditional Christmas food," [said Marilyn Harper.] "I try to make Christmas the way I remember it in Guyana. I have everything, my ginger beer, sorrel, the black cake as usual and everything.”--"U.S.-based Guyanese Dream of Christmas in the Motherland"

What has inspired your ideas about how to make Christmas?  Or what a really good Christmas would be...realistic or not?

For years, people said "Dickens' Christmas stories."  Plum pudding, holly and all that.  But I think in more recent years a more common answer has been the Little House on the Prairiebooks, slightly ad nauseum. Tin cups, mittens, and a stick of candy, and they were so happy!  For those who didn't bother to read the books, there was always that oh-so-sweet first-season T.V. episode.  And it is a classic, I admit.

Christmas is for children. But it is for grownups too. Even if it is a headache, a chore, and nightmare, it is a period of necessary defrosting of chill and hide-bound hearts.--Lenora Mattingly Weber

However, much of Mama Squirrel's holiday inspiration has come from a smaller, stranger assortment of books and even magazine articles.  One was a Focus on the Family Magazine article, saved from a time before the Squirrellings were even thought of; it was an adaptation of the Advent and Christmas chapters in Together at Home, by Dean and Grace Merrill.  One was The Light at Tern Rock, about Christmas spent in a lighthouse. Another was Carolyn Haywood's Snowbound with Betsy.

Okay, okay, Mama Squirrel has never quite grown up?  But apparently I'm not the only one who fondly recalls the part where Betsy and the other snowbound children rummage through the storeroom for anything that might make good Christmas gifts.  They come up with all kinds of kid-made crafts, and then have a sort of bazaar and do their "shopping." 

In The Light at Tern Rock, those who end up using a trunkful of stored-up holiday plunder aren't there by choice, but because of a trick by the man who filled up the trunk in the first place.  But never mind about the deceitful lighthouse keeper for now...it's the trunk that interests me, and it's an image that often comes to mind when I'm storing away things like the cans of cranberry sauce I bought on sale today, or a package of candles, or a crocheted bookmark.  Who's the bookmark for?  Sometimes I don't even know...I just keep filling the pantry shelf, and the box under the bed (or wherever it is), here and there.  Then it's just as much fun pulling everything out again and figuring out:  yes, there's enough chocolate for Quick Fruit and Nut Fudge...I still have lots of that blue yarn, enough to make a quick pair of slippers (yes, I do know who those are for)....I saw some cool plaid ornaments in the Chapters Christmas flyer, and I bet I could make something like that with the felt and Wonder-Under in the craft stash...Everyone's "box" is different.  For one family, it's filled with MCC and World Vision catalogues, the ones where a donation pays for goats, soccer balls, clean water.  Their children spend days figuring out what they can give this year.  (Definitely beats the big gimme catalogue.)

And if you get to December and the box is still too empty to look like Christmas?

Then you read, or re-read, Little House in Brookfield (not the abridged version, please) and give thanks for Christmas bread.  Sing a few choruses of "Christmas Day is in our grasp, So long as we have hands to clasp." And maybe read this practical post by the Prudent Homemaker: Christmas on a Zero Budget.

As a postscript to this, there's one other magazine article I saved from several years back.  It also appeared in the Chicken Soup books, and I found a version of it online.  It's about a mother and two little girls who were given a Christmas food box during a difficult year--but the girls, not understanding how "poor" they were, decided to give the whole thing away to a neighbor who was even worse off. ("Even her dog was sick.")  The mother's immediate reaction was "Stop! You're giving away our Christmas!"  Then she thought again: no, that is how you make it Christmas.

Gifts of time and love are surely the basic ingredients of a truly merry Christmas. - Peg Bracken.

Something to read today, and a quote on malaise and discord

Joshua Gibbs just posted an interesting article on the Circe Institute blog, about whether one classical teacher in a school is more classical than another. He makes the point that the point is effectiveness.

But towards the end, he says something that echoes Charlotte Mason's words on teachers who wield undue influence over students, and also her beliefs on loyalty:

"So, too, the Catholic teacher who incites Presbyterian students to doubt the Presbytery is not making his students into Catholics, but atheists. Once malaise emerges, it is hard to direct. Malaise is like ink in water and becomes diffuse. In and of itself, discord does not kill morale, because man is born into trouble as the sparks rise. A little discord is unavoidable. However, the knowledge that discord is intentionally being stirred up breaks the spirit."

Worth reading and thinking about.

Great stuff to read this weekend

The Common Room shares a number of insights on reading by Isaac Watts. One thought:

"And remember that one book read over in this manner, with all this laborious meditation, will tend more to enrich your understanding, than the skimming over the surface of twenty authors."

Joshua Butcher, at the Circe blog, talks about the problems of translating classical authors, and quotes Alan Bloom:

To this Bloom replies that such translators have, “the assurance that they have a sufficient understanding of Plato’s meaning, and that that meaning is pretty much the kind of thing Englishmen or Americans already think. However, it might be more prudent to let the reader decide whether ‘the beautiful and the good’ are simply equivalent to ‘moral values.’ If they are the same, he will soon enough find out. And if they are not, as may be the case, he will not be prevented from finding that out and thereby putting his own opinions to the test.” 

Coffee, Tea, Books and Me talks about soup and cookbooks.

"Tamar Adler shared why most of us have bland bean soup and why the soup she made for Chez Panisse was delicious.  It is because we I have believed an old wive's tale about not salting beans that are cooking from the very beginning."

Socks for a cause at Ten Thousand Villages.

Prime Periwinkle thinks about bees (sort of).

To Sow a Seed has some words for parents.

"These brief years of raising children give way to a lifetime of relationship. The little boy who comes to you for ten bandaids today, the little girl who tattles on her sister every chance she gets… these are the people who will hold your hand as the older generation passes away, who will comfort you as your own days come to a close and Jesus is nearer than ever before."