Hurricanes Revisited

Hi!  Cindy Kelly here posting for Elizabeth.  As the Kelly family is hunkering down here in Florida getting ready for Hurricane Matthew to hit, Elizabeth and I decided that it was time to dust off this old Hurricane post and fix up the links.  Let's continue to pray for all of those in harms way, in particular, the people of Haiti.

Hurricanes to think about

August 26, 2011 Elizabeth Foss

Below is a repost from several years ago. Tthere is still plenty of good stuff to think about as we seize a very real opportunity to discuss hurricanes.

Hurricane Reading

Peter Spier's Rain

Galveston's Summer of the Storm

Isaac's Storm

Hurricane

Magic School Bus inside a Hurricane

Rain Makes Applesauce

Come on, Rain!

Down Comes The Rain

One Morning in Maine

Websites Worth Exploring

FEMA for Kids

National Hurricane Center

Hurricanes: How they Work and What they Do

Alphabetical Order Each year, hurricane names are assigned in alphabetical order. The list of names is recycled every six years. The names of this year's hurricanes can be found at here. List the names out of sequence and let the children put the names in alphabetical order. Ask them to notice a pattern in the names once they are in order. 

Make “lightning”. Static electricity is stored in rain clouds. When a cloud is so full of static electricity that there's no room for any more, a spark might leap from the cloud. That spark is called "lightning"! (Note: This experiment works best when the weather is dry.)

1. Tear up a sheet of tissue paper into tiny little pieces.

2. Hold a comb over the confetti.  Nothing happens.

3. Use a comb to comb the children’s hair. Or rub the comb on a piece of wool or fur.

4. Then hold the comb over the tiny tissue paper pieces.

5. What happens? Why does it happen?

The Water Cycle in a Jar. Discuss the steps of the water cycle:

(1.) Energy from the sun changes water to water vapor.

(2.) Water vapor rises. It cools and condenses to form clouds.

(3.) Winds blow the clouds over land.

(4.) Clouds meet cool air, and rain or snow falls to the ground.

(5.) Most of the water returns to large lakes and oceans.

Draw the steps for nature journals.

Now, re-create the water cycle:

1. Fill a large, glass bottle or jar half full of water .

2. Cover the jar with plastic wrap and secure the plastic wrap in place with an elastic.

3. Place the jar in a sunny window.

4. Observe for a few hours. What happens? Why did it happen?

Create a cyclone in a bottle.

Graphing. Make a bar graph of the number of hurricanes by month.

June

19 hurricanes

July

25 hurricanes

August

77 hurricanes

September

107 hurricanes

October

53 hurricanes

November

5 hurricanes

(Data shows totals for US Landfalls from1851-2015.)

And/or

Hurricanes cause millions of dollars in damages each year. Create a bar or picture graph to show the costs of Atlantic hurricane damage over the decades.

1920s

$2 billion

1930s

$6 billion

1940s

$6 billion

1950s

$13 billion

1960s

$23 billion

1970s

$21 billion

1980s

$21 billion

1990s

$78 billion

Make a weather station. Go to Making a Weather Station and follow the directions to create a weather station at home.

Geography -- track a hurricane. Print off a Tracking Map and track the path of a current storm.

Download the Hurricane Kit Checklist and create one for your own home. This is a good basic disaster kit even if you don’t live in a hurricane region.

Use watercolors to paint hurricane scenes.

Curriculum Looking for a unit study on emergency preparedness? Youth Emergency Preparedness Curriculum. 

Games  Create your own hurricane and explore the relationship between sea surface temperatures and hurricane strength.

Research

1. What's the difference between a hurricane, a cyclone, and a typhoon?

2. What is the origin of the word "hurricane"?

3. Pick a hurricane whose name has been retired.  Research the storm and find out why the name was retired. Choose from the list a hurricane a US hurricane, research the hurricane, and then create a brochure or lapbook about it. Include such things as the hurricane's path, the costs according to the actual year in which the hurricane occurred, the loss of life, loss of property (particularly notable property and landmarks), rebuilding efforts.

4.  Research relief efforts.  Which organizations rush to offer relief?  How do they operate? 

Geography. Visit Earth Science for Kids and look at the geographic areas to find current tropical storms. Locate the seven areas where tropical storms occur on a world map identify countries that might be affected by storms in each of those areas. Are storms there called typhoons, cyclones, or hurricanes?

In Books, Learning Atmosphere and Environment, Science

The Courage to Call it Home

Most women know the answer to that big question before it’s asked. I know, I thought about it. We even talked about it a few times. 

Will you marry me? 

He wrote and illustrated a short story, which ended up being the story of my life, and he left the rest of the pages blank. He asked in front of his family. It was the sweetest moment of my life. But he didn’t need the book, the audience, or the ring. I knew exactly what I wanted in life before he even asked.

At the time, I wasn’t sure if the timing was right, but I knew he was who I wanted to be with. Somehow, we’d make this work.

The same held true for the next big question he asked me, except this time he wasn’t so sure of my answer. This time, it wasn’t rehearsed or planned. There wasn’t an audience, but my answer was firmly on his side. 

I wasn’t sure if the timing was right to move to California, but I knew he was who I wanted to be with. Somehow, we’d make this work. 

What I didn’t know is that the “yes" to move to California would cause more immediate change than the “yes" I said to be his wife. 

When we were married, I moved. I kept the same job and lived the same life, except I was now married. The blessings of the sacrament of marriage are slow spilling for most of us. It wasn’t until I was pregnant with Lucy and we experienced the hardship of losing my husband’s close friend, Shawn Kuykendall, that I learned what grace in marriage meant.  

Then, soon after Shawn’s passing, we became parents of a breathing, screaming baby girl. Becoming a parent is a life event that you, sort of, fall into.

Lucy at El Segundo beach.

Life happens. We can say yes. We can say no. There will be consequences to every decision.  

I said yes, got on a plane and hours later, stepped out of the LAX airport into thick, warm air. It was humid in a polluted way. I saw two palm trees poking vertically above the plain building in front of me. It was my first breath of a Los Angeles street. 

I took a deep sigh. Today, was the first day of the rest of my life. Today, I was meeting my future. I felt like a new bride in a lot of ways. Everywhere I went, I was quick to explain that “I just moved here, all the way from Washington, DC!” I was lost in a whimsical way. People loved it, like admiring a young girl with a sparkly diamond. There’s a glow and excitement to someone new.

But the glitter of “new" fades, and then you just feel unforgivably lost. No matter the place, I was constantly arguing with my GPS. No matter the night, I woke feeling like I was in a hotel. I went to my midwife and the standard in Los Angeles is to test for HIV. I sullenly tested for HIV. Negative. I was scared of (harmless) homeless people. I saw an LAPD helicopter flying above my complex, hid in my apartment and locked the door. I always, always, always missed the turn to my parking garage.  

And I felt like I didn’t belong here. I kept it going, though, trying hard to work it out like a machine, do my job and mostly feeling like a failure. 

Then, one day, I drove to Trader Joe's without my GPS telling me where to go. I woke up to the familiar scent of lemon essential oil diffusing in my living room. My midwife called me by name and I called the homeless man on the street by name. I watched as an LAPD helicopter flew above me and I didn't wonder if we were in a state of emergency (the LAPD has the largest helicopter fleet, as far as US police departments go, and they always keep two in the sky). I turned into my parking garage without anxiously looking for the turn. 

And I walked through the door of our apartment and heard the words fall surely and easily from Lucy's brave little mouth,

"We're home!"

She sighed as she kicked off her shoes and climbed in her rocking chair, an upholstered charcoal rocker. It once sat in my master suite, made spacious for family living. Now, that rocker sits in my living room, sized for a bachelor, or a family, in Los Angeles.  

Lucy with a purple mermaid outside a beautiful home in Larchmont Village. 

I laughed at the sight, at the thought of her simplicity and joy, and my eyes welled with regretful tears.

You know that feeling; the one when you know you're failing as a parent. Then, your child comes to you full of wonder and mercy, and tells you something grand like, "Mommy, you're my favorite." 

That's what it felt like. 

All this time, I was sure I failed to create a home. I was pregnant and exhausted. There were boxes, empty walls, picture frames on the floor. The pantry was dysfunctional and mostly bare. Lucy had a small makeshift desk, the bottom half of a bookcase that didn’t survive the move. There were legos ... everywhere. 

It was all a mess that I was unwilling and too afraid to call my home. I was above it all. Too good for it, but she knew better. 

Meanwhile, she loved her little desk. She was settled, sure that this space was ours, content and cozy, and ready to give it all a try. 

I managed to smile and say, "That's right, you're home.” 

Lucy pretending to play piano at Erica's (of Be a Heart) home.

Pieces had fallen into a place of home. 

The joke was on me. For all this time of worrying and thinking that I knew it would be too hard to handle -- It was a moment, much like watching a new surfer catch a wave, messy and lacking balance.

But I was doing it. 

I was making a home in LA, not just visiting or vacationing. I was living here. The one thing I had anticipated for months, I was doing. Even though it didn't look at all like the California dream I had hoped for, it was real. It was ours. For Lucy, it was all quite successful. Then I saw, in plain sight, it was successful for me too.

Lilly and I at a home decor fabric shop in the fashion district, downtown Los Angeles. Photo cred: Erica

Pride is often faulty. But I'll tell you this: If you move 3,000 miles away from a life that took you 28 years to create, and you find yourself smiling on another overcast day during an El Niño spring, you go ahead and be proud of yourself. Take all the pride and breathe it in deep so you can feel it warm your scared-cold heart. 

And then exhale every last sticky string of it because this ain't over. 

Making a home in LA is a unique piece of my motherhood, as unique as my individual children. It's taught me a lot in the past 6 months; the biggest lesson, so far, was learning that I could do it. I could make her a home in a new, unfamiliar place. 

I look outside today. The sky is blue. My skin is tanned and we're debating whether we'll go to the pool or the beach after mass (No, we don't always spend time at the pool and beach, but I'm happy for the days that lead us there). I picked a sweet year of mercy to move to the beach, and mercy there will be. 

My younger sister, Simone, walking adjacent to Venice beach during her visit with us. 

Next week will be new and it will come with new challenges and new obstacles; battling the need to keep up with the east coast as well as make a life worth living here. My back will ache a new ache. The babes will cry new cries. Maybe it'll feel like home or maybe I'll feel exhausted from the unfamiliar. There’s a lot to learn. No matter the cause of frustration, depression or joy, I'm doing it.

I'm grateful for the courage of yes. 

"Trust and trust alone should lead us to love”

— Thérèse de Lisieux

Election Education: A Really Great Booklist

This is not a political post. It's a post about hope and change. And a future. It's a post about sitting with children and reading and talking and thinking. It's a post full of good books to inspire great conversations. It's a post about educating our children so that one day, they will nominate excellent candidates for president and then, they will go into voting booths and do great things for our country.

In the interest of full and honest disclosure, it's also a post with handy links to Amazon, for which I will be compensated if you purchase. And I will also be super grateful:-). 

This is a lengthy list, with something for everyone, even the grownups who are weary of the whole mess. 

Amelia Bedelia's First Vote

This is the Amelia Bedelia we know and love in her new picture book format, written by the original author's nephew. 

Letting an elementary school vote on school rules? It probably won’t end well, but the ever-literal Amelia Bedelia’s first foray into the democratic process is a clever way to engage kids in a discussion of the upcoming Presidential election. Kids will learn about absentee ballots, run-offs, and the power of persuasion. Some of the humor in this book will be lost on kids who are homeschooled, but I wouldn't miss the book, because...Amelia Bedelia. Who can resist Amelia Bedelia?

Vote for Me

I love the Amazon description of this one: Hey, you! Yes, you with the dazzling smile! The donkey wants your vote. So does the elephant. And each will do just about anything to win your support. Brag? Sure! Flatter? Absolutely! Exaggerate, name-call, make silly promises and generally act childish? Yes, yes, yes and yes. Soon, the tension mounts, and these two quarrelsome candidates resort to slinging mud (literally) and flinging insults. And what happens when the election results are in? Well, let's just say the donkey and the elephant are in for a little surprise --- and a certain bewhiskered, third-party candidate is in for a first term.

Vote for Me! is a timely satire of American politics, but it's a story readers of all nationalities and ages will recognize. Comical, retro illustrations (in shades of blue and red, of course) are completely winning, and the dueling duo's insult-laden exchanges promise to have readers laughing out loud.

Duck for President

It's far-fetched and a little more than a little ridiculous, but this one really works to entertain both the reader and the listener. The author and illustrator are an award-winning team. It's all here: baby kissing, diners, lots of coffee and lots of recounts. You can watch this one read aloud here. 

So You want to be President

Note: This is an updated version of the 2001 Caldecott classic, but it isn't current enough to include Barack Obama. Still, this gem is a trivia-loving kid's dream. From the Amazon review: The basic theme is that anyone can be president: a fat man (William Howard Taft) or a tiny man (James Madison), a relative youngster (Teddy Roosevelt at 42) or oldster (Ronald Reagan at 69). Presidential hobbies, sports, virtues, and vices all get a tongue-in-cheek airing, perfectly matched by Small's political-cartoon style of caricature painting. It's fun, but the underlying purpose is clearly serious: to remind kids that the American presidents have been a motley group of individuals, not a row of marble busts. Ironically, that message makes the presidency far more interesting (and appealing) than it seems in some of the more traditional books. There's a factual addendum at the back giving all the dates and names, with a one-line bio for each past-president. 

The Ballot Box Battle

This election is an historic one. A woman is at the top of a major party's ticket. No matter what you think of that woman (and really, I just don't want to know what you think), this is a good time to stop and reflect with our kids about women and voting in our country. This story is light, but makes its point. From School library Journal: History, the subtle and not-so-subtle oppression of women, and the redoubtable character of Elizabeth Cady Stanton are made real and alive in this colorfully illustrated story set in the summer of 1880. Cordelia loves to ride on Mrs. Stanton's old horse and hear the stories of her neighbor's own girlhood. Despite her efforts to ride and excel in Greek, young Elizabeth's only praise was to hear "Oh, my daughter, you should have been a boy!" Cordelia's brother puts her down in the same way when he makes fun of her desire to prove herself a courageous rider. On election day, the children accompany Mrs. Stanton on her yearly attempt to cast a vote in the local contests. Seeing her friend's courage in facing the taunts and scorn of the men gathered at the polls, and angry at the teasing of the local boys, Cordelia makes her own protest by taking the old horse over a four-foot fence in a daring and dangerous leap forward. McCully's richly hued, softly textured paintings beautifully evoke the late 19th-century era and the small-town world of Tenafly, NJ, where the widowed Stanton spent her last years. Skillfully weaving fact and story, The Ballot Box Battle offers a history lesson pleasingly framed in a story about an independent young girl. A full-page author's note gives further information on Stanton and on the creation of the book.

See How They Run

This book reminds me of Schoolhouse Rock. It covers a lot of academic ground, but retains its entertainment value throughout. It's one that eight-  or nine-year-olds can read on their own, but why not put it in the hands of a 13-year-old and ask him to reader it to younger siblings? He'll learn a lot in the process. The Washington Post writes: “Anyone who needs a clear explanation of how a candidate can get the most popular votes and still lose the election should read See How They Run. (Did you know that Thomas Jefferson thought that the electoral college was "the most dangerous blot on our Constitution"?) Susan Goodman examines American democracy and political campaigns from 1789 to the groundbreaking Democratic primaries between Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama. Goodman includes the formation of political parties and contemporary voting issues, touching on difficult subjects such as election shenanigans, negative campaigning and voter fraud. The book's archival photos from the Library of Congress, humorous cartoons and informative sidebars hold the reader's attention. In one sidebar called "Getting Better All the Time," the author observes that our democracy isn't perfect, but progressive: "Good News: The United States was the first modern democracy with an elected government protecting the freedom and rights of its citizens. The Bad News: In the beginning, only white men who owned land could vote.”  As with almost every current election-themed book, there are political biases. These are talking points. Read with your kids and talk about them. It's a jungle out there, folks, and before you can blink, they'll be voting. These conversations need to happen early and often in order to educate the electorate. Because, you know, if you have an electorate that can be swayed by reality TV and internet spin, you might end up with two candidates very few people really want for President. We can do better. The future is now. Read, talk, read, and then talk some more.  

The Day Gogo Went to Vote

Sometimes, we take for granted how easy it is to go to the local elementary school and cast a ballot. Sometimes. This year, more than one person in my household who is old enough to vote is mournfully contemplating not voting for president. Much conscience wrestling is happening. This is not voter apathy; it's voter torment. Still, everyone of voting age will go vote, even if to vote down ballot. We'll walk the block to the very safe school and we'll smile at our neighbors. We'll take our young children with us. It's what we do, every year. 

This book offers our very comfortable children a look at voting somewhere else.  Historical, but still within the lifetime of our generation of children, this is the story of young Thembi, a girl who accompanies her 100-year-old great-grandmother to the polling place in the first all-race elections in South Africa. Infirm and housebound, Gogo is determined to vote and does so with a little help from her community. Truly sobering.
 

Revolution

This is a book that will forever burn into the heart of a child just how precious is the right to vote. Not set a world away like the book above, this one is set in Mississippi. Told with four voices, it's a bit of a challenging read, well worth it for middle years readers. The first voice is Sunny, a 12-year-old white girl, and the second is of Ray, a 16-year-old black boy. They live in Greenwood, Mississippi in the summer of 1964. This is a well-craftedmultidimensional picture of a deep south town during Freedom Summer.

Sunny becomes increasingly aware injustices towards African Americans in her town. She also begins to the violence on the part of the police. At the same time, Ray is learning just how unfair Jim Crow laws are and he is agitated and impatient to see if the Civil Rights Act of 1964 will be enforced immediately after it is signed.

In his part of the story, Ray chafes at the lack of equality in the Jim Crow South. For him, the civil rights workers are moving too slowly. He pushes to see if the Civil Rights Act of 1964 will be enforced in Mississippi almost as soon as it has been signed.

The last episode of the book is as predictable as it is horrifying. this is literature that will stick with the reader. 

I have two readers for whom I want this book to be the literature core for October. Both of them are reluctant/struggling readers. This book is a good one for an Audible choice. It's read in four voices and it will bear some of the reading challenge, letting this listener pay attention to plot and characters instead of struggling with form. 

Presidential Elections: And Other Cool Facts, 
If you're looking for one volume of lots of facts to use as a spine for teaching all about elections, this is it. Also, this one is very current. It's a fully up-to-date book full of interesting information for middle years kids. Especially noteworthy: here's an excellent explanation of the electoral college. 

First Mothers

They say that the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world. That is especially true in the case of the women of this book. Surely, I'm not the only one who is intrigued about the mothers who raised presidents. all of the presidents are represented here and each woman's story is told, even if only a little is known about her. Watercolor and pencil illustrations make for satisfying lingering over pictures. I really kind of love this one.

Election! A kid's guide to picking our president

This is another book full of facts and information. It's a practical, well researched, up-to-date guide to elections for kids (and grownups, too). Dan Gutman is a reliable resource for civics education and there are lots of discussion prompting pints here. The book is written in Q & A format and covers 120 questions kids ask about elections. It's quite thorough.

White House Kids: The Perks, Pleasures, Problems, and Pratfalls of the Presidents' Children

 We live close enough to Washington, DC that my children walk past the White House every now and then when we visit the city. And every single time, someone says, "Can you imagine playing family soccer on the White House lawn?" Then we have a long conversation about what it would be like to live in the White House. This book "has highlighted some of the mischief, the mysteries, and the mayhem the White House kids have been a part of while living in the nation’s capitol. The book design is inviting with sidebars, fact boxes, illustrations, and photographs. Connect this book to the website First Kids which also has lesson ideas. "

Two for you: 

Mama, are you tired of this election cycle? Weary with general ugliness of it all? How about Dana Perino's And The Good News Is: Lessons from the Bright Side, just for a cheerful change of pace.

And then, there's Peggy Noonan, whom I really adore. This one is a breath of fresh air in the current climate: When Character Was King. Imagine that. Character was king.

There are more books, links, and ideas in this post, from 2008

These are the resources from that post that are still current, but you might also want to look at comments there.

D is for Democracy
Woodrow for President

D is for Democracy comes with an entire free unit study here.

A rockin' trip down Memory Lane for Mom and Dad and some seriously catchy jingles for a whole new generation of future voters: Schoolhouse Rock Election Edition DVD. This comes with a map and stickers for election night.

Here are plenty of sites from which to glean ideas:

• Ben's Guide to U.S. Government for Kids
    • Congress for Kids
    • Constitution Center
    • Kaboose
    • First Gov for Kids
    • NationalArchives
      • National Museum of American History
        • PBS for Kids

Closed, Healing in Progress

I have quite a lot to catch you up on. There was a move, a baby and a lot of growing pains. For now, we're going to talk about a single hike, on hot summer day. 

During the end of the calendar's summer season {I'm quickly learning that Southern California's summer season never ends}, we went on a hike in Malibu Creek State Park, a little drive down the Pacific Coast Highway {PCH}. For those unfamiliar with the California coast, the PCH is a scenic route, winding adjacent the Pacific Ocean. It’s beginning to be one of my favorite parts of the weekend for our family. This park in Malibu is gigantic and on the day we chose to do our family hike, a 25k finish line was at the top of the parking lot where we chose to park. My heart ached as I watched runners cross the finish line. I’m hardly in the shape I used to be, and I miss the feeling of running without a lot of baby-related heaviness. 

My goal for the summer was to get back on my feet, enough to keep up with my family. I’ve been walking out my muscles, trying to remind them that they exist and that they are capable. My goal very simple: to not be the reason for going home. I didn’t want to be the first one to quit, the mom who was tired and ready for a break. 

We began our hike, not knowing exactly where we were going or where the end was for us. Just exploring. This is nice about hiking: you can always turn around. Michael and I are not serious hikers. We could be one day, but we keep the hike relaxed since we have two small children with us. 

As we walked, I kept seeing small, but steep, hiker-made trails. Little trails where hikers wandered off the main trails. Each with a sign at the base the little trail.

The signs all read the same: Closed, Healing in Progress.

The words stayed with me as we hiked. 

Early Postpartum, I'm mindful of keeping my life simple. I focus on simple things like sleep, very gentle exercise, feeding my family and the milestones in my children's growth. Then, I get comfortable and greedy for a more ideal looking life. I start hitting other trails. I wander away from simplicity. Sometimes there's a shortcut, a fast-track to contentment, a bunch of "stuff" to buy. The trail leads to a pool or a fun play spot, a group of moms with ideals and values that look tasteful. Add it to the map, the list of trails to take, and soon it becomes a necessity. I need it. Next week we find a bird’s nest, a coffee shop, a new distraction or hobby. These little trails all take us somewhere new and exciting and I want to keep track of them. All of them. 

Add it to the hike that is my life. 

Suddenly, the sun is setting and I’m stuck in the middle of trails leading to nowhere. I can see the mountain we were supposed to climb today, the simple one, but I can’t find my way back to the main trail. I’m out of time and I’m lost. My kids are hungry and I feel panic setting in. The golden grass is smashed beneath my careless feet. I don't even know which way to go anymore, which way is home. 

Four months postpartum is a forgotten mama, even forgotten by herself. This time is hard. It’s too far past the 6 weeks of postpartum, when I was supposed to get my life buttoned up and tucked away. Four months is growth spurts, teething, sleep regression and separation anxiety. It’s a lot of tired body aches. It’s a lot of my-hair-is-falling-out and my weight-loss has plateaued. Some days are so great and some days are too much. 

And it’s not easy to see the grace that was holding me together a few months ago.

This is the perfect time to close the trails and stay on the main trail, the familiar. Take in and study the mountains, watch the hawks fly by and not worry about where they are headed. It’s time to heal again. It’s time to turn to God, and His grace, and be courageous enough to be grateful for this single trail, and just this trail. Because this trail is enough. 

Sometimes, we don’t have to bounce back; sometimes it’s okay for an event to shake us and change us forever.

Motherhood is one those events. Motherhood is supposed to change us, constantly.  

And I need to stop trying to bounce back, I need to let true healing take place. Growth is an ongoing cycle of breaking down muscle and building it back up and I never want to rest when I'm growing. I want results.

So I slow down the glutton in me that wants to conquer this mountain and know all it has to offer and I'll take up this shady tree for now. Taking in my surroundings piece by piece, leaf by leaf, speck by speck. 

 This beautiful view will change too soon. It is only temporary. 

On that day, as we stayed on the slow and steady pace of the main trail up that hill, I made it to the top. I looked around and admired the beauty with my family, drank my water quietly and gratefully {and a bit proud}, and crawled back down. We went a little ways further down the trails when we decided that the kids needed to head home for naps. I passed Lillian to Michael and was happy to put Lucy on my back.

Then, we followed the steady trail back to a place of rest and healing, my back tired and my heart full. 

Here I Am

Sometimes, when I stop to think of how different life at home with children is today than it was twenty years ago, I'm utterly astounded. And sometimes, I wish there had been social media back then. I wish I'd had Instagram, because if I had, my baby pictures and little boy soccer pictures would be organized and preserved chronologically instead of in boxes on shelves in my basement. I wish I'd had online Bible studies because I would have discovered the joy of Bible journaling so much sooner. I wish there had been recipe apps because my cookbooks wouldn't all be splattered with decades old pasta sauce.

Mostly, though, I'm eternally grateful for the long afternoons I spent walking to the park and back, never once distracted by a screen. Instead, a friend walked beside me and we talked real words, back and forth, for hours sometimes. I'm grateful for naptimes spent mopping the floor with oil soap and watching bread rise. I'm also grateful for naptimes spent napping with my children, the chatterless afternoon lulling me to sleep. There was no temptation to just keep mindlessly scrolling, and I'm grateful for that. I'm grateful for the quiet and the blessing of growing into motherhood in relative private, away from so many opinions and comparisons. 

I'm not a giant fan of the internet.

But I love this space. I love to write, to play with pictures, to dream in narrative, to throw carefully chosen words into the wind and pray that they land in the right hearts. It's a little bit scary.

But mostly I love it.

We've had a rough few years here in my home. Much refining in fire. Now, it's time to retreat to this place (can you retreat to a very public place?), and settle into loving this creative niche again with my soul and my fingers. It's time to spend hours outdoors moving and breathing, and then to come inside and write so the words have a place to be.

Let's blog.