Amy Writes

"Eden, how did your song go? Did you sing it for the whole class?" "Yep," she said, and continued coloring. "Well? Did they like it?" The crayon moved furiously over the paper as the response tumbled out of the unimpressed lips of a five-year-old. "Yep. I got two stars." "TWO STARS?" Stars are given for the kids to wear when they show good displays of certain attitudes. Commitment, Appreciation, Curiosity, etc. "Which two?" I questioned. (Is evangelism a star?) Down goes the crayon, up comes the face from the paper. "I got Creativity, because I wrote a song. And I got Confidence, because I wasn't afraid to sing it in front of the whole class." So that's the answer to the question: "How will a public school kindergarten teacher respond to a student singing a song about God's love in class?" She responds perfectly.

This morning, Eden spent her breakfast time dutifully writing. Writing, writing, writing. Several times I had to ask her to put down her pen and pick up her waffle. By the time we whisked her away from the table and into the car, she was rehearsing that which she'd been working so hard on. It was a song she'd written to sing to her (public school) class. The words: God, God is good God, God is so good He loves me and He loves you God, God is good (or something like that) She rehearsed in the driveway. She rehearsed in the car. She hopped out of the car and showed the lyrics to the crossing guard - while I prayed. I prayed for her to never lose her innocence or her boldness. I prayed for her teacher not to make a big deal out of her "preaching" or squash her little ambitions. I prayed that her little heart would never be hardened by kids who laugh or authority figures who try to silence her. I prayed that we'd be worthy parents to this awesome little kid.

I meant to type "Thankful" as the title, but I quite like "Thankfun," and so I'm leaving it. Photoqueen has been faithfully blogging away her Thankful little heart this month, and her posts have been so inspiring and fun! Each of her posts has been something relevant, causing me to pause, reflect and wish I had the time & motivation to write as thoroughly and thankfully as she's been doing. So go read Photo's month of Thanksgiving and see if it doesn't warm you up a bit.

It's been an interesting few weeks in the world of alternative, or, as some know it, "public" schooling. First, we are the proud parents of the Student of the Month. Woohoo! It took some time and investigative skill to learn what this actually meant - since we found out about it by the fancy laminated certificate signed by the principal that quietly came home in the school folder. Turns out, there was an actual assembly where the students of the month were recognized in front of the whole school (we weren't there but we were supposed to get a letter about it but we didn't) and it's given out to two students per class, PER QUARTER. AND, it's based on character, not academics, which pretty much rocks, and means we all went to Cracker Barrel to celebrate our student-of-the-month-actually-quarter. Second, the student-of-the-month-actually-quarter has a "best friend." She bounded into the car one day brandishing a note from said best friend's mom.

I am still sick. I have now reached the point in sickness where people are asking if I've been to the doctor (no) and telling me they're praying for me. Tonight I actually heard from someone who had been asked by someone else to pray for me. I feel a little like Ferris Bueller. I have been offered cough drops by strangers, asked if I still have my tonsils, heard the word "Mucinex" a dozen times and actually tried a Neti Pot . (Interesting experience, thanks to the facebook friends who suggested that .) As I type this, I am coughing. Case in point: Matt just said: "Hon, I am going to take the day off tomorrow and TAKE you to the doctor." The thing is, I know the cold will go away. I don't know that my doctor will go away. We've seen what happens when I stop in there for a visit. I just need a doctor friend. Anyone out there willing to write me a Z-pack?

On Monday, I made oatmeal. This is not ground breaking, per se, unless you are familiar with my affinity for oatmeal. Take me out to breakfast, walk me past a brunch buffet, and nine times out of ten I will forego the made to order omelets or gourmet stuffed french toast for a huge bowl of sticky industrial strength Irish famine oatmeal. Some people get excited about elaborate midnight buffets or lobster nights on a cruise...I look forward to the oatmeal. My love affair with porridge began when one of my mom's best friends (I didn't have aunts nearby, I had mom's best friends) introduced me to restaurant oatmeal in late elementary school. We'd order our bowls together and hide behind the carafe of coffee, spooning teaspoon after teaspoon of brown sugar into it like partners in crime. She passed away several years ago, but every time I fill a bowl I am reminded of her sweet friendship and this indulgence we shared so many times. Until Monday, at home, I have always settl

As the last two weeks have flown by, I have thought at least 143 times: "I should blog about this. Or that." This amounts to at least 143 blog ideas floating around in my head, none of which have made their way into print. 143 rogue blog ideas makes for kind of a mess, and, like housework, the more behind I get, the less motivated I am to get started. So I'm going to make some room up there by mini-blogging. First mini-blog became kind of long, so it looks like they're going to become a series.

This is Day 9 or 10 of the yuck. I'm sad to report that I don't feel much better today than I did on Days 2 or 3. It's killing my productivity by sapping my motivation by draining my energy by wearing out my nose, chest, head... I've had a few sick realizations though: 1. When nothing else sounds good and there is no position in which I am comfortable, Gone With The Wind provides solace and distraction. 2. Tissues made from recycled material are a noble idea and great value, until you have to use 137 of them per day. Then they are sandpaper. 3. Persistent coughing attacks WILL wait for the most inappropriate moments to happen. For me this week: corporate prayer time, Bible study lecture time. 4. Cleaning house is satisfying, but does not usher the germs out of the house. At least not the ones holding on to my trachea for dear life. 5. No matter how much I understand, having people take a step back from me when they discover I'm "infectious" still stings ju

Billy Joel is coming. In concert. Here, to South Florida. I've made up my mind. I'm not going. Don't go trying to get me tickets behind my back, either, because I'll sell them. It's a money thing. There are people who need my money more than Billy does. At least I assume there are. I haven't checked Billy's balance sheet to be sure. So, on Friday, January 2, I will not be at the Billy Joel concert here in South Florida. Nor will I be at one of the overflow shows they open up when that one sells out. Tickets go on sale on Saturday. I will not be buying one. There, I've said it.

On the car ride home from school today, my five-year-old asked who we're voting for tomorrow. "We're voting for John McCain." "John McCain?" came the response, followed by the inevitable, "Why are we voting for John McCain?" Pause. How do you explain to a five-year-old parrot who is spending the majority of her days in the opponent's camp why you're choosing the other guy? Vague. Be Vague is what I decided. "Well, sweetie, we believe that John McCain's principles are what's best for America." Of course: "Principals?" Should have seen that one coming. "No, not like school principals. Principles." "OH. What are principles?" Ugh. "Principles are like beliefs." I'm not kidding: "What are beliefs?" "Beliefs are ... like ... things you believe in." Parental eloquence at its best, folks. "Oh. Like what?" Lord, have mercy! Where do I start? What would she

One of the most valuable, or at least memorable, pieces of information I learned in college were just four letters: ENFJ. My coolest professor (the only one to stand on the first day of class and profess his faith) in one of my coolest classes (called "Lewis & Tolkien," but really was a survey of all the Inklings) administered the Myers-Briggs Personality Test for reasons unknown, other than his own curiosity about the kids who would choose to take his class. I learned that semester that I am an ENFJ - with extroverted, intuitive, feeling and judging being my dominant characteristics. As interesting as it is to take the test and read someone's interpretations of your answers, it's fascinating when it's a correct diagnosis. It sure does explain a lot. For example: I have ideas. LOTS of ideas. Better or more efficient ways to do things, crazy things to try, big fun parties or festivals to host, thoughtful discussions in which to purposefully engage. And usually