“Children should read books, not about books and about authors; this sort of reading may be left for the spare hours of the dilettante. Their reading should be carefully ordered, for the most part in historical sequence; they should read to know, whether it be Robinson Crusoe or Huxley’s Physiography; their knowledge should be tested, not by questions, but by the oral (and occasionally the written) reproduction of a passage after one reading; all further processes that we concern ourselves about in teaching, the mind performs for itself; and, lastly, this sort of reading should be the chief business in the class room.”
Thinking on this one.
The Christmas colors have begun to show up in the leaves.
We’re still at the start of November inside.
Uncle Glenn came over for breakfast this morning. He’d taken a trip to Washington D.C. and wanted to come and show us his pictures. I like these excuses to have people over. Autumn brings out my hospitality bug. Something about the cooler weather and holiday decor makes me want to cook and gather with loved ones.
I told the boys to go outside and play with Tom while I was working.
I felt a little off-centered by the time of afternoon. It was as if for about an hour, I lost all parts of my cognitive skill. My thoughts were impaired and I didn’t know what it was I had to do next. There were too many things and not enough capacity.
I didn’t lose my mind. I didn’t lose my temper. I just lost my sense of direction for a moment. I gathered up clothes and started some laundry. The kids cleaned the kitchen and went outside again to play. I took a walk down the road and I cried on the phone. I went back inside again. I printed off the sheets for practicing piano.
We didn’t do our New England state study today.
Nobody did math.
I didn’t read to the boys.
But yesterday we did.
I know today will count for something.
I’ve never forgotten the beauty of this place. I was content as a bug in a rug in St. Louis, when we lived on campus and could walk through “the woods”, but when I’d remember the seminary in Fort Wayne, Indiana, when that time full with child we were there for a wedding, I’d think to myself, in a blink, on a whim
“Boy, it sure was beautiful there.”
It still is. I was there for a conference and to visit a friend. It’s been almost three years ago now when she moved, and we’ve seen each other a handful of times since then. When she sent me the link to the large home small group retreat on “Mother Culture”, she thought this was just another one of our dreams, but it seemed like the perfect opportunity to go. So we planned a weekend and to Fort Wayne I went.
Thank you, Lord, for this beautiful time.
I just feel thankful and still and filled up.
And there go the jealous skies again.