This Rabbit Trail is Sprinkled with Fairy Dust!

A funny thing happened during the first week back to a school year rhythm. In the absence of firm plans and without the books we thought were coming, a bigtime rabbit trail was born. Mary Beth's plans from Oak Meadow were delayed, so she set about to find some copywork in A Journey Through Time. She was happy to find some delightful flower fairy poems from Cicely Mary Barker. She read the poems and chose one to copy and then drew a picture to accompany it.She decided she was going to work her way through all the fairy poems in the book. It just so happened that I was hanging out at amazon.com at the time and I just so happened to one-click this book.

Later that day, I read Christopher's Harvest Time aloud to a whole gang of my children. And I totally fell in love. This is right there near the top of my "favorite books of all time" list. The pictures are clear and lovely and the characters delightful. Every single child was taken with this book. Katie just loved that the boy fairy was named "September" because when you are about to turn five and  your birthday is in September, any fairy named September is a friend of yours. Stephen and Nicholas followed Christopher's adventures utterly enraptured and were sorry to see them end. And Mary Beth was very happy to find still more botanical fairies rendered in a different artist's pictures.  More botanical fairies...hmmm...

I tried to nudge Nicholas towards the drawings I'd done to go with the alphabet quest story from Christopherus' First Grade Syllabus. He wanted nothing to do with them--or the story. He'd heard me tell Katie and Gracie that it was "B" week and he'd heard a "B" themed fairy tale to go with their picture. Mr. Order dug in his heels and insisted that "B" was fine for him, too, since he could not possibly start with K, P, Q, and W (the letters I'd chosen to present). Oh, and by the way, he said, he already knows his letters and how to read and he found a coloring a book leftover from last year's fairy study and the "B"  page just so happened to be yet uncolored. He spent the rest of the day copying that "B" fairy and recreating scenes from Christopher's story in his main lesson book.

The hours I'd spent at Google Calendar trying to get too many good ideas to form a coherent plan were rising to haunt me now. Why do I do this every year? Why do I think and think and think (though this year I didn't write intricate plans, I definitely thought them) and then dissolve into something altogether different than I'd thought it would be?

Because I listen to my children. And this year, they were hearing fairies.

They took up the beeswax and created Children of the Forest. They built more fairy houses in the backyard.They began to fashion felt folk who looked a lot like Woody, Hazel and Little Pip.
Soon, we decided to begin our days with "September" from Around the Year and recite it often enough to memorize it. They gathered acorns at  Patrick's soccer game, all the while talking about the  Acorn Fairy as if she were a familiar friend.

By now, enthusiasm was bubbling up and spilling over. Mary Beth was sharing her fairy-fondness with her friends  and I was telling their mom all about my plans gone awry. Katherine had a little fairy dust in her pocket too and suddenly we were obsessed.

I found myself ordering botany nomenclature cards to go with my botanical fairies. I ordered a refill for my Klutz fairy-making book. We dusted off Fairy Houses and watched the video version as well. (Incidentally, the video was shot in New Zealand and we all know there are definitely fairies in New Zealand;-) I found fairies to teach us how to knit. My friend Rebecca assured me they would probably prefer knitting needles like these.

Did you know that Frederick Warne published Cicely Mary Barker's books, too? And she has a website as lovely as Beatrix Potter's.  When you are there, you can learn the fairy code and write letters to friends in Texas. And those of us who love Beatrix Potter's Journal are equally delighted with Fairyopolis (same sized book, same idea--they're brilliant, those Warne boys;-) Those botany cards will work perfectly with the fairy finder. Type in your favorite fairy and learn its song, some folklore, and some botanical facts and some planting indications--that's if you can tear your eyes away from the whimsical pictures.  Shhh...don't tell the children, but there's an awful lot to learn here.

(Oh, and what about the Christopherus syllabi and those from Oak Meadow? It's all good. I've learned so much and we will use it all in one form or fashion.The greatest lesson I learned is that big families can't do "Waldorf at Home" the same way smaller families can, nor can they replicate "Waldorf at school." And I'm not a Waldorf purist anyway, just like I'm not a Charlotte Mason purist.  But that's the stuff of future posts. Right now, I have a fairy house to tend)

While I appreciate the beauty, the materials and some of the methods of Waldorf education, I am not a follower of Rudolf Steiner, his educational philosophy, or his religion. I am a practicing Catholic who is very clear in teaching the faith to her children. Please see this post for any further explanation of incorporating methods or materials that might also appear in Waldorf schools into your home. Take inspiration from what is good and what in in harmony with the true faith and leave the rest. If you can't discern, then leave it all alone.

On Beauty

This summer, we traveled to the beach. We went to visit my mother and my aunt. They both live in a beachside community. You are picturing a house on stilts by the shore. I am going to paint a different picture. Both of them live in year 'round homes which are not at all the "roughin' it at the beach" type of houses. Instead, they are beautifully decorated showplaces which are hung with amazing art. Both homes are veritable feasts for the eyes.

We stayed primarily in my mother's home because, of the two, it was far more appropriate for small children. My aunt's home is a museum. Literally. The very house is equipped with serious hurricane protection, blackout blinds, and a security system that rivals a fine art gallery. That's because it is a fine art gallery. My aunt collects art. Not long ago, much of the art in her home hung in a museum. Now, it is in a beautiful house on the water.

One Sunday afternoon, as a thunderstorm brewed, we were driven up from the sand and surf and into my aunt's house. There, my children of all ages, in their swimsuits, walked from room to room and stood in awe of fine American art. I showed them my favorite, an 1895 Theodore Robinson painting called Washing Day. We searched in vain for my husband's favorite, William Harnett's Table Still Life (I think it's in New York), and then we stepped back and let the children fall in love with their own favorites. Stephen was smitten by the Portrait of a Girl with the Red Shawl, a Robert Henri painting that my aunt purchased for my uncle's sixtieth birthday. As the children gazed, Aunt Diane told the stories of the paintings. It was, beyond the shadow of a doubt, a most glorious and memorable art history course, all on a Sunday afternoon.

Mary Beth sat up on my aunt's bed and just took a tour around the room. Aunt Diane told her about Sunlight and Snow and how the woman who lived in the house from which Richard Miller painted the picture, found old canvases separating the compartments of the boot box in the mudroom and found even more discarded canvases in the attic.

She pointed out the patch on N. C. Wyeth's The Faded Tablecloth and explained that it had once been a window, by Wyeth didn't like that light in his studio so he closed it up. When he set to paint the still life, he painted it true to life, complete with the patched wall. From Wyeth,  they let their eyes wander to a Whistler etching and Aunt Diane explained to Mary Beth how etchings are created.

Around the room they went, and my little girl listened, enraptured to one fascinating "backstory" after another. As I took it all in, I recognized that the "backstory" isn't incidental, it's germane. One doesn't have to know the story to love the painting, but the stories do help make the painting come alive in a special way.

Left to wander and to wonder, my children truly could not get enough of the visual feast. I watched as the air conditioned chilliness took hold of the damp bathing suits and teeth started to chatter and lips began to turn blue. A six-year-old boy stood in rapt wonder with his four-year-old sister in front of a statue of a a dancing girl. I could barely pry Stephen away from the Girl in the Red Shawl. I wish I could take credit for this sophisticated appreciation of art. I cannot. Truly, the environment captured their hearts and their imagination.

It did my heart good to see them so enraptured and to watch their relationship with my aunt blossom so beautifully. Her passion shone through everything she said and did with them and they began to understand that this world was a part of their world, too. They were also getting to know my uncle, who died five years ago. American art was his passion and his passion is being passed to his nieces and nephews. At the end of the afternoon, after hours of contemplation, Mary Beth led my aunt into the office. "That," she said "is my favorite of all." She was pointing to a large painting behind the desk. My aunt pulled Mary Beth close in a hug. "That was uncle Tom's favorite, too."

When we went back to my mother's house, they paid close attention to the art hung on the walls there.  They noticed some fine American art. They also noticed paintings created by my mother's other sister and by Aunt Diane herself. A growing appreciation for visual art was taking hold.

On our last night at the beach, my mother encouraged my husband and I to go out to dinner at a nice restaurant and have a proper "date." Without thinking twice, we carried out from a nearby Italian bistro and ate on the balcony facing the sea at my aunt's house. She had returned to New York for a buying trip and we had the place to ourselves. After dinner, we wandered from room to room and drank in the art. We remembered that after our wedding, twenty years ago, we had no money and strict mandate to return to work bright and early Monday morning. We spent Sunday at the National Gallery of Art. Art was our honeymoon. We bought two prints that day and had them framed for our home. True, the weren't "real, live originals" as Stephen has become fond of saying, but they were beautiful.  We committed to continue to pursue the family passion in our own new family.

In the days following our beach vacation (I'm not calling it a trip anymore--isn't it amazing how little time it takes to gild a memory?), I thought often about how beauty in our environment affects our lives. Our lofty plans to have a home filled with beauty had been a bit derailed. In truth, there were paintings stacked in a storage room in the basement that I'd never gotten around to hanging. As we added children, beauty gave way to practicality and things became a bit more--um--utilitarian with every birth. I didn't have the time to do much about my thoughts.  We turned right around five days after the Florida vacation and drove to Long Island for a family reunion to celebrate my great Aunt Ida's ninetieth birthday.

We stayed in a very blessed cottage. To say that this cottage took my breath away upon entering is not to exaggerate. It was truly beautiful. The walls were painted a delightful green and huge windows let in the light filtered only by the splendid trees outside.  Skylights brought the beautiful blue sky into the rooms below. It looked as if Miss Lavender of Avonlea had bumped into Beatrix Potter amongst the trees and flowers (and many bunnies) outside and they had conspired together to design a place of beauty and grace.

On the walls were murals of soaring trees with puffy pink flowers, birds, and bees and butterflies. Karoline kept trying to pick the flowers that "grew" along the baseboard. I was inspired once again by the beauty of my surroundings. On the morning of the birthday party, I wrapped a present for my Aunt Ida. It was two framed collages of portraits of my children. I mused about how fitting it was that these were pictures to hang on the wall. Truly , they represented the "art" of my life. I hadn't wrapped the pictures at home because I didn't want them to get bumped and ripped in the van. So, I wrapped them there. And I got a bit carried away in the creativity of it all. I had brought a few things from home with which to embellish packages and I threw myself into the task at hand with  great gusto. My husband watched with a bemused smile. "It's in your genes, isn't it?" he asked.

I don't know that it was genetic at all. I think I was more inspired by the spirit of the cottage and I was prodded along in creating beauty by the beauty of the place itself. And it got me thinking about home again.

When we returned home, we discovered that the basement had flooded. I was literally being forced to re-think environment from the bottom of this house to the top. I began to dig out of the basement and re-create the space with beauty in mind. My house needs to be efficient but it doesn't need to be devoid of beauty. And, as so often in my life, as I worked, I thought about my children and education. The work of my hands reflected my new attitude. My educational plans need to be efficient and full of beauty. Beauty is useful. It has a very useful function. It inspires and soothes and ministers. I wonder at why someone would eschew art. A life without art is sure to become cynical and devoid of joy.

So, with a very soggy basement and a house in need of sprucing up, I was left to do all my planning for the coming year in my head as I mopped and de-cluttered and hung pictures and repainted. And you can bet that  all that planning, which has yet to be committed to paper or computer memory, is rooted in the good, the true, and the beautiful.

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An Utterly Lovely Rabbit Trail

On the second night in Denver, after the busyness of a full day of the conference, my sweet husband and I snuggled up in bed with his laptop. He had stashed a movie with which to surprise me. It was a movie he'd seen on an airplane a few months ago. I remember him coming home and declaring that he'd just seen the most perfect movie for me. My children all found this quite amusing since I don't like movies. It is unimportant why I don't like movies--and I'm not quite sure I've figured it out--but my definite bias against movies made his claim to have found the "perfect" movie all the more preposterous.

But this was the man--the traveling man--who had just taken time off from work to get back on an airplane and travel across the country with a baby so that he could stand in a vendor hall and hold the baby while he watched me talk to one woman after another. The least I could do was act like I wanted to watch a movie. And so I did. I sat right next to him while he fired up that computer and I acted like I loved that movie. For the first three seconds. Then I was mesmerized. Hooked. Drawn into the story. And smiling. I smiled through the whole movie until we got to the sad part. Then I cried. And then I found myself smiling again when the protagonist did. Oh, what a perfectly lovely movie! Oh, how I wish I could roam the Lake District and come home to a farmhouse and paint darling pictures to which I could put timeless prose....

Oh, how I adore Miss Potter!

I loved Beatrix Potter before the movie. I loved her art, her delightful turn of phrase, her obvious respect for children. I'd read biographies and played with websites and even done an extensive unit study that was written with Melissa Wiley. But this movie inspired something different altogether. The movie inspired me.  I wanted to develop an adult relationship with Miss Potter. I went to sleep that night and dreamed in watercolor.

(Note: I wanted to give you an  link to the complete set of the little books, the way that Miss Potter insisted they be published, but they are unavailable at amazon.com or at Barnes and Noble. Here is a complete set in a single volume, but that seems a bit heretical.)

When I returned home, I was eager to share the movie with my children. The bigger boys snickered a bit as I settle to watch it with the littles, but I noticed that none of them left the room. Perhaps they were just so surprised to see me sit for an entire movie...

And as soon as it was over, Nicholas headed up the back stairs.

"Where are you going, Nickle-pie?"

"I have to write a story about animals and I have to paint pictures to go with it and I have to have it made into real books. And I have to start now!"

That's my boy!

The conversation had begun. One by one, children asked at different times for more of the story of Miss Potter. How much land did she end up buying? Did she have children? How many books has she sold? Who makes decisions about her books now?

We were delighted to extend our movie experience with a gem of a journal. Beatrix Potter: A Journal is a heavy, substantial book with period writing taken from Beatrix Potter's own diaries and journals. There are photographs and sketches and watercolors and scrapbook memorabilia all beautifully bound into a lovely hard book. It's perfect for perusing, setting aside, and coming back to again and again. My children have spent hours with this book. It's the ideal book for strewing casually on the living room table right after the movie has been watched.

Since this is my rabbit trail and I have this intense need to know, I'm deep into Beatrix Potter: A Life in Nature and I'm already sure that Miss Potter will have a profound impact on my approach to education once again. The book captures Beatrix Potter the author and illustrator and the naturalist and conservationist. She had a passion for a place and she was a close observer and a gifted recorder. That is what I want for my children: passion, attention, and the careful stewardship of their gifts. Why, Beatrix Potter is a curriculum;-)!

My friend Leah, who is an extraordinary librarian (I highly recommend that everyone should have a dear friend who happens to be a librarian), recommended to me the The Cottage Tales of Beatrix Potter by Susan Wittig Albert . The Cottage Tales are a series of mystery stories in which Beatrix Potter is the protagonist. Susan Wittig Albert has done extensive research and befriended Miss Potter in order to write as faithfully as possible. The stories are easy, delightful read alouds that capture the attention of both boys and girls, particularly those who finish watching the movie and just want to know more--even if that more is fiction steeped in fact. These are available at audible.com--can you guess what we will be listening to on our next road trip?

And what is a Beatrix Potter rabbit trail without a  tea party? Mrs. Albert plans one for us and lay it out in lovely detail, complete with decoration suggestions and recipes at the Cottage Tales website. Dear friend, you might want to brew yourself a cup of tea before you begin to click around here.

Oh, and before we leave Mrs. Albert, here's the ultimate librarian tip: she and her husband also wrote the China Bayles mystery series. And at that website, we discover the "herbal" mysteries, that is mysteries solved by China Bayles, lawyer-turned-herbalist, who is quite the sleuth. Each mystery features an herb and lots of herbal lore and information is woven into the story. And, with all good herb stories, there, are of course, more recipes.(scroll down to the recipe index) and another sweet tea page (click on Tea Parties for a whole year's worth of themed tea parties). Note: I recognize that I have now left Beatrix Potter entirely but that's the stuff of great rabbit trails!.

Sigh. So there you go: a warm, wonderful movie that makes one want to wrap her shawl around her (if one had a shawl) and go for a walk around a lake--and then to come home again and paint beautiful pictures for and with children!

 

Considering Childhood

When the Rule of Sixstarted making its way around the blogoshpere, I had a very new baby. I thought it was a meme and I gave little thought to carefully choosing my ideas. I borrowed ideas from here and there and put together my list. Several months later, I had the idea to revisit the list and see where we were. And then I took that list and wrote it again. Then, I realized I couldn't separate what was mine from what was in someone else's voice because it was all a jumble in my head. So, I had the idea to take the list, tweak it yet again, and then go back to Real Learning and describe each item in words I knew were mine. Now, the list looks like this:

• Live the Liturgy
• Experience loveliness
• Breathe deeply: Fresh air and exercise:   
• Serve others
• Listen to, contemplate, and exchange ideas. 
• Develop expressive skills.   
• Practice logical reasoning. Math.
• Receive focused attention and affection

Live the Liturgy: Like everything else we teach a child, the atmosphere and the discipline of religious formation is integral to its success. Catholics have rich traditions of the liturgical year upon which to build a foundation of both knowledge and love of God and his Church. It is in living the liturgical year with our children in the heart of our families that we are best able to convey the expression of genuine faith in the beauty of the Catholic Church...Crafts, and reading and writing activities, are seamlessly incorporated into our lesson time, bringing home the point that there is nowhere that religion ends and real life begins. Particular Bible studies, meditations, saints' stories, and the celebration of sacrament anniversaries are planned for teatime. Teatime is my liturgical year tableau. [pages 120 & 122]

Experience Loveliness:It is even simpler to see His hand in art and literature, poetry and music, and the infinite beauty of nature. God is there. He wants us to know Him there, and He wants our children to know Him, too. [page 23] We continue to educate our children at home because of the freedom to choose excellent books which stir children's hearts and inspire their souls. We continue to educate our children at home because here we are able to surround them with fine music and lovely art all day long. And we continue to educate our children at home because here an eleven-year-old boy can cradle a sick baby and learn the lesson of rare and lasting love. [page 229]

Breathe Deeply: Fresh Air and Exercise: Make athletics a family pursuit. Try hiking or biking together. Consider some less commonly pursued sports like water-skiing, dance or racket sports. If you take the lead and find something you enjoy, your children will follow. When athletics become part of the family culture, they are infinitely rewarding.[page 178]

Serve Others:Children who are charged with household responsibilities reap the benefits of learning life skills, time management, and perseverance. If your children are trained in household routines from the time they are old enough to toddle, they will have a firm foundation of right habits upon which to rely. Over the long haul, children derive satisfaction at a job well done which goes far beyond canned warm fuzzies and carries them much farther into the real world than advertising hype ever will.

Listen to, Contemplate, and Exchange Ideas:The atmosphere of the home we are considering is alive with living books and living ideas. There are art books and prints of works by the great masters. There is a garden, however small, where wee hands are invited and encouraged to touch, to feel, and to grow. And every afternoon, at four o'clock there is teatime. Flowers on the table, Mozart on the CD player, and a goodie or two on the table. The children are seated around the table where they are given the undivided attention of their mother and encouraged to talk; to discuss and to relate living ideas; to celebrate the feasts of the liturgical year. That is the atmosphere of education. [page 31]

Develop expressive skills:In a household where narration s a daily habit, children learn to listen carefully the first time. They learn to pay close attention while reading (an art that is all but lost in an age of readily available information). They also learn to express themselves effectively. It is this expression that will be the hallmark of an excellent education. A child's ability to communicate well, both verbally and on paper, is absolutely essential. It does not matter what he knows unless he can convey that knowledge well. The most important thing our children can learn to do, and indeed the call of each and every child, is to go out and make believers of every nation. They cannot do that unless they can tell the Good News clearly and compellingly. [page 65-66]

Practice Logical Reasoning: Math: We cannot shirk our responsibility to help our children learn to think like mathematicians. Ours is an increasingly complex, technological world. There is no ducking math--it's everywhere. Instead, we should encourage them to embrace the precision and the logic. We should provide the tools and present the living ideas. Children can be inspired by stories of mathematicians. They can be inspired to become mathematicians. [page 80]

Receive Focused Attention and Affection: In order to bring this lifestyle of learning into your home. you must look for beauty and new ideas, listen to your children's interests and desires, create memories, look for new habits to develop, and give children the grace of time to savor your life at home. Become involved with your children. Look at their hearts. Let them look at yours. Give them your focused attention. Edith Stein encourages, "The children in school do not need merely what we have but rather what we are." [page 44]

I first selected the passages over a month ago and then I put the project aside in order to attend to Real Life. But my own words rattled around in my head and I found that I believe them more today than when I wrote them. And some of them were written nine years and four babies ago! They've stood the test of time in my home. I own them. They are me. But they are the best of me. They are what I strive to be, not what I always am.

I've resolved to use my list--I call it "A Considered Childhood"-- as an organizing principle as I plan and record our days. So, without further ado, it's time to dust off Faithful over Little Things, and record our days once more.

Sing a New Song: Creativity

One of the things that drew me to a Charlotte Mason-style education all those many moons ago was the inclusion of music, art, and handicrafts. I wanted to be sure that education in our household never resembled the checklist style of learning being propagated in other educational venues. To me, educating a child is like weaving a tapestry. A utilitarian tapestry of only dark colors was not my goal.

I wanted several different tones and textures of threads. I wanted a fine (sort-of-classical) academic education, to be sure, but I also wanted to touch the heart and soul, the creative spirits of my children.

Recently, a conversation with a very creative soul led me to think about whether or not this is a creative household. Looking back, the train of thought seems rather ludicrous. My husband is a television producer/director/writer. I write a little myself ;-). My kids all have blogs and love to write and take photographs. Yet, there is a part of me that longs to "touch" creations. And then, I looked around.

This is, by far, my favorite piece of furniture. Michael  painted it for me last year for Mother's Day. He's always been creating--paper, pencils, paint, photos. He's a visual guy who loves to both create and to appreciate art.

But then I considered the next child. The one who can take a cardboard box and packing tape and replicate an entire television set. The one who decides that they can't play basketball in the basement until the walls are hung with NCAA banners of his making and the floor is marked to look like a basketball court.

And then to the next child. Ah. Stuck here a bit. He wants a kit and detailed directions. He's afraid to make a mistake. Perfectionism is not a good creativity enhancer. File that away to ponder a bit. Perfectionism will kill creativity. And perfectionism breeds burnout in a big way. We can't be afraid to make mistakes. We need to stretch and to grow, lest we wither and die. We need that creative stretch not just for our children (though they really, really need it), but for ourselves as well.

The fourth child has been begging me to learn to bead jewelry, to learn to sew, to learn to crochet. She loves to make flower fairies, to redecorate her bedroom frequently. Yep, creativity here, for sure. In a minute, dear...

But it was the fifth child who brought me up short. Just before Easter, I went into his room to look for a Sharpie. He hoards them. We're not sure why; we just know that if we need a Sharpie, Stephen always has them. So, he wasn't home and I needed a Sharpie. I opened his desk drawer. There were two packages of Prismacolors still sealed, a  brand new package or water colors, and a whole rainbow of Sharpies. Basically, two years' of art supplies were untouche din his drawers. He'd borrowed and scrounged when he wanted to draw.

When he got home, we had a heart to heart. He loves to draw, so I knew it wasn't that he was uninterested. Indeed, he tends to keep things "just so": clothing, food, toys. He doesn't want to mess them up. As he was telling me that he just wanted his supplies to stay nice and new, I thought of all the times I've hesitated to begin a project because I was overwhelmed by the thought of the mess, the loss of control over my environment. I thought of all the times I've said, "in a minute, dear."

Stephen and I read the parable of the talents and we talked about how eager God is to see what we DO with the creative material in our lives. In the past few days, I've noticed one brightly colored picture after another coming from his hands--and his heart.

Shortly after my discussion with Stephen, I sat down with Sewing with St. Anne. Long have I promised to learn to sew with Mary Beth using this book. No more promises. It was time to move. The girls set off to the fabric store. All you fabric junkies might not understand, but this was a trip to feed our souls if only because of its novelty.  Mary Beth and Katie had never been to a fabric store before. I took them to G Street Fabrics. Eye candy everywhere. We were drawn to the cotton florals. Half an hour later, we left the store with a stash of fabric and seam binding and thread. We are going to make bibs for Karoline (and probably some kerchiefs and hair scrunchies too--I am sure I overbought). Admittedly, these might be the most expensive bibs ever made, but I think it's cheaper than therapy and how creating will feed our souls! Just working with beautiful materials fends off the burnout.

The boys are eager to watch the bibs take shape and have already thought of some needlework projects of their own. Something about monogramming numbers on cleats and soccer bags...

As I seek to understand how important creativity is, I've been blessed with very creative women who share ideas and philosophies on creativity. Kim and Alice and Rebecca listen to me muse and encourage me with the gentle nudging of kindred spirits who know that the soul yearns for more than academics. They ensure me that nursing mothers don't have to put creativity on hold. I am reminded that one of our friends creates extraordinary rosaries while nursing a baby and another writes novels.

Mary Beth and I have spent hours looking at the art on Kimberlee's rosary site and Alice's Garden of Grace. As Kimberlee has shared her passion for creating with me in conversation, I've become more aware of how important it is to deliberately nurture creativity in a household. Posts like these make me pause and re-evaluate the atmosphere in my home. Am I giving time and attention to ensuring that creative pursuits are supported or am I just benignly allowing them to squirrel away cardboard and packing tape and calling it good? There's a place for cardboard projects,to be sure, but my children also need more from me...

And I need more. We have a house full of good writers, due, in large part to the example my husband and I set. If I never back away from the books and the keyboard, I set a one dimensional example. That's not good for the children. And it's not good for me. My soul, created in the image of the Great Creator, longs find expression in art.

Inspired by her Easter present, which was created by Kimberlee, Mary Beth reminded me again how much she wants to bead. And now I do, too! And I think that Patrick is captivated by the stones and the patterns and the place for precision in the creation of rosaries. So, we went off to buy crimping pliers and a few stones to get us going. With a creative spirit whispering in my ear and giving me a generous shove, Mary Beth and I made a simple St. Therese chaplet. I even managed to do some of it with Karoline on my lap. Admittedly, babies and toddlers can make the experience  of creating a tedious one, but if I can be content not to have everything "just so" and not to complete everything according to my time constraints, we can be happily creative here.

Handcrafts, art, and music cannot not just add-ons in this lifestyle, things we get to if there's leftover time. They need to be deliberate pursuits to which time and energy are eagerly donated.

Do we get burned out because we are stuck in a predictable but controlled rut?  It's simpler to make the checklist and hit the same routine of read, narrate, drill every day. This is one of the points which bothered me most about the CM Planner. There was no way to record those things that were not in the read-and-narrate or complete-a-page modes. If we are slaves to the checklist mentality, we will  begin to burn out because we will drive out all creativity and recreation. (Note how "creativity" and "recreation" are such similar words.)

That is not to say that all creative pursuits are spontaneous. Indeed, you will have to plan for creativity.You will need to find supplies and instruction, mentors and direction. And you will need time. Creativity isn't as easily contained. It needs a bit of breathing room and some time to germinate. It's hard some times to "justify" taking time for "real school" for paints and papers and sewing and songs .  Those creative pursuits are just as real. And they are necessary. Denying the time and opportunity  to be creative is setting oneself up for burnout. John Paul II reminded us that "With loving regard, the divine Artist passes on to the human artist a spark of his own surpassing wisdom, calling him to share in the creative power." God is calling! Can you hear him?  Put away the morning books and spend the afternoon sharing in His creative power.