Well boys and girls, these are the questions asked of me by my nine-year-old between 8:20 and 8:31 this morning:

“Why does God let our bodies hurt? I mean, why make my ears hurt when I’m trying to help it get better after getting them pierced?”

“Why doesn’t God just make illness stop? It’s mean of him to let people be sick, I mean, if God can do anything then why doesn’t he fix that problem.” (Notice, this child insists on using the masculine pronoun even though I primarily use the feminine. She doesn’t like new things, this one. In contrast, the other one is bouncing a blue balloon on one finger and insistently shouting, “Yes she does answer us when we pray. She does, Mommy!” Meanwhile, the agnostic one is making cheese sandwhiches and laughing his head off, which is not entirely uncommon.)

“Why doesn’t God make it easier to understand things he says– I mean, if we can’t communicate too well with him, at least he could communicate with us because he made us and he should know how to talk to us? I mean, if his mind is so much bigger than ours that it makes it hard for us to understand they ways he is thinking, couldn’t he just—you know—adapt?”

“Mommy! God should just make sure that everyone can see him really easily. I mean, there hasn’t been a miracle in a LONG time. And he should just make sure everyone can understand him. (Pause) Because then more people would believe in God and its good to know God. (Pause) He’s is pretty good to know still. (Pause) Even if I am still really upset about that feeling pain and being sick stuff.”

Yikes! Does anybody have a book called “A Kids’ Guide to Theodicy?” or maybe “A Child’s Garden of Prayer and the Problem of Evil?” Anyone? Huh? Huh? Anyone?

As a child I always asked for books at Christmas time. For some reason they rarely materialized. One year I was given two beautiful hardback books with colored plates: Little Women and Hans Brinker and the Silver Skates. Both are proud members of my book collection to this day.

My own children have a whole basket of holiday reading, from the mundane to the transcendent. This week I’m offering three charming tales sure to be Christmas classic. (Next week: beautifully illustrated nativity tales.)

Little Tree
e.e. cummings
Deborah Kogan Ray, illustrator

“little tree, little silent Christmas tree you are so little, you are more like a flower…”

My husband is a fan of e.e. cummings, and I gave him this beautiful watercolor of a book one Christmas when we were dating. Now we read the gentle story of Little Tree to our own children on quiet nights beside our Christmas tree. It’s out of print now, but you can still find a few gently used copies here. Today’s Flavor: Rhythmic and lovely.

The Year of the Perfect Christmas Tree Gloria Houston, author
Barbara Cooney, illustrator

An Appalachian mother and daugther are determiend to retireve the mountain top Christmas tree Papa had earmarked before he left for the war. The Year of the Perfect Christmas Tree is a simple, lovely tale about making do and making merry where a wedding dress becomes angel garb, and a clever mother finds a way to make her daughter’s Christmas wish come true. Well researched to capture the reality of Appalachian life and beautifully illustrated by Barbara Cooney, this can quickly become a Christmas classic in your home. Today’s Flavor: Nostalgic and hopeful.

P.s. Ms. Houston also wrote the fantastic My Great-Aunt Arizona and Ms. Cooney illustrated the wonderful Miss Rumphius.

Red Ranger Came Calling
Berkeley Breathed

Ohmylord, there cannot possibly be a more hilarious and charming tale than Red Ranger Came Calling, the story of a sour little boy and a disinhearted old … Saunder Clos? Berkely Breathed famed creator of Bloom County, Outland, and Opus, travels back to his childhood haunts on Vashon Island to illustrate a cheeky tale that’s sure to delight. Santa is down in the dumps and “visitors not recieved with zesty jolliness at the moment.” But by-gum, the Red Ranger of Mars is going up to his house to find out what happened to his “Official Buck Tweed Two-Speed Crime-Stopper Star-Hoper Bicycle.” What he finds there…well, I don’t want to give it all away. Suffice it to say that this comically illustrated book is a sure fire hit in our high-drama household. Today’s Flavor: Firey and fun.

Click on the links in this post to order these items, or any items at Magpie Suggests, and your purchases will help fund this site. Thank you for your support!

Wednesday Reviews: Thanksgiving Stories

I know it’s cutting it close, but on this day before Thanksgiving, I’d like to review some books for the diners who are sitting at the kids table.

The first is The Night Before Thanksgiving“>. Like the characters in this book, my children and their cousins giggle about the same things I snickered over with my cousins — goofing off at the kid’s table, putting olives on our fingers, and eating leftover turkey sandwiches. Nostalgic and fun.

The second is a more artful story The Very First Thanksgiving Day, which touches on the fact that we Western Europeans owe our very survival on this continent to the Native Americans who shared their skills and bounty with our ancestors so many years ago. Beautiful illustrations and a repetitive rhythm children love. Artful and insightful.

My seven year old daughter fell in love with this book, which she read to her two year old cousin last week. It’s not about our Fall holiday, but it does a lovely job of encouraging gratitude. Give Me Grace is short enough to memorize in a couple of readings, and the alluring illustrations feed the eye as well as the soul. Bright and meaningful.

Finally, I’d like to recommend this pretty, classic story. Ox-Cart Man is not directly about Thanksgiving, but it’s cyclical story of growing-and-harvesting captures the turning of the seasons, while it’s spare bounty quietly instills a since of gratitude amongst our overly-modern children. Classic and grateful.

Click on the links in this post to order these items, or any items at Magpie Suggests, and your purchases will help fund this site. Thank you for your support!

After spending TWO HOURS in the piano teacher’s waiting room helping two second graders spell EVERY SINGLE WORD of their report on bumblebee bats (which are so rare, no one even knows what the eat), my fourth-grade daughter hit me with this one:

“I can’t believe you and Dad think things like making dinner and doing dishes are more important than helping me with my logic homework. I guess you two are just willing to jeopardize my educational future!!!!”

Now that I have a digital recorder I’m going gaga making soundscapes, audio essays, and interviews. In one such interview, Eden chatted with me about living the artist’s life — specifically about quality control, mass production (pro or con?), and pricing your artwork for sale. There’s some really helpful stuff in there.

By the way, Eden is nine.

Listen to Eden on Art

It’s a little bit of a rough recording because I don’t know how to edit properly yet, but hang in through the not-too-long slower bits to catch Eden’s pearls of wisdom. In the recording I mention this product and this event, and Eden talks about my vintage collection which you can find here. Also, as a nice little tie-in I’m reviewing the band you hear at the end of the podcast in my weekly review over here. Happy listenting!

P.s. I’m a little shy about posting these podcasts, so if you feel like commenting it would go be ever so encouraging. And I promise to learn how to edit soon!

Here’s a retroactive post from my life as an non-traditional ordained minister. You’ll find more Magpie posts on spirituality every Sunday from here on out.

Jesus in My Stomach
orginally posted November 10, 2003

Yesterday my sister in law emailed me from Africa. She’s a missionary there, in Kenya. She and her husband work incredibly hard to install water systems and build medical facilities and school houses. They are an amazing couple.

Anyway, she emailed us yesterday to tell us “very exciting news.” Now, when I see this in an email from my relatives, I assume this means someone is having another baby. (We are the only ones stopping at two.) However, this time she was super excited because her four year old daughter had accepted Jesus into her heart.

Now I’m happy about this. This is very, very sweet. But at the same time, this makes me wonder, because even though I am an ordained minister, I have not so much as even offered to pray with my children about asking Jesus into their hearts. In fact, it hasn’t even crossed my mind.

After reading the email, I turned to Cate, who was sitting next to me at the computer and said, “Cate? Where does Jesus live?” “In your bah-dee silly!” Cate replied. (Cate is three.) “Oh Yeah?” I answered, nonchalantly, “Where?” “Here.” Cate pointed to her heart, with an uncapped purple marker, tapping her sweater several times.) “That’s great Catie. Glad to hear it.”

On to the next child, age 5, who’s cutting out paper dolls in the living room. “Eden, where does Jesus live?” Eden answered, sounding very bored and put-out, “In heaven….on the earth in the olden days….in my heart.” Again I try the nonchalant parent voice, “Yeah, that’s good to know Eden. You know, Auntie Jewel says Joanne just asked Jesus to live in her heart.” At this point Eden put down her scissors and looked at me with her head cocked to one side and her mouth scrunched up like she does when she thinks a grown up is trying to pull one over on her. “Jesus lives in everybody’s heart. Everybodies in the whole world, Mommy!” “Yeah, Eden. That’s kinda what I think too. (pause) Unless someone wants to kick him out.” Eden shrugged. Then she went on to her paper dolls and I went into the kitchen, confident that my kids were aokay in the ole’ salvation book.

That’s pretty much how I form my theology. Thirty four years of sermons, 12 years of Christian education, 4 years of Christian college, three years in seminary… and it all boils down to 2 conversations with the 5 and under set. Go figure.

Of course, the next day Cate told me Jesus lived in her stomach…with her baby, “Nina”….not sure what that’s supposed to mean…

a photo of a circus page in the shared journal Jen and I passed back and forth the last time we were blocked

I was so good about advance-posting things for while I was on vacation, and now that I’m back I’ve barely had time to touch the key board. The kids are bored with thier toys and feeling twitchy about the upcoming transition back to school. I’m longing for some studio time but loath to say goodbye to the few sunny days we’ve had this season in Seattle. Does anyone else find the last two weeks of “school’s out” a bit trying? What’s your solution? Post ideas below!

I did manage to happen upon a fun summer read while on vacation, and offer it to you now as twlight read for the dog days of Summer. Check out my review of Water for Elephants over at Magpie Suggests — and enter to win your very own copy! (Ooooo, I love give aways!)

The Day of the First Fruits or Shavuot usually falls in May or early June, but in this grey Seattle Summer we’ve only just now begun to reap our harvest. Cate’s been tending a little pot of green beans and nasturtiums on the playhouse porch. A few days ago our housemate Sharon came beaming in from the backyard telling Cate to go peek in on her pot. Cate couldn’t be more delighted as she scampered about the yard holding two perfect green beans, the first of her tiny harvest. To show our gratitude for ‘the fruit of the vine’ we followed the Jewish tradition of marking our first fruits with a red cord, marking them as a sacrifice of thanksgiving. Like many of the ancient sacrifices held in the Temple, after the prayers and the ceremony (in this case the tying of a ribbon bow) we turned our offering into a communal feast, and I carefully cooked these two beans separately from the rest of our farmer’s market stash for dinner.

This past year I’ve been working on the concept of abundance, trying to embed in my psyche the idea that there is always enough — enough power, enough talent, enough opportunity — for everyone, If. IF we practice community. If we stop hording. If we open our eyes to the needs of others. If we live generously there is always enough for a feast.

Dayenu, it is enough.

A Prayer for Shavuot:
Blessed are You, Lord our God, Ruler of the Universe,
who has kept us in life, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this season.

Catie in her downy woodpecker mask she made at science camp.

Every Summer — in addition to camping trips and swimming lessons — I send the kids to at least two summer camps. Lest you think I am the kind of mom who doesn’t want to spend time with her kids…. Well, actually, sometimes I am the kind of Mom who doesn’t want to spend time with her kids. In fact yesterday I just about collapsed after the post-vacation foray to the grocery store. It was all I could do not to throw the ice cream in the freezer and leave the rest of the stuff on the counter while I collapsed on the couch with a martini. But I digress…

As I was saying, the kids go to two summer day camps. Last year they went to a couple of very different types of church camps, which I wrote about here. This year we made it to the first gung-ho “Jesus Freakin’ Loves You!” camp (also known as indoctrination camp). Then we opted for a science camp at one of our big urban parks. The girl’s favorite thing about camp — any camp — is the music. After a day at church camp they come back singing songs with lyrics like this:

I’m gonna clap my hands, I’m gonna stomp my feet
I’m gonna raise my hands, I’m gonna bow my knee,
From my head to my toes and all that’s in between
I’m giving you all of me…

But when they go to science camp they come home with songs like this:

It starts with an “S” and ends with a “T”
It comes out of you and it comes out of me
I know what your thinking but don’t call it that…
Lets be scientific and call it scat!

Yes, we have mastered The Scat Song. Our scientific education is now complete!

Dear Eden,

You hung around our heals this morning as Dad and I rubbed our eyes and blustered through our morning routine until you finally had to joyfully burst, “It’s my BIRTHDAY!”

And now you are nine.

This has been a hard-won year for you little girl. No wonder you are so proud of achieving the next digit on the number line! Childhood experts say that there are stages of equilibrium and disequilibrium, and this last year for you as has been the latter. You lost your best friend to the school bully; got mired in yucky schoolyard dynamics; developed a queasy tummy to go with your upset heart; and pulled into yourself for awhile like a tiny turtle twice startled.

Your sensitive tummy didn’t indicate your really strength though, and like an unexpected heroine in a story book, you showed yourself to be deeply insightful, full of integrity and very, very strong. I was so proud of you when you ignored Mean Maddie and – in spite of her Rasputin-like control over your best friend Rosie – wisely declined her invitation to put you “on the wait list” for the Mean Girl’s Club. I was inspired by you when you faced bravely into an internal emotional storm front and struggled through to learn how to live within your broad emotional range. (A lot of people – grown ups even—don’t learn how to take care of their emotions and they just stuff them into a hiding places instead. You did real grown-up work this year, and I am so proud!) I was relieved to see you use “Team Eden” to help you find your way back to your healthy, happy self. (Not everyone can learn how to “find containers for big emotions” like you can!) Now, at the end of this hard-won year I often find myself gazing at your clear-eyed beauty as you read in the corner in your new wire-rimmed eyeglasses, or wander through the house and yard touching this and that and making up stories. You are such a self-knowing and winsome creature!

This year when Rosie and you hit a tough patch, you got over your fear that you didn’t know how to make friends and found a whole slew of new companions. This was the first year you’ve had boys-for-friends and you teamed up Noah, Sergio and Grant to be “The Four Amigos.” (Noah says that you are his best friend because you “have a kind heart.”) You also discovered a new friend in Ella, and helped Perrine find a place to belong when she transferred from her school in France mid-year. Not to mention all the kids who are clamoring to get invited to your birthday party! Your kindness has won out over all kinds of icky playground power struggles, and shown you to be a true friend to lots of different types of people. Good job Eden!

In addition to figuring out friendship challenges, you learned a lot of other things at school too this year. You listened to your emotions and your body and figured out that while you like to be active, you don’t like competition. So, you became the referee at four square, the cheering fan at kick ball, and opted for recreational swims over swim team races. Your teacher said you were “systematically making your way through the entire library” at school and you really excelled at writing. Your report about Anne Franks was sensitive and fluid, you showed a real writers “voice” in your lion report, and you wrote volume after volume of cleverly told true family stories in writer’s workshop. You excelled at speaking in public and did a couple of very nice oral presentations in class. You even overcame your nervousness of timed tests and became the only student to complete the entire multiplication sheet in two minutes!

One thing that really surprised and pleased you this year was when you were honored for your leadership skills and were chosen to be the CEO of your class store for Village Days. How exciting to be in charge of Toytropolis! You certainly took those business- building skills to heart when you landed your first Summer jobs — walking Merlin while the neighbors were away, and watering gardens-for-hire. And of course, I’m very proud of you for being so clever and generous as to hold a yard sale with a bunch of your toys to earn money for you sister’s birthday present – the American Girl doll bed she’d longed for but never managed to save enough allowance to buy. I’m so proud of you for being so generous and kind!

One of my favorite things to discover about you this year is how much you love water. You even sigh, “Oh…..water!” when you see someone hosing down a hot sidewalk in front of the local grocery store. You’re the first person in the lake and the last one out, and while other kids are just splashing around in water fights you are out there practicing your strokes and swimming in an underwater world of mermaids that is all your own. I’ll never forget the image of you out in the water at Golden Gardens raising your outstretched hands to the sky and shouting, “I’m up to my waist in the Puget Sound!”

Many times this year I’ve found myself staring at you in one of your many moments of enjoyable solitude, and I admire your extreme beauty. I love watching you unaware so I can drink in the clarity of your eyes, the perky scatter of freckles across your cheeks and the smooth strength building in your body. I love every complicated, insightful, joyful, intense, creative, powerful part of you. I’m so glad you made me a Momma. Happy birthday, baby mine.

Love,

Momma