A good read

I have a suspicion that Liam (7-month-old son) and Nick (Phd. candidate husband) have been studying together.

My first clue was the stack of books on the window sill tonight. Sandwiched between Greek Grammar and Penitential Prayer Traditions were Goodnight Moon and Dr. Suess's ABCs. And on top of Ancient Texts for New Testament Studies? Sandra Boyton's But Not the Hippopotamus. 

Just had to smile at that collection. I love the mix of life in our home. 

I suppose if Liam starts spouting Greek or Nick begins speaking in rhyme only, I'll know why.

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 I am thrilled that Liam is already developing an appreciation for good books (even if, for now, that appreciation involves chewing the pages).  We hope to encourage his penchant for learning. Great stories are one of the best ways to open up the world of ideas for our little boy as he grows.

When you love to read, you can learn anything. I am hoping that by making reading a part of Liam's life from the beginning, he will be inspired to step into the lives, cultures and ideas of others through great stories for a lifetime. 

Here are a few reasons I appreciate a book-centered education and why I think we might want to use lots of "living" books to educate Liam (obviously a lot of this will come into play down the road!):

-Facts and figures fade from the memory quickly, but everyone remembers a good story. I'd much rather "get" the concepts and realities of life during World War II from a biography or historical fiction than from a dry paragraph in a textbook or a list of battles. 

-When we discuss the dilemmas characters must face between the pages of the books we read, we can guide Liam into the process of critical thinking and ethical decision making BEFORE he has to face many of those scenarios in real life. Certain books may spark important discussions that might rarely come up in the everyday swing of things. 

-Great writing is born out of great reading. Wide reading exposes you to the rhythms and musicality of language, the power of just the right word, the "pop" of onomatapoeia, the undeniable appeal of a catchy hook in your first paragraph. 

-The patterns of plot helps us understand the world. I believe we all adopt a narrative to explain where we've come from, why we're here, who's in charge, why beauty exists, why we're broken, where we're going.  God's metanarrative is amazing—He's a master storyteller.

So now that I have finished lauding good books for the time being, please share your book recommendations with me! Share your favorite, your most life-changing, your favorite book to make fun of, or just what happens to be on your nightstand right now.

Here's my latest library stash (each gets a nibble whenever I get a chance):

The Gospel in a Pluralist Society by Leslie Newbigin (FABULOUS! Such a challenge and a confidence builder as I share Christ with non-believers)

Michelangelo and the Pope's Ceiling by Ross King (fun non-fiction book about the history of the Sistene Chapel and all the scheming and intrigue between powers that were and the artists of the day)

Welcome to Everytown: A Journey into the English Mind by Julian Baggini (Just about to start this, no idea what to expect)

Get a Toned Body in Fifteen Minutes Per Day already went back to the library early. Just sayin.'  

(Not saying whether I am completely toned or whether I just gave up. )

A pit or a well?

 

Sometimes in life you are called to dig deep. Whether you dig a pit or a well is up to you. 

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I am farther from the blue sky and radiant sun, descending into quiet and shadows, away from the crowds and admiring faces. I often am merely aware of the dark walls surrounding me, of the effort of the digging, the repetitive movement, muscle aching at the dance they know so well.

The sweat drains in rivulets down my back and tiny droplets hover, suspended on the tip of my nose, then let go in a torturingly slow drop …drop… drop. The very thought of the never-ending task makes me want to close my mind. Work unrewarded—no applause and flowers and curtain call at the end. Just those walls getting higher.

I am digging. But perhaps I am not digging a pit after all. Digging deep, sweating, and persevering in order to bring about something productive and life-giving. Sheer drops of refreshment, an oasis for the thirsty. Instead of a pit, I am digging a well.

From the bowels of the earth will spring streams of water, quenching the thirsty ground, running in enthusiastic little rivers at first, then filling and flooding and pouring in to make an abundant reservoir, a welcome sign to weary travelers, a sparkle of hope for those lost in the desert, a gathering place for community, a place of connection and belonging and daily life happenings. 

Will I become a woman who is not just broad but deep? Will I search after wisdom and cry for her in the streets? Will I serve the Lord in only the ways of my own choosing or as He has called me? Will I work to grow and become a resource and help to many—and will it ever happen without self-sacrifice? 

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 Many days, I am just moving dirt, sweating a lot, and watching the earthen walls get taller around me. "A pit!" my soul cries out in alarm. "Go back to safety, don't dig so deep. Maybe moving this earth is futile after all." But once in awhile, I see a productive trickle that might just turn into a stream one day. I want to bring life and refreshment to people around me. Fill me up, Lord, with your abundance and make this dry pit live! Use me. 

 An oasis of life-giving refreshment, a reservoir to share with others, a place for community, hope for those lost in the desert and thirst-quenching goodness for a parched body. Only through Christ can I become a vessel to serve others in this way. He is the only one who offers this kind of life. I am humbled that He can use my "clay and earth" imperfect self to offer His goodness to others. He never runs dry.