Confronted in the Clouds

~written May 2 in an airplane over Texas~

Looking out a thick, oval window, I see the crawling, green moss of forests and muddy, streaked paths of rivers. Up here I sense my smallness. Millions of individuals scatter like ants from the mound. Can God really be mindful of each one? Is it true he counts the hairs on my head? It takes faith to cling to the promise of love, yet I ponder the evidence.

Wheatfield under a Cloudy Sky by Van Gogh

I am tied to this amazing world by something invisible. Forces I can’t see and don’t understand give me life. Each breath is taken in faith as oxygen fills my lungs. I cannot believe man is an accident, but are we really the crowning glory of creation?

Crawling on this rock, our marks are visceral. In pursuit of fulfillment, we create, we love, we fall, we cry. Does anyone answer? Is our toil futile? Our contributions are for good or evil; the spirit lifted in hope or crushed in debauchery.

Soaring above it all, my soul is pulled to things higher than mere existence. My life is valuable to the ones indistinguishable on the ground. Their affection gives me hope. What is the origin of relationship? Love came from somewhere. Natural affection is powerful, but is it a glimpse of something greater? Is there a love stronger than death? I rest in the promise of a faithful Creator. He planted my feet firmly in the clay, but one day he will give them wings.

The Barefoot Boy

The past couple days we studied the poem The Barefoot Boy by John Greenleaf Whittier. My barefoot boy relates.

O! for boyhood’s painless play,
Sleep that wakes in laughing day,
Health that mocks the doctor’s rules,
Knowledge never learned of schools:
Of the wild bee’s morning chase,
Of the wild flower’s time and place,
Flight of fowl, and habitude
Of the tenants of the wood…

For, eschewing books and tasks,
Nature answers all he asks;
Hand in hand with her he walks,
Face to face with her he talks
Part and parcel of her joy.
Blessings on thee, barefoot boy!

After carefully sketching Boys in a Pasture by Winslow Homer, he said,

Mom, I think I’m missing something in all the technology.

Now I’m not exactly sure what the “all” in his statement refers to since the extent of his technology is a computer game and the beginnings of a blog, but I suspect that even in his limited game time he senses the enticement. Immersion in a make-believe world cannot fill full the yearning of his heart for something more, something real. The longing is in my heart, too.

I feel it when I glance at the clouds, or see the stars. The universe is awesome. I hear it when the birds sing outside my window. Their gentle song reminds me to worship while I burrow in my bed. I see it when we stroll around the neighborhood. Thin blades of daffodils peek out of the ground giving hope for spring.

The small things beckon to be observed. The soothing beauty of creation pleads to be enjoyed. It is time to explore the wilderness. The woods in the park will suffice. We don’t need to go far, but we have to go.

My Son Is a Published Author!

Backyard Birding posted my son’s instructions for building a bottle bird feeder. His idea works well, and uses simple supplies. The hardest part is coming up with a bottle. We don’t usually buy cola, so we waited quite awhile for our second creation.

If you use these instructions, please share the results with us. It will encourage my young inventor to continue writing.

Speaking of writing, Kris used the alphabet to put together this week’s Carnival of Homeschooling. What a primer it is!

More Interesting Insects

I need to recant. East Texas is buggy, but some of these insects are impressive. Today my son found a walking stick that was alive and well. Thankfully, it missed the dog’s jaws of death, so we were able to enjoy this amazing creature.

If you would like more information about walking sticks, my sidebar contains a couple links from our research. Look in recent bookmarks, where my del.icio.us finds are located.

Learning by Observation

When the door burst open, I heard, “Come, quick, Mom!” Hoping everything was all right, I followed my son. To my delight, Sunshine was staring at a praying mantis.

Observation is a theme for us this year. Observe means to think about what you notice. I want my children to open their eyes to the beauty in their surroundings. As mentioned before, our backyard isn’t very exciting, but it does support life. We just have to slow down and notice.

Two months ago, I recovered the pieces of our bird feeder from the dilapidated shed. My children watched eagerly as I toted the cedar puzzle into the house. Waiting for glue to dry gave me time to reflect on my attitudes about the world around me.

We live in hot, humid, buggy, East Texas. I prefer the air conditioned comfort of my living room, but long to recapture child-like wonder. Fond memories of my childhood include hunting for four-leaf clovers, crawling through mazes of corn stalks, and being amazed by enormous, purple, rhubarb, leaves. What will my children remember? They follow my example, so I’ve purposely started noticing the small things around me. This part of my plan for joy and contentment seems to be working.

The same day we studied the praying mantis, my children found a wolf spider, examined half a walking stick insect, (our dog may intimately know the other half), and sketched the beautiful patterns in a moth’s wing. They are truly beginning to observe the life and beauty around them. It is easy to overlook, especially for my imaginative, busy tribe. Seeing them quietly captivated by a camouflaged insect, thrills me. They are learning.