Veterinarian expenses

After school, I took my dog Misty to the vet to have a couple of things looked at. I knew one of them probably would require surgery, and the other I wasn't sure about. The one was a black mole-like growth on her back. It began as a smaller flat version of what it is now, and the fact that it has increased in size over the past six months has me concerned. It's about a 1/4 inch in diameter.

The other thing on her neck could be a cyst, but it too has increased in size over the past year, and has become firmer to the touch. A year ago when we first noticed them, the doctor wasn't concerned. She said let's wait and see if they get bigger or change color.

They did.

Today she looked at both places, and urged me to have both of them surgically removed, and sent to pathology to find out if they were cancerous or not. The black mole-like growth concerned her greatly, and the cyst thing did not respond as she expected when she tried to aspirate it... blood came out instead of the fluid she was expecting.

So I set up an appointment for next month. I asked for an estimate of what the surgeries would cost, and it came to $400-$500 (included bloodwork, $76; removal of tumor, $120; general anesthesia, $60; antibiotic injection $13; metacam injection $15; surgical pack $15; hospital supplies ?? $25; cephalexin liquid, $16; take home pain med $15; histopathology $107).

If I add in dental cleaning while she is under, that will be another $100.

My husband about fell over. I told him I was getting it done. I wanted those growths off my dog. Whether they are cancerous or not, they are hideous, and I don't like feeling them when I pet her. I want them off if they are malignant, and I want them off if they are benign.

I'm willing to pay the cost of health care for my dog. She deserves to be healthy and happy too.

The Bog is gone now.

The final phase of our pond removal plan took place today, although I don't think I ever thought about it as a plan that we set out to do. Steve had it in his head, I suppose, to get it done one of these days, and being one not to waste time, one of these days was today.

I had a different project to complete, however: I wanted to finish the three panels that will become a fishing booth at our church's spring fling this coming Saturday.

I started painting it yesterday, blocking in all the large areas of color (the sky, the pond mid-ground, and the pond foreground).

This morning, I attacked the details, which included cattails, irises and a water snake on the side panels, and a mud turtle, pickerel frog, salamander, and catfish on the center panel, the catfish being the center of interest.

Last week, when I was thinking about what kind of fishing scene to paint (ocean, river, pond), and what style of painting to use (cartoony, carnivally and primary colors, realistic, impressionistic), and point of view (underwater scene, looking from above, frog's eye view, kid's eye view), I decided to paint a pond (because I know the pond better than the other locations), and used an illustrative style combining some impressionism and some realism, and the point of view of an animal at the edge of the pond.

I love the shape of the catfish body, and the dark contrast it makes against the sky as it hangs from the fishhook. After all, this is to be a Fishing Booth. The kids have to pretend they are fishing.

Catfish are common fare around here. My favorite fish in our koi pond were the great black catfish that mostly stayed at the bottom, but when they swam to the top they were spectacular to watch.

So as Steve took apart the bog, the last remaining piece of the pond he created back in 1989, I was painting the pond and highlighting some of my favorite features: the catfish, the water snake who lived within the rocks of the pond, the frogs, salamanders, and the plant life. Although we never fished in the pond, and never caught a catfish by hook in this pond, I had to depict it for the spring fling booth.

The irony does not escape me. If someone could have taken a picture of our yard, you would see Steve tearing down the bog and carrying away the last of the plants, and filling in the hole, and you would see me furiously painting it all from memory onto three wooden panels without any of the "right" colors. I didn't put in all the plants, nor any of the koi. I wanted to: the pond lilies and dragonflies were on my mind ... but after eight hours of painting, I was tired and ready to quit.

Yeah, it took me that long. Setting up all the materials, painted for five hours, then moved everything to a new location (I was working outside) when my shade disappeared, then setting up everything again in a shadier spot, didn't help save any time. Feeling nauseous slowed me down too. But I finished it to the point I was willing to say "It's done." Had I felt better, I might have gone further with the details.

You might say it was my last attempt to keep the pond's memory.

But I do have all the photos I took on digital camera for the past two years, and all the photos and video footage I took for seventeen years. Yes, I have the memories.

The last four photos in the slideshow above show some views of the real pond that I will always cherish.

Virus strikes this blogger

This is not a good weekend to be sick... but then, what weekend is? I don't even want to describe what has gotten hold of me, but it has set me on my butt, literally, and the bathroom is my favorite place in the house these past two days. I figure it's probably a virus I picked up at school.

Job hazard for teachers. Especially when the students use the same keyboard that I do all my work on. I have those little bleach wipe-off cloths in the plastic container sitting near my computer, and I use them, but apparently, that's not enough to fight the germs the kids carry around on those little fingers. Ugh.

Handwashing is encouraged all the day long, mine as well as theirs, and teachers carry those anti-bacterial waterless soaps with them, and still, a few of the nastiest germs get through the frontline of defense. Ah me. Good news, though, it should be gone in another day or two.

My son, the future pharmacist, quickly assessed my symptoms yesterday afternoon on the telephone, and suggested I get some loperamide... what?? I asked. He told me to go on the internet to find out more (he encourages me to find out things for myself, like I did when he was a kid), which I did, and discovered that loperamide is the generic version of imodium, only a few dollars cheaper.

So, I called my husband at work and asked him to pick some up for me on the way home. But even before he got home, who should show up but my girlfriend! With a box of imodium tablets and a 2-liter bottle of ginger ale to settle my stomach. You can always count on your girlfriend to be there for you.

She had IM'd me earlier, and invited us over for an evening cookout, but I told her about my disturbance, and declined the invitation. Less than an hour later, she was at my door with the relief.

"You didn't run to town and get this, I hope," I said, knowing Steve was bringing some home in an  hour.

"No, my husband picked it up for me on his way home," she smiled. I graciously thanked her, feeling very warm and loved at the moment.

I went to church this morning, risking the obvious. Things seem to be a little more under control today, but still feeling weak, stomach cramps, nausea... generally, unwell. Unable to eat barbecue or other typical Memorial Day cook-out fare.

But you know, I'm not complaining because I do have a bathroom in my house, and a bed to sleep in, and medicine to help me feel better, and friends to take care of me. I live in a country, where freedom is valued and promoted, where I can worship in the place of my choice, where many have died protecting that freedom, or trying to help others obtain it. So this Memorial Day weekend, I am not complaining about being a little bit sick.

The service at church this morning was emotionally stirring. Three of our retired military men came to church in their dress uniform, handsome and valiant. That alone gives me goosebumps. Standing straight and tall, saluting their superior officer just as they would in service, they made us proud all over again. There wasn't a dry eye in the sanctuary as one veteran played Taps on the trumpet.

All the vets were called to stand as they heard their military anthem played, and by the end of the musical tribute, seven men were standing, representing Air Force, Army, and Navy. We have a marine in our membership, but he is serving in Iraq. We pray for Jeremy's safe return.

Tears flowed and sniffles were heard as the ceremony proceeded. All of us remember someone who served our country, all of us know of someone who has died in service. Ceremonies like this are a necessary function to maintain the memories of our past, to keep the American tradition alive for our younger generations.

And thank you, Alyson and Mark.

DisneyWorld vacation?

We're planning a DisneyWorld vacation for one week this summer. I don't know where to stay, but I want to stay somewhere on site, where we can park the car and leave it, and ride the shuttle to and from the park each day. If any of you bloggers have a favorite recommendation, I'll be considering them.

It's just me and my husband. We're looking in the moderate price range for motels. We'd like to have maybe three or four days to visit the parks, and then we'll probably do some beach hopping on our way back home.

Yes, we're driving, despite gas costs. So if you have a favorite place you'd like to tell me about, email me or leave it in the comments. Thank you!

Relay for Life comes to our school

I want to write about an event that took place yesterday. It was the first time such an event took place here, though the event has been repeated at other schools in the area.

Relay for Life, a fundraising unit for the American Cancer Society, held a mini-walk at the elementary school where I teach.

Actually, there have been related events going on all through the week here, ending with the Relay for Life mini-walk. The mini-walk involved each classroom taking a 15-minute time period and walking around the school to show their support for cancer survivors, and to bring recognition to the American Cancer Society. Everyone came prepared to walk by either wearing or bringing their walking shoes. I brought mine.

Throughout the week, students and teachers "voted" for the cutest Baby Picture (pictures of staff in their early infancy and childhood) by dropping money in jars numbered to match a baby picture. The money jars filled up fast, and on Thursday it was counted. Nearly $900 was raised over the span of four days, money that is being given to the American Cancer Society.

The highlight of the event, you would think, was the money raised to help find the cure for cancer and to provide for the care of cancer patients, but for me, the highlight was when cancer survivors from our community were introduced during the opening ceremony. They stood up as their names were announced, each holding a purple balloon. Among them, a woman I didn't know, a couple of men I didn't know, a woman from my church and her husband, a toddler, and three of our own teachers: One a mother and grandmother, one with elementary aged-children, and one with a two year old daughter. All cancer survivors. But you wouldn't know that they'd ever been sick, or depressed, or marked by any of the painful treatments or surgeries they might have undergone.

Or maybe you would if you wondered where their passion for life came from, their determination to make the most of each day, their appreciation for the life they've been given, again. The three teachers have been deeply involved in bringing Relay for Life to our school, and for helping to raise awareness for cancer research. In addition to their teaching jobs, and raising a family, they have given their time for this worthy cause. They looked healthy and happy today.

Now the audience they stood before yesterday was not filled with impressive political dignitaries nor wealthy business owners and corporate executives. No, the audience was predominantly children, grades K-5, and their teachers. The children were respectfully quiet when the speakers stood up. For a crowd of 420 or so kids, who normally challenge their teachers' patience each day when asked to sit quietly for more than fifteen minutes, this was quite an accomplishment.

The most memorable words spoken came from Marie's story. She'd had cancer when she was younger, and had to have the chemo and the radiation therapy. I marveled that she found the right words to explain to the children why she was standing there speaking about it to them. Marie knows there are children in the building who know someone close to them who had or has cancer. She knew they'd be listening. For the children's ears, she made light of the hair loss, and had them laughing with her. Her inspiring message was that the dreaded cancer cannot steal your spirit away from you.

As she spoke of her fear when she heard the diagnosis, I was reminded of my own little scare two years ago. What I'd had was nothing compared to her experience, nor the others standing at the podium. No chemo or radiation for me. No hair loss, no nausea... I had squamous cell carcinoma on my leg, just above the knee. It began as a small growth, looking very much like a wart, which is what I thought it was. I treated it like a wart, but when it continued to grow, and started to bleed, I became alarmed. The doctor made the diagnosis rather quickly from an immediate biopsy. It was surgically removed two days later in the doctor's office, not at the hospital. It had not mestasticized anywhere. I was fortunate. I am more careful in the sun these days. Sunscreen and hats are my friends.

During the assembly that was held at the end of the day, after all the classes had put in their 15 minute walk, the winner of the competition was announced, and the reward presented: a baby bib and pacifier for the Cutest Baby Picture winner. The teacher graciously accepted her award (teachers often are asked to do things in front of their students that appear humiliating and foolish), and the students clapped wildly. I think they loved seeing their teacher wear a baby bib and pop the pacifier into her mouth. She really was very cute (and a great team player!).

We wonder sometimes how we are going to teach our children compassion for others, how to help them gain awareness of their place in the community, and to know that school isn't just about reading, 'riting, and 'rithmetic. With all the demands placed upon the school day, upon the subjects that need to be taught, and upon testing, it seems amazing that there is still time to fit events like this into the school day.

But it shouldn't be amazing. It should be more common than that. Watching how the kids partipated in the fundraiser by voting for their favorite teacher, bringing in money to make sure their favorite had a chance to win, and buying paper links so their class could win the "Link out Cancer" contest (enough paper links were bought to line the driveway in front of the school) proved that integrating community interest projects can be done without upsetting the balance of the day (too much). Certainly, doing the event the week after EOG testing was a brilliant move.

The Relay for Life team organized the event. In addition to the teachers, Julie, Jesica, and Marie, I took photos of American Cancer Society members, Betty Isaacs, Wil Bethea, and Troy Thee who were present for the ceremonies and mini-walk. They actually spent the entire day with us. After observing the support given from teachers and staff this week, I would say we'll be doing it again next year.

One little girl, as she hopped into her car yesterday afternoon, said to her mother "You know about that cancer thing?" Her mother looked at me, then said with some hesitation, "Yeah?" The little girl slid into her seat and explained, "Our class won!" Now I don't think the mother really understood what the girl was talking about, but I knew she would ask her daughter about it on their drive home, and she would learnabout the "Link out Cancer" fundraiser, and the Cute Baby Contest, and about the walk around the building. And when the subject of cancer comes up, the mother and daughter will have another angle to talk about: that many people survive and thrive after cancer, and that the American Cancer Society helps those survivors.

For more information dealing with American Cancer Society, Relay for Life, and Breast Cancer:

http://www.cancer.org/docroot/home/index.asp

http://www.thebreastcancersite.com/cgi-bin/WebObjects/CTDSites

http://www.cancer.org/docroot/par/content/PAR_1_Relay_For_Life.asp

 

 

What moves me forward

The school week is full as EOG testing continues, and students become restless now that they know they have passed. There was a thrill in the air last week when students got their phone calls to tell them the good news, and teachers walked a little lighter for the first time in weeks as the pressure of the testing was finally lifted.

My principal shared with our staff the news of my transfer to another school. I had already told those with whom I work closest of my plans, but when she made the announcement at our Monday staff meeting, I heard soft expressions of shock and surprise... I had not expected that at all. I looked around to see the source, and met the eyes of teachers who genuinely were going to miss me. I realized I would miss them as well. I didn't know what to say!

I've been so busy taking care of business, as I always do, that I haven't even begun to think about how I'm going to do this. How am I going to say goodbye to them? To the teachers who have become my friends, my supporters, my teammates? How am I going to leave them like this?... with only a simple explanation that I am needing a change in my life, and I'm sorry I have to do it this way. I don't know how else to do it.

In recent years (since my 40's) I've come to recognize that if I listen to that small voice within my heart and head, which I attribute to God, the source of what I know and feel, the Lord of my conscience, I often find myself doing things I would not dare do on my own recognizance. I'd be too scared to step into the strange, dark room, to leap off the cliff, to jump out of the boat into the water. I'd be afraid of the consequences.

However, I've learned that the consequences are not to be feared, but to be welcomed. I've grown every time I've stepped out into unknown territory. I expect to do the same this time. Call it intuition if you'd like. I call it faith.

Certainly, transferring to a new school cannot be like leaping off a cliff, unless of course, I'm talking about bungee jumping! I'm not risking death by transferring to a new school, at least not in the physical sense of the word. I might be risking the death of some part of me that has become stalled or frozen, whetherpersonal or professional. I might be risking the death of what was familiar, which doesn't have to be painful. I might be risking the death of life as I know it... and something different, something I haven't even thought about is going to take its place.

That's the part, the something I haven't even thought about, that moves me forward... that part excites me, and makes me want to do this. What will I see, hear, say, and do in my new school that will change me?

Not knowing the answer is the invitation to move forward.

Wondering what it will be like reminds me of what it is like to be a younger person again, starting out life on her first job, her whole world and life ahead of her, open to new possibilities, filled with questions and wonder... yes, that's what moving into a new school feels like for me right now.

The image of the cocooning moth appears in my mind as I write this. It went in a caterpillar, it came out a beautiful moth.

I am still a caterpillar!

Ever changing on the inside.

Two Snakes Displaced by Pond Removal

Although the fish are in a much bigger pond (I'll post pictures of that another day when I have some), and the pond hole has been mostly filled in, there are two critters that seem to be in habitat confusion. I regret to say that two snakes have been displaced from their home since the pond was filled in. Maybe more than two, we don't know. We've only seen the two.

The first snake came to my attention this afternoon. Misty found it beside our garden hose and electric meter in the back yard. She barked excitedly until I came to see what she had in sight. I quickly ran for my camera, of course, and then told her to back up. She complied. At the time I wasn't 100% certain it wasn't a copperhead. We've seen a few over the years, and I never like getting close enough to find out if it is or isn't.

But this one looked pretty much like the one that had been living in our pond in recent years, so I called my husband to ask him what he thought. He asked me some questions about slitted eyes and the color of its belly, and in both cases, I could not, and did not want to, get close enough to answer those questions. He said if it had slitted eyes it was poisonous. The way the sun was hitting its eyes, I couldn't be sure.

I took several pictures, then it slithered off to hide under the heat pump. I came inside to download the pictures, then I began to read some of my journal entry alerts. That's when I came across Dave's entry, Training Day, in his journal, Dead Investigations. The first photo he had posted there was of him holding a snake. I read through his entertaining record of what encompasses defensive tactics training, and then left a comment about the snake. I told him my snake was bigger than his.

He emailed me promptly! You know, I never got that kind of response in writing my paper journal. I love it when someone responds right away!  He said if I emailed him a picture of my snake he'd identify it for me. So I did.

Within seconds, faster than I could have found it on the internet myself, he emailed me again with the identity of the snake, and a picture off the internet. Seems my little critter friend is a Northern Water Snake, non-venomous. That was good to know.

I thanked Dave for identifying my snake, and went about my day, waiting for Steve to get home so I could tell him what we had hiding under our heat pump.

After I told him about the snake, and about the email conversation to identify it, he just grinned. Then he went out front to study the yard, to ponder, to relax. He called to me a few minutes later to come out front. He'd found the snake. I put on my flip flops, grabbed the camera, and ran downstairs to see.

"That's a different snake," I told him. "That one is richer in color, and not as big as the one under the heat pump." I took photos of that one too. Then Steve got his fish net, scooped up the water snake, and carried it off to the creek a few hundred feet from our home. Maybe it will find its way to the river. I hope.

Before he came inside, he tried to provoke the first one I saw from under the heat pump, but either it had already crawled off to a better location, or it refused to come out.

If anyone is missing the pond more than us, it is probably these two snakes. I feel bad for them, but there are plenty of ponds around here much bigger than the one we had. If Steve finds it, he will take it to the neighbor's pond or let it go in the creek.

The Pond is gone.

Looking out over the deck, the sight is seriously somber. Where yesterday lay a serene pond in our front yard, swirling with gold, red, and black and white koi, now gapes a big rectangular hole of red dirt.

It's how it all began seventeen years ago. I had to find the video I had made of that day, when Steve began to dig a hole in the front yard, to verify the actual date. I asked him today, after I came home from school, how long ago had he first built the pond? He said he thought it had been twenty years. "I'll find out. I remember I video taped it."

It took me only a minute to find the exact video cassette, number 21, using the organization system I had created back when I was a stay-at-home mom at the time, and had time for being more organized than I am now.

Tape 21 also features my son practicing baseball hits in the backyard (he was 11 yrs old) with his friends Scottie and Josh, and our neighbor's little daughter jumping on a rebounder behind the catching net; footage of a young chickadee family leaving their nest hanging from a tree in our yard; and our friend Kathy teaching Steven how to dance a slow dance a few days before his 5th grade Celebration end of the Year dance. 

While the family of chickadee chicks above our heads took their first leaps from the birdhouse hanging from the tree limb (I had videoed that event as well), Steve spread the liner, a neighbor's discarded swimming pool liner profusely cleaned and rinsed with clear water, then piled up the rocks around the base of the pond. In those early days, he knew that swimming pool liners were probably not the best choice for a pond liner, but in 1989 there wasn't much water gardening going on, not many advisors to talk to about it.

There wasn't the plethora of information about building one's own fish pond as there is now. We didn't have a computer or internet access back then. No one we knew did. We thought having a video camera and a cd player made us technologically advanced (Imagine, no DVD player, no digital camera, no cell phones either, and certainly we never even dreamed about laptops back then!). My, how technologically ignorant we really were.

So, the pond began, a small, roundish, three-foot deep hole in the ground, lined with a white swimming pool liner, on May 12, 1989.

At first, only water filled the basin, but after a few weeks, Steve began to add the fish. Little goldfish he had bought at K-Mart (there was no Wal-Mart in our county back then). The cheap kind. It was believed that if the experiment failed, at least he didn't have a lot of money invested in the fish.

When the fish proved they could survive, and seemed to be thriving, he decided that he should make the pond bigger, and use a proper liner. He bought a pvc material liner for the first remodeling. Years later, he replaced it with a proper rubber liner, one that wouldn't become brittle with age. Each time he replaced the liner, he enlarged the hole, or maybe it was the other way around. I don't remember.

It soon looked as long and wide as my friend's swimming pool, though not as deep. Our pond's deepest depth was about 4 feet. In the process of enlarging the pond, he also created a bog for bog plants (the irises and cattails love the bog), and a  terrace-like three pond arrangement to enhance the water filtering system. A few years ago, he learned about black light filtering, and bought one. They're expensive. He installed it, and that was indeed a good move toward keeping the water free of the bacteria and algae that had been removing oxygen from the water.

Some of the things he did to the pond over the years include: trying to find the ideal balance of conditions for the fish. He planted trees to provide shade, then had to cut down others so it could get more sunlight. He had to cut the side walls down straight to prevent herons from killing the fish (they like sloping shallow sides), and rebuilt the pump system at least three times, adding additional pumps, and larger ones to accommodate the increase in water volume and fish population. He tapped into an underground spring to bring in fresh water whenever he needed it so we wouldn't have to use our own well water when the pond water level was low. He's added chemicals to stop a fish disease that was claiming them one year, and has culled hundreds of minnows over the years to prevent over population. One thing he has never done in this pond, though, is to fish in it!

The pictures above show what the pond looked like today when I came home, and for comparison, what it looked like just last week, and last year. Just for comparison.

Is This a Farewell to the Pond?

These may be the last pictures I ever post of our koi pond.

The verdict was given this morning as we prepared to drive to Grandma's funeral.

Steve came in from the front yard with the news: the pond liner was torn in several places from the hailstones that pelted it yesterday afternoon.

Fortunately, he has a few days off this week to take care of the matter.

But as he thought about the pros and cons of replacing it or tearing it down, and of our need to have a vacation free of worry over pond maintenance, and our desire to travel long distances in the future years, he decided that now was the time to end his love affair with the koi pond.

She required so much attention, which he was more than willing to give over the years. His dedication to her care and beauty, transforming her from a newly dug 12 foot circular pond into a 30 foot oblong pond, is commendable.

But he couldn't take her with him on vacations, and couldn't provide for her proper care in his absence. If he were to die, or be crippled, he would be unable to maintain her in the condition she has become accustomed to. There would be no one to take care of her as he had taken care of her. Even I would be unable to do the things he had to do to keep her healthy and working properly.

I never competed with her for his attention. She was far more beautiful than I. Her charms even seduced me on late spring afternoons, early summer mornings, and late summer evenings. Dragonflies darted about during their mating flight, laying their eggs among the Iris bulbs and rocks. Toads and frogs called to each other at night in the summer, a cacophany of shrill and bellow, loud enough to drown out Big Brother. Butterflies played among the flowers, and moths performed their death-dance above the pond around the Zapper. Birds came for the water, and even a turtle could be found hiding in the bottom of the pond. Snakes, spiders, water bugs... all came to the pond for their needs. With binoculars in hand, standing on the deck, we could observe it all close-up and in safety, without disturbing the rituals being performed among the stones and plants in the pond below.

Even so, the fall brought out her best colors, lending an amber glow to her water surface. Sometimes, it would be the three of us together in the yard, enjoying in silence the stillness and wonderment of God and nature. Peaceful and sweet were the sounds that emanated from the depths of her soul.

Yet, even so, she cannot take care of herself. The fish who swim within her body of water thrive as long as conditions are optimum for their living. Should her keeper stay away too long, and should a pump stop working or become clogged, or the ultra-violet light burn out, or the water were to become unbalanced... or any number of things that could interfere with the balance of life in the pond... the fish would die. Fish that could easily, if taken care of properly, live to be fifty or a hundred years old! I know Annie made it that long, God bless her, but I don't know that we will!

He can no longer bear the burden of her upkeep. It is best to let her go, to let her become a memory of his past, of our past.

He plans to start tomorrow. I took the photos above to show only the surface damage. Certainly, the plants will grow back, but the liner is damaged, and the work to replace it is indeed a heavy labor. He has done it three times before. I think he needs a break.

He may bring her back later when we're sure we no longer desire to travel for two or three weeks out of the year. After all, gas prices are rather high right now. However, we do talk about traveling every year, and every year, we go no further than a two or three day trip because we need to get back home for the pond. I'd like to be able to travel without such worries myself.

So, I'm here to say "It was nice knowing you, koi pond. You were a great friend, comforting, soothing, always there in all kinds of weather, ever changing, ever beautiful through every season. I will miss you! Thank you for all your gifts and for making our yard and home a sanctuary."

The fish will be transported to another local pond, bigger than this one. I will miss them too. They will be happier there.

I look forward to traveling ... west, south, ... north, ... to Alaska, to Colorado, to the Grand Canyon, to other states I have never visited before.

Mother and Grandmother Laid to Rest Today

Steve's grandmother's funeral was today. She lived about a two hour drive from our home, in the foothills of North Carolina, and was laid to rest at Shady Grove Baptist Church. All her children, most of her grandchildren, great grandchildren, and even some great-great grandchildren were in attendance.

The woman left an impressive family legacy behind: with her devoted husband, she birthed and raised six children, who gave them 18 grandchildren, 31 great grandchildren, and 20 great-great grandchildren, with two on the way that I know of. She also raised a foster son. One of her sons died last year, and her husband died about 15 years ago.

She has been ready to join him ever since. No woman has been more disappointed to wake up in the mornings as she! More than once she would tell us of her desire to fall asleep and not wake up. She missed her man so much. We all saw the great love she had for her Zeno, both before he died and after.

None of us would have believed she could live to be almost 100 years old! Her memory was intact nearly to the end, and her ability to tell stories of her girlhood captured our attention at family gatherings. Her failing vision made it difficult for her to recognize her family if they stood too far away, and her hearing made it nearly impossible to have a normal conversation with her, but she always welcomed her grandchildren and great-grands with open arms and a sharp wit.

In the end, it was a fall that broke her hip that sent her to the hospital two weeks ago, followed by a couple of ministrokes that made her departure from this world possible.

I know if she could have spoken, she would have said, "Thank you, Jesus!" Her daughter described her passing as peaceful. She did not appear to be in any pain. She looked up, then closed her eyes, and took her last breath.

Speaking of her daughters (there are three of them), I'd like to say this about them. These are three of the most dedicated daughters a mother could wish for. They went out of their way, I mean extremely out of their way, to make sure their mother's wish to live at home until the end was a reality.

My mother-in-law lives right next door and could easily walk to her mother's house every day to take care of her... and she did it for fifteen years. Her two sisters had to travel further. One lives ten miles away, another about 30 miles away. The three sisters took turns spending the nights and days with their mother when it became apparent that their mother could not be left alone. They fed her, took her to her doctor appointments, cleaned her house, washed her clothes, whatever it took, they did it.

I know of a few daughters in my church who  have that kind of committment for their moms today. These three ladies certainly did. It was an act of love, there is no doubt, and if they had to do it all over again, they would probably do the same.

Recently, it had become difficult for my MIL, the oldest sister, to help her mother out of a chair or out of a bed (she's 79 years old herself!). There had been talk of placing their mother in an assisted living home. Only talk. The sisters wanted to honor their mother's wishes above any sacrifice they had to make for her.

One thing that became apparent after the funeral, as we sat and talked to family members (my husband's cousins and aunts and uncles), was the common concern that with Grandma gone, the family would probably not get together as often as before, that we would lose touch. It was to her home that everyone gravitated during major holidays like Christmas and Easter, and her birthday. Well, some of the family gathered for her birthdays each year.

We live the furthest away. I will confess that since our drive was long, and because her birthday fell on New Year's Eve, we didn't make a second trip after the Christmas visit to honor her birthdays.  Generally, we were celebrating with our friends and/or neighbors on that night each year. I knew we should have attended her last one.  I'd be lying if I said I don't regret it.

Today Annie Collins was laid to rest. Her children are relieved that she is no longer suffering. Finally, she can join her husband. More importantly, she is with her Lord.

All Hail on Mother's Day!

I didn't know exactly what time my son would arrive to go out to eat today. Turned out, it was after three o'clock. While waiting for him to get here, I was about to lay down and take a nap because it was grey and rainy outside. A thunder storm was approaching, and the tv had lost its signal. Good napping weather.

I never even felt a doze coming on before the sound of heavy drops pounding the roof in a way I had never heard before drew me from the bed. I ran to the front deck. My husband was already outside watching the storm. "Hail!" he called to me. It looked like all hail had broke loose. Literally!

It pelted the pond like tiny bombs, causing a turmoil of splashes in the water, giving the appearance of boiling water. I wondered if the fish felt the impact, and I knew they did. I was sure they had all swam to the bottom of the pond for safety.

The irises, so beautiful only yesterday, the same ones I've been photographing these past two weeks, quickly lost all their blossoms as the icy stones ripped them apart. Their tender broad petals, spread open to the sky, didn't have a chance in hail.  About ten stalks survived only because I cut them yesterday for a vase arrangement. They sit gracefully in my dining room for Mother's Day.

A bed of hail stones between one quarter and one inch soon covered our deck and yard.

My son arrived from a south-easterly direction, while the storm cell was moving north and east, so he missed it entirely. That was very fortunate.

As soon as the hail let up, I had my camera ready to shoot the damage to our flowers, the soft misty steam raising up from the ground and roof, and the white stones covering everything.

I have never seen hail this big at this time of the year!

Regarding the mother's day slideshow I had made earlier this morning:

I didn't have digital photographs of everyone I wanted to include in this tribute. I was unable to find digital photos of my nieces (on my side of the family who have children, who are now mothers in their own right). I didn't have a digital picture of my niece in Connecticut, mom of triplets, nor my niece in Arizona, mother of three boys. My sister-in-law in California is the mother of two grown daughters. The wives of my brothers in Georgia are good moms, too, but alas, no digital pictures of them either, nor of my nephews wives.

I tried to call my mom for Mother's Day, but her cell phone message says her voice mailbox is full. I had sent her a card, so hopefully, that will hold her until I can talk to her on the phone. Long distance relationships are often difficult to maintain. Cell phones don’t always make it any easier. Still, I know that she is okay because she called me a couple of days ago to tell me that she had found a job working for Holiday Inn Express. She has bought a washer and dryer. I'll try to call her again this week.

Steve’s mom has been unavailable by phone today, as well… between going to church, and going out to eat dinner with her kids (I hope someone took her out), and making funeral preparations for her mother, I understand why we can’t reach her today. We had thought about driving to Jonesville tonight and spending the night since Grandma's visitation begins at 10 am tomorrow, but then decided against that due to the care of the dogs. We'll just leave early in the morning, then spend the day with the family tomorrow.

Days like this are when I wish we lived a little closer to our families.

Happy Mother's Day Slideshow

Happy Mother's Day to all my friends and family.

I created the Mother's Day slideshow in this entry to honor some of the mothers in my life.  I didn't have pictures of everyone I intended to honor, however, this is a representation of the various age levels of moms who affect my life, and the lives of those they touch through their family, church, and work lives.

I will return later to write more about mothers.

In the first picture, you see a very dear lady, my husband's grandmother. She passed away on Thursday. It was decided to bury her on Monday rather than on Mother's Day. We will miss her very much, but my mother-in-law was very close to her mother, and the passing of her own mother so close to this very special day is especially hard on her. We will be visiting with her today for Mother's Day.

I may not be able to make an entry before tomorrow night or Monday night.

I've got to go for now, and get ready for church so I can join all my favorite moms and give them a hug.

For Friends Following Flat

First he visited Teresa at Oh, My Word where he was treated to a birthday party and a red Ferrari. He appears to have driven away, showing up at the AOL Headquarters today, and toured their campus. Joe recorded Flat's movements in his journal, Magic Smoke.

By the Way, Happy Birthday to John Scalzi.

I suppose this means it's Flat's birthday too?

Fish with a Cat's Face. No, really!

John Scalzi's Monday Photo Shoot is a grab bag this week. He suggested we find a real cool picture... it could be anything. If you go to his website, you'll find that many folks have already left their links in the comment section to their really cool photos. They are cool. If you have the time, go check them out.

The coolest pictures I've ever taken are with kids, but since I don't have permission to post them here, I'll have to settle for members of the animal kingdom, specifically, fish. More specifically, koi. The koi in our pond. Cool koi.

Not the expensive imported, $1,000 a fish variety, but the kind you can buy for under a hundred dollars. Even under fifty dollars.

The most interesting fish I have ever seen is this one koi who got my attention last year when, as I stood gazing at the pond and the fish (as I am often wont to do), I noticed that the one fish's face very much resembled the face of a housecat.

No kidding! I had called my husband to see and we both laughed! We do have catfish in the pond, but it is this one koi that looks like a cat.

I got tired of saying "the fish with the cat face" everytime I talked about it, so I named it CatFace.

Friends and neighbors who have seen it will tell you it's the weirdest thing.

Truth is, what appears to be the eyes of the cat face are not the eyes of the fish, but some type of sensory nostril.

I know, fish don't breathe through their nostrils, but they have them just the same. I didn't believe it either until I verified it at this website. Koi have nostrils. I didn't have time to research if all fish have them. But I know that koi do!

The fish's real eyes are actually just behind the nostrils. But you don't see them in these pictures because they are hidden by the coloring on either side of its face. Anyway, the nostrils give the appearance of feline eyes.

The "nose" line and "mouth line" arejust fish markings that coincidentally make for an amusing feline feature.

Do you see the cat face? I know it's not as clear as other photos I've taken, but shooting a moving subject through rippling water with the reflection and other lighting inconsistencies has challenged me and my camera.

 I'm not giving up. One day, I will have that perfectly clear photo, one that captures the face in all its cat-like likeness. Y'all will be the first to see it when it happens. It will be super cool!

Then, I might send CatFace's photo to National Geographic!

Here are some interesting koi facts I gleaned from the internet, including the links to their websites:

The word koi comes from the Japanes word nishikigoi. They are a variety of common carp. Writings about koi were first discovered in early Chinese writings dating back to 265-316 AD. According to Pondarama.com, carp fossils go back 20 million years.

Koi can smell with their nostrils! Read this newsletter from Springfield Water Garden Society to find out how koi see, hear, and smell. Did you know they have teeth?

That's all the research I have time for tonight.

Purple irises jog a journal memory

Before I started blogging in August of 2005, I would write in composition books. I would create a cover for the book, then ponder on it for a theme to guide my writing. Sometimes it would be the other way around: I'd select a theme, then design a cover to reflect it. In October of 2001, purple irises splashed across my journal cover.The cover idea had struck before the theme.

In the words below, I describe how I came to choose the theme that guided me as I filled the pages during the following months. I had designed the cover of the book using a calendar page of purple irises, highlighted in glossy fabric paint, and in the top right corner, I had placed a little 2 inch square picture of a window with lavendar curtains moving gently. As I stared at the cover, I wondered at what I would write on the pages. I always loved starting a new journal.

Blank pages are like a new day. This website journal does not allow me to present it in the same poem format I had originally written in without large line spaces you see below. I don't know how to work around that, so I changed the format somewhat. It doesn't detract from the words.

 

A new book!

Empty pages waiting to give birth, expectant of yet unknown joys.

Hopes and dreams, yes, and fears and sorrows all,

All to begin here.

 

A new beginning!

What theme will guide this searching soul?

What words will carry me to my future to become one day words from my past?

What will I tell the me of tomorrow, who will one day look back at the yesterday me with greater understanding?

The truth is all.

 

A morning glow breaks through the window now.

Curtains gently move by unseen breath.

What does it mean to enjoy a bed of purple irises?

I don't understand even now these images, yet in a way I do.

Intuition chooses the window, eyes choose the purple; a part of me understands

And now I know the theme breaking through my mind,

streaking to my fingertips and down the pen's barrel.

 

Waiting.   Praying.   Walking.

 

B.Gilmore 11-14-01

 

That year was a year of waiting and praying and walking with the Lord. It was my third year as a teacher. It was a remarkable year for I knew what I did was not by my own power. I need another year like that... of waiting on the Lord, praying to the Lord, and walking with the Lord.

May Flowers and Grooming Dogs

This weekend I snapped a few shots of the irises growing in our pond. Click on the blue words, view larger, to the left (in the AOL picture window), then select slideshow format for a wonderful, colorful presentation. My gift to you!

Flat Scalzi in Massachusetts

FYI Flat Scalzi fans: he's in Cape Cod and you can read about it at Stacey's journal, High Above Courtside. 

Revealing the turning point

I mentioned in an earlier entry that this was a turning point year for me. I couldn't talk about it much at the time because I wanted to be certain that the move would actually take place.

Now, it seems it will.

This is not a good news/bad news announcement, but I share these words with mixed emotions. You cannot work somewhere for seven years and not develop some trusted working relationships. Friendships, even. And you cannot just leave all that behind without some feelings of sadness.

Working in a school environment, one develops friendships, even if you don't have time to nurture them after the school day has ended. I know many of the younger teachers, especially, find time to fraternize from time to time, and I think this is good. I've watched friendships bloom all around me as more experienced teachers mentor the novice teachers.

I myself have bonded with teachers I've worked closely with from year to year. I seem to have a better chance of knowing someone if I work with them on a daily basis. Or even a weekly basis. That is enough to know a person's character.

A few of these relationships go back the full seven years. One teacher (the Mrs B from the beehive and beakeeper entries) actually went through teacher orientation with me at Elon College in 1999. We remember that day with fondness. Later, we both completed our ILT product (a reflective portfolio displaying a year of teaching practices. Back then, teachers did not get their initial license without it. It was grueling!).  It's not unlike what military recruits must experience with their buddies as they go through boot-camp training. Not as physically demanding, of course, but exciting and challenging. As I recall, it was also exhausting.

I am going to transfer from the school that has molded me for the last seven years. The first school I've ever taught full-time in, excluding my student teaching semester, has created in me a mode of confidence, resulting in an urge to leave the nest, so to speak. That's what makes it so difficult to leave my school and the people who work there: they have nurtured me, cared for me, guided me, taught me, and made me the teacher I am today.

Before, I was a novice teacher, anxious about everything I did or didn't do. Confidence has never been my middle name. Today, though I am not a seasoned teacher, I do have enough positive experiences behind me to make me feel like I am in the right field after all. Doubt has been replaced by certainty. I am not claiming expertness. Just more assuredness. That's more than I had when I first began this journey in 1996.

There is a restlessness in my heart to move on and try a new school building, to make new friends, to share what I have learned, to make a new contribution in another environment. By the same token, I cannot ignore the fact that I will gain volumes from the new routine, relationships, and classroom experiences: new strategies, ideas, and philosophies from teachers I have not known before.

I am giving up familiarity in exchange for new challenges. I am giving up routine and comfort in exchange for something unknown and different. I like where I am, but I am ready to follow another path. A different path.

Have you ever just wanted to take a different road? One that others may have traveled but you had not? Or even one that looks like it has never been traveled, like the Robert Frost poem. For me, where I am going, I have never gone before. It is a new direction in that sense.

I don't know what moves me from the inside, except the God who has always guided me and lighted my path. I don't always look forward to where He leads me, but I do follow. Eventually. It usually means more work is involved, which is why I resist. In this case, I've been resisting for over a year now, and it's time to listen, as Jonah discovered when he was contemplating his fate from within the depths of the great fish. While Jonah was indeed in a place of darkness and despair as he came to realize his error of disobedience and his need for redirection, my place of transformation can be likened to a cocoon: warm and familiar, surrounded by friends and colleagues.

I am not aware of any special message I am to deliver to my new school, but I do think I will have something special to do when I get there!

Or maybe I will find out they have something special to do with me when I get there.... either way, something special is going to happen. There is a change in the making. That is why I am calling it a turning point year.

I will write more about this in a later entry. I am not ready to say goodbye to my co-workers just yet. We still have lots of work to do together before the school year ends! Memories in the making.

Laptops: How not to store them in the classroom.

That's odd, I thought as I picked up the thin plastic square up off my classroom floor. The letters ctrl alerted me that this was not a letter tile, nor a piece of trash. It appeared to be a key from a keyboard. A quick glance at my computer showed that no keys were missing from the keyboard there.

Then I realized why it looked so familiar. It was a key from my laptop. But my laptop was hidden away inside...then I remembered... a student's desk. It's not actually used by any particular student. I have five different classes that rotate through my classroom each day, and each day, someone different sits at that empty desk. Empty until yesterday.

I had placed my laptop inside the desk for safekeeping yesterday afternoon. You see, when I leave each afternoon to go home, I have to keep the door open so the cleaning ladies can come in and dustmop the floor. I worry that they might leave the door unlocked when they leave, leaving my room open for possible theft overnight should anyone break into the school. I'd hate to lose the laptop that way. So I slid it into a student's desk, turned the open side to face the wall, then pushed it against the wall. I had plugged it in so it could recharge overnight.

The next morning, it was still in place, fully charged, and I was happy. Being in a rush, however, I left the laptop in the desk. I forgot all about it until late that afternoon when I was cleaning up... and saw the cool white control key laying on the floor. Immediately, I retrieved the laptop to find out how the key came off, and discovered three more loose keys laying in the desk. Clearly someone had pried them off. Another two letter keys were lifted up higher than the others, as though they were coming off next.

A kid, I thought, but which one? Who had sat there during the day? Which kid had sat there while I was teaching, his hands in the desk, prying the finger keys off the laptop without me noticing? I tried to remember as I packed the laptop up to take home. My husband might be able to repair the keys, reattach them. He's good about fixing things.

He was able to reattach two of the  keys, but not the longer shift key.

Today, I wanted to know who did it. I knew none of the kids would admit to it. I even have kids who wouldn't realize they had done it because they weren't thinking when they did it. Just fiddling, playing, absent-mindedly picking at something. My laptop.

Well, the school's laptop, but it was assigned to me two years ago. An Apple with iPhoto, CD and DVD burning capabilities. Many other features that I haven't begun to use. Mostly I use it for two things: word processor and iPhoto for making slideshows at the end of the year. I use it nearly every day. Students use it. I take it home. Now it is broken. Not irrepairable, though. I think.

So, when one of my groups came in and sat down today, mostly second graders, I said mysteriously, "So does anyone know what surprise I had hidden in this desk yesterday?"

The little 2nd grader, K, raised his hand high. "Oh, I do! I do!"

A 4th grader, S, also raised his hand, "I know, Mrs. Gilmore."

I hadn't figured on getting two responses... now what do I do?

I ignored S first because I knew he hadn't sat at that desk for very long. I turned my attention to K. "Tell us what I hid in the desk yesterday, K." I smiled with encouragement.

"Uhmmm... it was a ...." he tried to think of the word. Really, he had trouble coming up with the word.  He wasn't trying to lie his way out of it. Just couldn't remember. Finally, he smiled and  said, "It was, what do you call it, one of the  computers... a lap..laptop?"

"That's right, K. It was a laptop!" I said happily. All the other kids were listening, wondering where this was going, I'm sure. One fourth grade girl already knew about it because she was in another group earlier.

"And how do you know it was a laptop?" I asked.

"I could feel it. My hands were on it," he replied totally unaware of what I was doing.

"So your hands were on it and you could feel the keys?" I asked.

"Yep... I touched them."

I had him.

The fourth grade girl who knew that the keys were broken said "Uh oh! You broke it, K."

"I didn't break it," he assured her. "I just touched it. It wasn't broken."

I told him he had broken it while he was playing with the keys, and I showed him what he had done. I described the actions of his fingers on the keys, picking at the keys, lifting them up off the keyboard. He stared at it in shock. He really seemed innocent of his actions. Like I said, absentmindedness was the culprit. And touching something that wasn't his.

Mostly, though, it was my carelessness for leaving it in the desk knowing a student would be sitting there, knowing students put their hands in desks, and touch things, and sometimes break things.

I only said enough to make sure he realized the consequences of his thoughtless actions. He was quiet for awhile, another clue that he felt guilty enough. I let him stew for awhile. I sensed his remorse, and that was a good thing. He apologized, and I told him I might be able to get it fixed. 

Before I make a request to have it repaired, though, I'll have to download all my files that I want to keep. Personal stuff. If the tech person takes the laptop away to fix it, it may be a month before I get it back. By then it will be summer.

The laptop still works, of course. Just can't shift on the left. Minor inconvenience, actually. But I'm gonna miss the ol' laptop if they take it away.

I'm thinking about buying one. A nice one. With the larger screen. Compatible with my PC. Yeah, that's my next big technology purchase. But I won't leave it at school, and the students will never touch it. It will be mine. Only mine. My one selfish indulgence in this life.

My birthday is in July. Hmmm..... .

The Beakeeper

There was more to the bee story in the previous entry that I did not include. I thought, at the time, maybe it wasn't as appropriate as the teacher-student exchange. After all, we were in a classroom.  

Today when I informed the teacher, who partook in yesterday's classic classroom treasure, that I had written about what happened in my blog, she thought I should have included our more personal exchange that took place after the kids left the room. She thought it was the funnier of the two exchanges.

So here it is. Back by popular demand!

(If you haven't read yesterday's entry, just click on the link above, or scroll down to the next entry, and read it before you continue. It's part of the story. Prior knowledge, we call it.)

After the reading lesson (the topic was about transferring bees from one place to another), and the students were dismissed to their next class, I met with her briefly at the classroom door. Again, we had a chuckle over her unintentional question and the ensuing response. She said she would never forget this one.

"By the way," I said with an appropriate combination of professionalism and camaraderie, "I think I'm going to become a beekeeper in the next year or two." I paused. "Since my husband already is one."

Her eyebrows raised in genuine surprise. "He is?" she asked with delight. Her interest was keen.  "I didn't know he was a beekeeper!"

I waited another moment, a slight grin on my face, I think. It felt like a slight grin, but I don't know what she saw.

She had that questioning look on her face, you know, like when you think you know a person, and then you find out they have an interesting but unusual hobby like, say, maybe beekeeping. It sounded possible, not too far off the beaten path.

"He keeps bees?" she asked no doubt desiring to hear more of this sweet bit of news.

"Yeah..." I smiled curiously.

Then I tipped my thumb toward my heart and lowered my voice. "He keeps me!"  I said with what I hoped was a mischievous grin. 

I stepped back into the hallway, turning to get a glimpse of her reaction. Her hand flew to her mouth. A split second later she giggled indiscreetly as students filed back into the classroom for the next class. She has an infectious laugh. Another teacher standing nearby overheard the exchange. He chuckled.

"Bea!" she emphasized my name in mock reproof, but her laughing eyes let me know she appreciated my little joke.

"Gotcha!" I called as I left the classroom. I felt her smile all the way down the hall.

It was a good day for laughing.

Just a note: I don't often tell jokes, mostly because I have a lousy memory and always mess up the punch line, and I'm not very skilled at making them up, but once in awhile, I do get one in. Yeaay, me! and yeay 5th Grade teachers who love to laugh in the classroom!

Classroom Humor: Bees and Beehives

Teachers ask lots of questions in the classroom. We are not necessarily the experts in phrasing our questions, though. We try to be, oh yes, we work on our questioning skills, trying to find the right question for each student so they will not only experience success in their response, but also access their higher thinking skills.

But sometimes, sometimes we ask a question that doesn't get the response we expected.

This morning, the reading topic was beekeeping and the 5th grade students were about to read a passage that explained how a beekeeper safely transfers bees to a new hive box.

The teacher stood at the front of the classroom describing the way a beekeeper dresses to protect himself from the stinging insects while I walked around holding a picture of the same for them to see.

Tapping into prior knowledge just before giving a student something to read is a key teaching strategy, especially if you want them to learn something from the reading experience. Finding out what they already know about a topic is a teacher's first plan of action. Giving them a purpose for reading is another practical strategy to improve their reading comprehension.

Today, that's exactly what the teacher did. Just before reading the passage, Mrs. B told the students about the boxes that beekeepers put their bees in. When she asked the class what the boxes were called, students replied "Beehives."

Then there followed an exchange between the students and said teacher about what went on in and around the hive. The best of my recollection it began something like this:

T:  "And what do the bees do in the hive?"

S:  "They make honey."

T:  "Do they only make honey in the hive boxes?"

Now this question was a curious question. I wondered what she was getting at as she paused for the answer. Mrs. B asked it again. Students pondered this. Then onestudent raised his hand and she called on him.

T:  "R... do they only make honey in the beehive boxes?"

R:  "No," he answered confidently, and with no hesitation he added... "they also make babies."

A momentary silence as anyone who was listening closely thought about the question and the response. Then a snicker, then the three teachers exchanging looks, a laugh. The teacher who had posed the question burst into laughter, followed by the entire class laughing. Knowing that this discussion was never intended to follow the path of sex education, even regarding bees, as it were, made the entire scene hilarious.

The boy who had given the answer wasn't quite sure what all the laughter was about. Hadn't he answered the question correctly?

Sensing the student's uncertainty, she explained in between controlling the laughter, which was aimed at herself.

T:  "Thank you, R. That was a good answer... that just reminds me that I need to phrase my question a little more accurately." Her eyes met mine.

It was all I could do not to continue laughing as I realized she had not meant to ask that question. Teachers know that if they don't ask the right question, they won't get the right answer. An added bonus is if you ask the wrong question, there's no telling what kind of responses you will get.

It happens from time to time. We call it comic relief.

T:  "You're right, though, they don't just make honey in the hives, they also make baby bees in there. But that's not what I'm getting at. What I should have asked was 'are those beehive boxes the only places that bees can make honey?' Do they make honey in other places beside beehive boxes?"

Another student raised her hand. "Yes, bees can make hives in trees."

T:  "Yes..." and then the teacher recounted a time her parents discovered a beehive beneath their home when replacing an air conditioning unit one summer. They had to call a beekeeper in toretrieve the bees and transfer them to a another more practical location. This easily led into the topic of their reading this morning.

The students then read the passage, completed the multiple choice questions, and checked their answers as the teacher went over each one, practicing test-taking strategies like  elimination of obviously incorrect responses and referring to the text for the answers.

After the reading lesson, and the students were dismissed to their next class, I met with her briefly. Again, we had a chuckle over her unintentional question and the ensuing response. She said she would never forget this one.

I can't compete with Dead Investigator Dave's office humor, or even Caregivingly Yours Patrick's sometimes funny, often poignant, but always informative stories about caring for his wife Patti (who has MS). Journalers find the humor in their daily lives, even when for awhile their lives may seem dark and they despair.  Still, they take the time to write about what moves them in their journals, the people, events, and moments that make us laugh, cry, or ponder.

I wrote about today's event because I don't want to forget the delightful moments that often present themselves throughout the course of a school day, totally unexpected at times. 

Today was a classic classroom treasure. 

A child shall lead you.

I don't often make entries on Monday, but thought I would, this being a turning point year for me.

No insects to show for. No moths to free. No caterpillars to wonder at. The day was good in its usualness. Students relearned decimal place value to the thousandths place today. It was taught to them earlier in the year, but as it goes, unless it is used often, things like that don't stay in the memory for long. That's why it is important to do something with the numbers.

It wasn't my lesson, but the teacher who taught it had the kids  standing at the back of the classroom, holding their cards with the various decimals. They had to place themselves in order from least to greatest. There was much hesitation for many of them, in reading the numbers correctly, and in placing themselves in between other decimal numbers.

Not surprisingly, they had the most trouble with numbers that had a zero in the tenths place, or nothing in the hundredths place. For example, .045 and .4 ... which is least? They had trouble seeing that .045 is less than .4 ... but by the end of the activity, many of them were getting better at seeing the relationship. Working with the numbers in this way, reading them out loud, holding them in their hands, comparing them to other decimals, walking around looking for their place in the line-up, seemed to help them see, especially once they were all in order, the relationship of decimals placed from least to greatest. We saw several light bulbs go off as they discovered how to read and order decimals to the thousandths place.

Yet, my mind keeps going back to yesterday's event during church, and the words of a six year old girl who doesn't understand place value yet because she is only in 1st grade. But she understands the value of greater things.

Each month I've been reading a letter from the ZOE missions in Zimbabwe, Africa to the congregation. The letter is written by ZOE founder, Greg Jenks, a minister in the United Methodist Church. The letters usually retell his experience in a village or school in Zimbabwe, describing a child or a group of children affected by the AIDS epidemic which has killed thousands and thousands of adults in that country, leaving behind as many children, orphaned. The letters tug at my heart, probably because Greg has ministered in our area, and because the work he does involves children, the innocents in our world.

The Zimbabwe Orpan Endeavor works from the power and strength of the donations, prayers, and the skillful hands and hearts of those who are led by God. ZOE brings food, medical care, educational materials, and hope to the children orphaned by AIDS.

There's no other way to put it. How else does one walk away from one's own comfortable home and family in this country, and fly into a bleak land which is losing their adult citizens daily to that deadly virus? How else except with the call of God beckoning you, and your own hope in the Lord? That is what Greg is doing in Africa, and that is what the missionaries who hear his story and who follow him there to offer their skills and ministering gifts are doing.

Yesterday, the children of our church picked up the little buckets they had decorated with pictures and scripture last month during Sunday School, and passed them around to help the ZOE mission. We were pleasantly surprised when we counted up the offering after the service. I was happy with the amount, surprised because it was more than triple the amount they had collected the month before.

But one little girl was thinking bigger than I. Oh, she put me in my place. She doesn't know it, but she showed great wisdom when she spoke.

When I told the children how much we were going to send to ZOE this month, the six year old said confidently "And next month we'll get more!"

How little my expectations are. I looked into her intelligent blue eyes. She had spoken what I hadn't even thought. I was feeling satisfied, thinking that we had done a great deed this month.

She was thinking we could do better.

I know there is a verse somewhere that says we shall be led by little children. It is late. If you know which verse I'm talking about, would you leave a comment for me?

Don't ever discount what a child says to you, especially when you think you know what's really going on. God works through children as well as through adults. I thank Him for that.

Flat has his own FlatWebsite

Will this ever end?

Flat Scalzi now has his own journal page! If you are interested in keeping up with his travels, wherever and whenever they may take him, just click on this link and you will be taken instantly to his own flat website.

Flat is looking healthy and restored despite his days on the road cramped in a plain brown envelope. He even wrote about his visit with me at school. That was so sweet of him.

Now I'm wondering how does a flat paper dude with fat pudgy fingers manage the computer keyboard? He could easily slip in between the keys and disappear. I know he didn't have a laptop with him when he came to my house, so now I'm thinking that Flat Paul in Ontario must have set him up. What kind of deal do those two have going? Or maybe he dictates and someone 3D types for him? Hmmm. That flat universe is getting more and more complicated.