Little House Story Time

I’ve know that Gandhi said, "Be the change you wish to see in the world". But it’s been fun to see that in one aspect of our own little home. 

In the spring (last Spring, 2019), I was newly convicted about the importance of reading to our children every night at bed time. I have several degree is in early childhood education so I know the facts – I know the advantages proven to children whose parents read to them even 20 minutes each night. All that reading adds up day after day year after year. 

 Nevertheless, when bedtime rolled around each and every night, reading stories to the children was the last thing I wanted to do. I still had chores to finish, they always picked the same books over and over, and everyone crawled all over me to sit in my lap and see the pictures. Bedtime and stories was one of my least favorite times of the day. 

So, I decided I needed a change. If was going to start reading stories every night... and I knew the importance of doing so... we were going to read stories I wanted to read.

I started reading Little House in the Big Woods to my children over the summer. I told them they needed to stay in their beds and listen and there were not very many pictures so there was no reason to be in my lap. I promised to show them all of the pictures that were in the book, and we started. 

The first few chapters were a little rough as the children adjusted to the new routine, and they had plenty of questions about the very old-timey descriptions of Laura’s life in the big woods of Wisconsin, but they really liked the story. 

Now, about seven months later, we have read Little House in the Big Woods, Little House on the Prairie, Farmer Boy, On the Banks of Plum Creek, and we are several chapters into On the Shores of Silver Lake. I now love bedtime story time. 

All those months back, I decided that I wanted to enjoy story time if I was going to read every night and I knew I should read every night.  So although some of the language and history is over my children’s heads, story time/bedtime is a favorite now in this household.

Now, back to Ghandi.  

I pretty much put the kids to bed every night, but occasionally Hubby will. On those nights, the kids were excited that daddy was putting them to bed but bummed to miss a night of our story. So, Chris found his own chapter books to read with the kids.  Several have been about adventures through time in Colorado history, and now they’re reading the Magic Tree House series. 

I really have been the change I wanted to see in my household -- that my children love story time, are learning from the stories, are enjoying the stories, and it has carried over into how my husband does a bedtime routine as well. 

A few weeks ago, as we started On the Shores of Silver Lake, Jack the dog, who had been with the family since Wisconsin, passed away. It was a hard chapter for my children. We had to stop reading and let ourselves cry over the loss of Jack and then go find our dog, Lloydey and give him extra hugs and cry to his fur because we know someday our story will continue without him. 

This is the beauty of books and especially books read in childhood. To prepare my children with real heartache, for something that will happen in their life, but right now is just a very real story -- not real life yet.

I am so excited for these and so many other books I will get to read to them over the years.

Minds Blown!

This summer, as the kids lay in bed and are settling down and falling asleep, I've been reading "Little House in the Big Woods" to them.  It has been so much to read the book as an adult, which I enjoyed as a child.

The kids love to be read to at night (and of course, all research shows how important this is).  Well, I decided the kids are old enough to listen to a book that I want to read as opposed to three to five small picture books night after night.

They don't understand everything that I read -- let's be honest, as Laura describes how Pa makes bullets or how Ma makes cheese and butter, I don't understand everything that I read.

Well, we finished "Little House in the Big Woods," and went to the library to check out, "Little House on the Prairie," which we started last night.

The kids were listening relatively well as Laura, Mary, Pa, Ma, and Baby Carrie packed up and said good-bye to their relatives, and crossed the Mississippi River on the frozen ice as they set off to Indian Country.  They listened really well until the Ingalls crossed into Minnesota.

Minnesota took the cake...

Tracey: We've been to Minnesota.

Mama:  Yes we have.

Howard:  That's a different Minnesota.

Mama:  No, Buddy, that's the same Minnesota that we went through.

Caroline:  We went to Minnesota -- but they went to a different Minnesota.

...

and that is is the conversation we circled around for over ten minutes.

The twins especially could not comprehend how the Ingalls went to the same Minnesota that we visited.

Tracey could grasp the concept that it was the same Minnesota, but that they traveled a long time ago in a covered wagon, on a dirt road, and we traveled in a suburban on highways, but those sweet twins could not handle this information.

Caroline kept asking if the dirt road had lots of construction on it.  Howard kept insisting it was a different Minnesota.

Minds officially blown!

 

With Daddy

Daddy has his own way of doing everything with the kids and that's what makes time with him so special for our little ones.  Even story time has its own special changes when its story time with Daddy.

 

A Soldier, a Lab, and Adoption Make A Story Worth Sharing

I received the below story in a forwarded email and it melted my heart for so many reasons -- the lab, the owner getting used to the lab, the soldier, and the name...

Please enjoy this story, and say a prayer for our Service Men and Women, and those they've left behind... both the two-legged and four-legged 

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They told me the big black Lab's name was Reggie, as I looked at him lying in his pen. The shelter was clean, no-kill, and the people really friendly.

I'd only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the street.

But something was still missing as I attempted to settle in to my new life here, and I thought a dog couldn't hurt. Give me someone to talk to. And I had just seen Reggie's advertisement on the local news. The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the people who had come down to see him just didn't look like "Lab people," whatever that meant. They must've thought I did.

But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis balls, his dishes and a sealed letter from his previous owner.

See, Reggie and I didn't really hit it off when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too. Maybe we were too much alike.

I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten about that. "Okay, Reggie," I said out loud, "let's see if your previous owner has any advice."

____________ _________ _________ _________

To Whomever Gets My Dog:

Well, I can't say that I'm happy you're reading this, a letter I told the shelter could only be opened by Reggie's new owner. I'm not even happy writing it. He knew something was different.



So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with you.

First, he loves tennis balls. The more the merrier. Sometimes I think he's part squirrel, the way he hoards them. He usually always has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in there. Hasn't done it yet. Doesn't matter where you throw them, he'll bound after them, so be careful. Don't do it by any roads.

Next, commands. Reggie knows the obvious ones ---"sit," "stay," "come," "heel."

He knows hand signals, too: He knows "ball" and "food" and "bone" and "treat" like nobody's business.

Feeding schedule: twice a day, regular store-bought stuff; the shelter has the brand.

He's up on his shots. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet. Good luck getting him in the car. I don't know how he knows when it's time to go to the vet, but he knows.

Finally, give him some time. It's only been Reggie and me for his whole life. He's gone everywhere with me, so please include him on your daily car rides if you can. He sits well in the backseat, and he doesn't bark or complain. He just loves to be around people, and me most especially.

And that's why I need to share one more bit of info with you...His name's not Reggie. He's a smart dog, he'll get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. But I just couldn't bear to give them his real name. But if someone is reading this ... well it means that his new owner should know his real name. His real name is "Tank." Because, that is what I drive.

I told the shelter that they couldn't make "Reggie" available for adoption until they received word from my company commander. You see, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could've left Tank with ... and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq, that they make one phone call to the shelter ... in the "event" ... to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily, my CO is a dog-guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he'd do it personally. And if you're reading this, then he made good on his word.

Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my family. And now I hope and pray that you make him part of your family, too, and that he will adjust and come to love you the same way he loved me.

If I have to give up Tank to keep those terrible people from coming to the US I am glad to have done so. He is my example of service and of love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades.

All right, that's enough. I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at the shelter. Maybe I'll peek in on him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth.

Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight - every night - from me.

Thank you,

Paul Mallory

____________ _________ _________ _______


I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure, I had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even new people like me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously earning the Silver Star when he gave his life to save three buddies. Flags had been at half-mast all summer.

I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog.

"Hey, Tank," I said quietly.

The dog's head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes bright.

"C'mere boy."

He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name he hadn't heard in months. "Tank," I whispered.

His tail swished.

I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood him. I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my face into his scruff and hugged him.

"It's me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me." Tank reached up and licked my cheek.

"So whatdaya say we play some ball?" His ears perked again.

"Yeah? Ball? You like that? Ball?"

Tank tore from my hands and disappeared into the next room. And when he came back, he had three tennis balls in his mouth.

"The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him."
G. K. Chesterton 

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Thank you for reading, and have a blessed Thursday.

And, if you have an animal, please give him or her an extra hug, rub-down, or toss of the ball from me.  That animal's life would be so different if it were not for you.  Your life would be so different if it were not for that animal.

And, if you have a soldier, please tell him or her "Thank you" and shake his or her hand from me.  My life would be so different if it were not for him or her.  My animals' lives would be so different if it were not for him or her. 

P.S.  Just as I was re-reading this post, my little Lexie came up behind me and meowed.  She always seems to know when my heart is just bursting with love for her and just over-flowing from the story of another animal.  She and I just had a little cuddle/crying time in the middle of my posting this.  :-D

Decision Points: Thanksgiving Surprise

I really enjoyed listening to President Bush's book, Decision Points, which I finished a few weeks ago.

I have found it fascinating to hear another side of news stories that I lived and heard the "news" version of the stories and the information open to the public.

My favorite part of the book was when President Bush shared the story about his going to visit the troops in Baghdad for Thanksgiving 2003.  Baghdad was a war zone and President Bush made the trip with only a few people knowing... only a few people in the world knew he was making this trip.  He told his wife, Mrs. Bush, a few weeks beforehand, and his daughters 30 minutes before he left.

The plan was if ANY information about the trip leaked, they would abort the trip.

I found two youtube clips about the trip:

Part 1



Part 2



What I WANTED to find was a video of the surprise as President Bush appeared to the troops, but I will have to settle for sharing the dialogue from the book.  Enjoy President's Bush account of the arrival, visit and departure in Baghdad, Thanksgiving 2003 as written in Decision Points, pp. 265-266:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With the sun dropping on the horizon, I could make out the minarets of the Baghdad skyline.  The city seemed so serene from above.  But we were concerned about surface-to-air missles on the ground.  While Joe Hagin assured us the military had cleared a wide perimeter around Baghdad International Airport, the mood aboard the plane was anxious.  As we descended in a corkscrew pattern with the shades drawn, some staffers joined together in a prayer session.  At the last moment, Colonel Tillman leveled out the place and kissed the runway, no sweat.

Waiting for me at the airport were Jerry Bremer and General Ricardo Sanchez, the senior ground commander in Iraq.  "Welcome to a free Iraq," Jerry said.

We went to the mess hall, where six hundred troops had gathered for a Thanksgiving mean.  Jerry was supposed to be the guest of honor.  He told the troops he had a holiday message from the president.  "Let's see if we've got anybody more senior here...," he said.

That was my cue.  I walked out from behind a curtain and onto the stage of the packed hall.  Many of the stunned troops hesitated for a split second, then let out deafening whoops and hooahs.  Some had tears running down their faces.  I was swept up by the emotion.  These were the souls who just eight months earlier had liberated Iraq on my orders.  Many had seen combat.  Some had seen friends perish.  I took a deep breath and said, "I bring a message on behalf of America.  We thank you for your service, we're proud of you, and America stands solidly behind you."

After the speech, I had dinner with the troops and moved to a side room to meet with four members of the Governing Council, the mayor of Baghdad, and members of the city council.  One woman, the director of a maternity hospital, told me how women had more opportunities now than they had ever dreamed about under Saddam (Hussien).  I knew Iraq still faced big problems, but the trip reinforced my faith that they could be overcome.

The most dangerous part left was the takeoff from Baghdad.  We were told to keep all lights out and maintain total telephone silence until we hit ten thousand feet.  I was still on an emotional high.  But the exhilaration of the moment was replaced by an eerie feeling of uncertainty as we blasted off the ground and climbed silently through the night.

After a few tense minutes, we reached a safe altitude.  I called one of the operators on the plane and asked him to connect me with Laura.  "Where are you?" she asked.  "I am on the way home," I said.  "Tell the girls all is well."

She sounded relieved.  It turns out she'd had a little mix-up with the timing.  She couldn't remember whether I said I would be in the air at 10:00 a.m. or noon.  At 10:15, she had called a Secret Service agent at the ranch and asked if he had heard from President Bush.  "Let me check," the agent said.

A few seconds passed.  "Yes, ma'am," he replied.  "The are ninety minutes away."

She realized he was talking about Mother and Dad, who were on their way to spend Thanksgiving with us.  "No, I mean my George," she said.  The agent paused.  "Well, ma'am," he said, "we show he is in the ranch house."

Secrecy was so tight that the agents on the ranch were still unaware that I had slipped away for the most thrilling trip of my presidency.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Leading into this week before Thanksgiving, I am so grateful for those who protect our country near and far, especially when it means sacrificing holidays with their families.  I am also thankful for those who lead them.

What a Thanksgiving gift!

10@10

Once upon a time, in a place called Lexington, Virginia, at a school called Washington and Lee University, a student named Kierstin posed a new idea to the student Christian organization:

What if we had a place where students met for prayer Monday-Thursday, for 10 minutes at 10:00pm?

Most students were still on campus studying at that time, or about ready to wrap up studying and head home... or ready for a break from what might be an all-night of studying. How could the Lord work on our campus if students came together for 10 minutes of prayer four nights a week?

10@10 was created and continued on campus at least for the next three years that I'm aware...

How many times does God use a person to plant a seed... and that person has no idea what happens to that plant in the aftermath of planting? What Kierstin doesn't know is that 10@10 lives on still... in at least one household...

Last summer, I attended a service and the minister asked the congregation to think about a time in their life they felt close to the heart of God, and more in tune with His purpose in our life. Then ask yourself what things were happening then that are not happening now, and maybe pray about implementing those old habits as a way to come back to a place of closer fellowship.

When I pondered this question, I thought of my years at W&L and how different my Christian fellowship was as a student than it is now. Then I approached my roommates about how they would feel about beginning a household 10@10. We were all Christian women and had prayed together when one of us had a particularly stressful and emotional or joyful situation, but we were not carrying each others burdens daily by any means. Now 10@10 is a regular part of our week night routine.

Some nights we meet later, and some nights we can barely keep our eyes open at 9, and so we move prayer to be earlier... and is a RARELY only 10 minutes (more like 20@10) but it has created such a beautiful fellowship between the roommates and it has been such a joy to watch God move in each others lives throughout these months.

I often thank God that Kierstin answered His call 6.5 years ago and initiated 10@10.

Hidden Picture

It's time to play "Hidden Picture" game!
Do you see anything abnormal about this picture of my minivan's dashboard?
How about now?
Does this picture help you see it better?
Yes, that is my beautiful engagement ring about three weeks ago, when I was the genius who said to my wonderful fiance', "I think my ring is getting looser on my finger. I was at workout class and it nearly flew off when I did this..."

I then proceeded to shake my hands back and forth, and, as I had anticipated, my ring flew off my finger toward the driver's seat, TOWARD THE OPEN DRIVER'S WINDOW, and THANKFULLY ricocheted off Chris' fingers at the top of the steering wheel and deflected into the deep crevice of my dashboard.

It took four people, a small tool and about 20 minutes to get the ring successfully recovered. I am currently without my ring, but thankfully, it is safely at the jeweler's getting resized... not lost in a car dashboard.

Some Funny Stories

A few stories for a laugh... true stories, might I add...

My office is in the most recently built elementary school complete with motion-sensor lights to save electricity. As a result, I have been in a room on more than one occasion when the lights go off because it doesn't know you are still in the room. No big deal, wave your arms to let the sensor know you're still there, and continue working.

Today I was at a meeting at another elementary school. The lights went off, so I waved my arms above my head. The lights came back on, and I looked at the wall to see an old-fashioned, non-motion-detector light switch. I also see every person in the meeting staring at me with weird looks on their faces. I say, "Oh, the lights aren't motion-detectors" and my colleagues say "No, that was a power surge. The whole building lost power for a moment. Why were you waving your arms?" It was a great moment.

Another story from the week was that my roommate, Maggie decided to make popcorn using hot oil on Sunday afternoon. Chris and I were watching a movie upstairs and the doorbell in the movie rang. I asked, "Was that us or the movie?" and he responded "The movie." Then the smoke detector started wailing, and I asked "Was that us or the movie? THAT'S US!"

At first I just opened the bedroom window and started fanning the smoke detector, like I've been known to do when I'm cooking something on a griddle or in a pan that has a little more sizzle than I anticipated. It was not until I looked downstairs toward the kitchen that I realized, this is not light smoke of something slightly overcooked, this is billowing smoke of burning oil and we had started coughing like crazy. I opened the window in Maggie's room to get some cross-ventilation and Chris and I headed downstairs and out the front door where we saw a small pan sitting on our cement steps.

Luckily it was a nice day and we were able to air out the house in a matter of 15 or 20 minutes. Maggie didn't realize that the pan was on, so she accidentally left oil in a pan on the stove unattended and (THANKFULLY) when she moseyed downstairs, she noticed the smoke and was on her way to remove the pan from the burner when the lid fell off of the pan, and hot oil + oxygen... all the oil in the pan burst into flames. She quickly removed the burning pan from the stove, took it outside and then squelched it with the lid... fire out! Smoke remained!

The entire event was much safer and funnier than it could have been if that pan had burned unattended for any length of time.

We have a new roommate (Jenny) who wandered up from the basement, where she was taking a Sunday afternoon nap and walked with tired-eyes to the balcony. As we were debriefing as a house as to how we did during our impromptu fire drill, I commented that I was surprised Jenny didn't just walk out her downstairs door out onto the ground floor. Instead she came upstairs so she could walk outside onto the balcony. She started laughing hysterically -- she hadn't even thought about taking the nearest exit (her downstairs door), she just wanted to know where the batteries were to get her smoke detector to stop squawking. In her sound sleep of a Sunday afternoon nap, the only explanation she had for the smoke detector waking her up was that it must be out of batteries...

... Okay, so as I was typing these stories to a friend via email earlier today, the light in my office went off, because I guess it thought I was no longer here... and yes, I waved my arms above my head, and yes, the light came back on. I'm not crazy.

Any funny stories in your life lately?

January 13th; Adventure and Happiness

It was Thursday, January 12, 1984. Dr. and Mrs. Sanden had just bid their oldest daughter, Tracey, farewell on a Semester at Sea Cruise Around the World from Fort Lauderdale, FL. Tired and happy, Dr. and Mrs. Sanden piled into their 1978 Lincoln Continental to start the long drive back to Michigan. All was well along the old-fashioned, 55 mph interstate until they stopped at a gas station in Wildwood, FL... where Mrs. Sanden's water broke.

Now is where I should mention that Mrs. Sanden was 44 weeks pregnant with her first child (Tracey is Dr. Sanden's daughter). When the trip to Fort Lauderdale presented itself, Dr. and Mrs. Sanden weighed the risk factors, spoke to their obstetrician, factored in how much it meant to Tracey that they see her off, and decided to make the trip. Mrs. Sanden was not due until the end of February and their obstetrician had told them that Mrs. Sanden was right on schedule and to make the trip with peace of mind.When Mrs. Sanden told her husband, in the afternoon on January 12th, that she was pretty sure her water just broke, he couldn't believe it. Himself, a pediatrician, Dr. Sanden knew that in the worst case scenario, he could deliver his baby. But he also knew that the baby was 6 weeks early and if at all possible, he needed to get his wife to a hospital with a neonatal intensive care unit immediately!

Looking at a map, he saw the nearest children's hospital was 65 miles away in Gainesville, FL. He put Mrs. Sanden in the car and took off 70-80mph down the highway with his hazard lights flashing. He had hoped that a policeman would pull him over so he could explain his situation and the policeman might escort him to the nearest hospital... no such luck.

Dr. and Mrs. Sanden arrived at Shands Children's Hospital on the University of Florida campus in the early evening. Dr. Sanden marched up to the desk and explained that he had the utmost respect for this University, but that he was a Pediatrician from Muskegon, MI, and his wife had just gone into labor with their first child, "I do not want a student or a resident, my child is six weeks early and I want your head of obstetrics."

As Mrs. Sanden's labor quickly progressed, someone noted that they needed to get this baby born soon, otherwise it would be born on Friday, the 13th.
And Friday the 13th it was! A healthy baby girl weighing, 5 lbs, 13 oz, was born to Dr. and Mrs. Sanden on Friday, January 13, 1984 at 12:13 am.

Excited and exhausted, Dr. and Mrs. Sanden called a few close friends, and realized that they had NOTHING with them for a baby - no clothes, diapers, or car seat (although car seats were not so imperative in 1984 as they are now). Dr. Sanden went shopping for his new daughter -- diapers and clothes including a baby sleeper that said "Sweet Surprise".Expecting to have another 6 weeks to finalize their choice of names, Dr. and Mrs. Sanden had not agreed on a girl's name yet. Clayton Howard, if the baby was a boy -- but being a girl, she needed another name. Throughout the day on Friday, the Birth Certificate Man came to visit the Sandens and inquire about a name for their daughter. Time after time, they asked him to come back later.Finally, the man explained that it was now Friday afternoon; he would soon be leaving for the weekend and Dr. and Mrs. Sanden could not be discharged from the hospital until he completed the birth certificate -- including the baby's name.
Brooke Sanden would be her name -- no middle name, because when she married, Sanden would become her middle name, and she would always keep a piece of her father in her name. That is the sentimental and romantic explanation... The Truth: It was hard enough for Dr. and Mrs. Sanden to agree on ONE name -- forget two! :-D

With the baby named, they began the long and slow drive home to Michigan - Dr. Sanden driving and Mrs. Sanden holding baby Brooke in the backseat for the entire trip.

This story has become legendary for the Sanden family and those who remember that fateful day 27 years ago. This is the story of my coming into the world. I guess the Lord wanted to inform my parents from the very beginning that I would bring unexpected adventure and happiness into their lives.

Thank you, Momma and Daddy for leading me -- and allowing me to lead you through 27 years of adventure and happiness.