nature Archives - Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach

Island of Refuge

Ann Kroeker — Mon, 18 Feb 2013 21:49:37 +0000

One spring break in college, my boyfriend and I traveled with our moms to Treasure Island, Florida, where his parents owned a condo. As soon as we walked in, my eyes landed directly on a poster of a shore bird in flight and though that photo could have been snapped at a thousand different locations, the caption read: Sanibel-Captiva.

“Where’s that?” I asked, pointing to the image that so enthralled me. His mom explained it was an island south of Treasure Island—two islands, actually: Sanibel and Captiva—which contained a large wildlife refuge.

Quite a contrast to the family fun of Treasure Island’s condo- and hotel-lined beach. That spring break, I recall the fun of shopping for swimsuits, playing Putt-Putt, and munching a hotdog outside while the strong sun freckled my shoulders. But I remained curious about Sanibel Island and its wildlife refuge. The idea of a quiet, natural, protected, set apart space captivated me ever since I first saw the words Sanibel-Captiva printed on that poster.

Over the past two decades, I’ve traveled with my family to Florida multiple times, usually camping in state parks. While the parks may not be official wildlife refuges, park officials and rangers work hard to maintain a habitat for birds and animals to make their homes that can also serve humans and their desire to enjoy a more natural setting for their outings. Still, as beautiful as the parks have been, I longed to visit Sanibel-Captiva.

Finally, two weeks ago, my husband whisked me away to that place of intrigue, and together we stayed on Sanibel, walking the shell-coated beach, tasting our first ever conch soup, and visiting the J.N. “Ding” Darling Wildlife Refuge where we saw gulls (below), egrets, ibises, ospreys, Anhingas (below), and Yellow Crowned Night Herons.

One afternoon, we stood along the beachfront of our hotel along with several other people when suddenly a dolphin swam so close, it was only a few yards from us.

“Look!” we pointed. And while we stood gaping at the glistening creature slipping in and out of the water, another man started walking toward it. The dolphin slid up, curved, and just before diving under, it slapped the surface of the water with its tail: slap-slap-slap.

The man smacked his palm against the water in response: smack-smack-smack.

I turned to my husband. “What’s wrong with us? We’re just standing here, and that guy’s going to have a dolphin encounter!” My husband just laughed, but we didn’t move. We just stood and watched.

The dolphin slid up out of the water again and slapped with its tail: slap-slap.

The guy smacked back: smack-smack.

One more time, the dolphin popped the water’s surface three times, and the man mimicked.

Then the dolphin worked its way further down the beach, away from us, toward Captiva. All of us stood in the water looked at each other wide-eyed, amazed, and the bold guy gazed at the dolphin for a long time, watching its dorsal fin surface as a small, dark shadow blending with the waves.

That man interacted with a dolphin in the wild, while we stood by and watched.

We’ve been home a few weeks, but I’ve continued to think back to that moment and wonder why I didn’t wade out, as well. I could make excuses, saying that I was afraid that too many of us would scare it away or that the water was so murky I couldn’t tell if I’d be stepping on some funky sea creature. But maybe I’m just afraid of risk.

Then again, this wasn’t meant to be a risk-filled, adrenaline-pumping vacation. After a full season of parenting and life, my husband and I intended for this to be a restful, relaxing respite. And it was. The island of refuge gave us refuge to refuel and return home filled.

But even now, sitting at my desk next to an empty cup of tea, I keep thinking of that dolphin, just a few yards out of reach, slapping its hello to the man bold enough to reach out.

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Curiosity Journal: March 21, 2012

Ann Kroeker — Wed, 21 Mar 2012 16:44:11 +0000

Each Wednesday (or thereabouts) I’ve been recording a Curiosity Journal to recap the previous week using these tag words: reading, playing, learning, reacting and writing.

:::

Reading

Hey, I finished grading papers! Maybe soon I’ll read something written by a person over the age of 18?

Playing

Our weekend away with friends was so relaxing, so rejuvenating, so restful.They know how to create a sanctuary.

root beer

Learning

Life is better with abundant sunshine and temperatures in the 80s.Of course, I’m not really learning that. I’m simply experiencing it—joyfully embracing, even wallowing, in this unexpected explosion of warmth and light—confirming what I’ve always known to be true.

Reacting

I jogged the other day down a path shared by scooters and bikes. As I plodded along, I heard a man’s sharp voice behind me, “Snap your helmet on. NOW.” Then he roared even louder, “Do it! NOW!”Two boys about eight or nine years old maneuvered around me, the second boy fumbling to click his bike helmet strap with one hand while steering wobbly with the other. Next in line, the father. Wearing a baseball cap. Behind him, another boy, his helmet straps dangling.Stern and fierce, the dad looked back at the boy behind him, who quickly felt for both ends of his loose straps and scrambled to snap them together.The dad glared at him, grabbed his baseball cap by its bill and lifted it from his head to wipe his balding head; then he stuck it back on and wiggled it back into the comfort spot.I almost said something to the last boy as he passed me—something about adult bike helmets on sale at Dick’s—but I thought better of it and stayed quiet. I watched them cycle ahead of me, those four boys—two of them still fumbling with their helmet clips—and the dad in his bright yellow baseball cap. They biked single file, the dad still barking commands, his voice fading as they rode up the trail.I wondered how many years will pass before the boys leave their helmets in the garage, assuming they’ve outgrown them.

Writing

My work appears in Mother Letters. I’m honored to have taken part…and, wow, I’m in good company.

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A Day Away

Ann Kroeker — Mon, 19 Mar 2012 14:19:08 +0000

Saturday we spent the day at a friend’s house tucked into the waking woods.Forsythia bloomed sunlight-bright against leafless brown bark.Along the slope leading to the pond lay acorns, scattered about like marbles and collected by the handful to be toted home in bowls and bags.Binoculars on hand inspired a search for woodpeckers that tapped the trees.Pine cones drooped from branches framing a peeper-filled pond, their spring song mirrored by tree frogs chirruping in the forest.A pot of sweet tea, a treat for me.

Many thanks to our friends, for creating a quiet place to rest.

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A Sacred Pathway

Ann Kroeker — Mon, 24 Oct 2011 01:35:43 +0000

On Friday, before speaking at a MOPS group about slowing down in our fast-paced world, I stopped to snap a couple of photos. Days of rain had given us nothing but gloomy gray skies, but that morning I awoke to the sun’s yellow bloom against sea-blue sky.I gazed, amazed, at a backdrop of red and yellow leaves, as if awakening in Technicolor Oz after several tiring, black-and-white days in Dorothy’s Kansas.Then I spoke.Among other things, I encouraged the moms to get outside with their kids and enjoy God’s creation as a way to interrupt the perpetual motion of our minivan-based lives. We need the calm, I said.Afterwards, I decide not to race home, but to explore a wooded area near the church, where a sign hangs from a thick beam: “A Sacred Pathway.”A leaf-coated gravel path weaves through trees.Along the way, benches with small crosses invite quiet moments of contemplation.Further in, a circle of rocks surround a fire pit.And a smooth metal cross boldly reflects light and shadow, even color, while proclaiming God’s love.The sun warms me, even though filtered through leaves. I feel the rock’s granite ridges and settle into a relatively flat, angled area that faces the fire pit.I look up.Sun.I look over my shoulder.Cross.I could sit here all day.But this Sacred Pathway is only a brief respite.I rise from the rock after giving thanks, and then slowly continue around the loop, pausing to note the beauty.Acorn caps lie atop beds of maple and sweet gum leaves bunched up where wind brushes them—nudges them—together.I look up from the soft watercolor arrangement and realize I am at the end of the path. The welcoming sign is blank on the back.Before exiting, I stop.Deep breath.I turn around and think how easy it is to give thanks in a space that posts reminders along the way.Then I pass under the sign and emerge from the shade of trees into full sunlight that glares off the asphalt parking lot.

My minivan awaits.

:::

This post is written in community with L.L. Barkat’s On, In, and Around Mondays writing project, Laura Boggess’s Playdates with God, and Michelle Derusha’s Hear It on Sunday, Use It on Monday.

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Tell me, what is it you plan to do?

Ann Kroeker — Sat, 10 Sep 2011 04:01:06 +0000

“Come quick!” my daughter exclaimed as she threw open the back door. “There’s a monarch butterfly on the driveway!”I grabbed my camera and ran out.Resting so very still at first, soft wings shut tight, the creature could have been at the beginning of its life, or the end.Then those wings slowly opened, full-color beauty spread flat against dull concrete.She moved slowly, carefully, leaning slightly to one side as if inebriated.Free of blemishes, so perfectly formed, I soon realized she was a new creation simply finding her legs and working her wings.Wobbly, stepping lightly on thread-thin legs, she crept up my finger.She lingered on my soft perch for a long time, straight and stiff. Then, wings pressed downward, body curved out, stretching, she prepared for flight.Poised, pondering, planning for takeoff…And then, she was gone.

Tell me, what is it you plan to doWith your one wild and precious life?(Mary Oliver, from “The Summer Day“)

[L]et me know how fleeting is my life…Each man’s life is but a breath.(Psalm 39: 4b, 5)

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Curiosity Journal: August 4, 2011

Ann Kroeker — Thu, 04 Aug 2011 19:16:38 +0000

Each Wednesday (except this week, when I missed my deadline) I’m recording a Curiosity Journal, a recap of the past week. Tag words are: reading, playing, learning, reacting and writing.

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Some of you have mentioned that you’re keeping a Curiosity Journal, as well. Leave your link in the comments so that we can visit and enjoy your weekly review.

Reading

The July 28 entry in My Utmost for His Highest:

What we call the process, God calls the end…His purpose is that I depend on Him and on His power now. If I can stay in the middle of the turmoil calm and unperplexed, that is the end of the purpose of God. God is not working towards a particular finish; His end is the process–that I see Him walking on the waves, no shore in sight, no success, no goal, just the absolute certainty that it is all right because I see Him walking on the sea…God’s end is to enable me to see that He can walk on the chaos of my life just now. If we have a further end in view, we do not pay sufficient attention to the immediate present: if we realize that obedience is the end, then each moment as it comes is precious. (Chambers 152-153)

This has helped me gain perspective in the midst of a massive traffic jam, patiently await the conclusion of a complicated business issue that has stretched out unresolved all summer, and accept various symptoms and flare-ups of a prolonged respiratory ailment. If I can stay in the middle of the turmoil calm and unperplexed, with absolute certainty that it is all right because I see Him walking on the chaos of my life just now, that is the end of the purpose of God. When I realize that obedience is the end, then each moment as it comes is precious.I’ve also been reading Breath for the Bones (not “Bones for the Breath,” which I learned from an Amazon search equates to doggie dental treats). As I look ahead to the chapter “Beginning with Journal Writing,” I see how critical it is as a writer—as a human being in this moment, in this place, in this world at this time—to capture sounds, colors, images, conversations, and follow them where they may lead. This is how I can go back and recreate a scene or interaction to tell the story rich with detail. This is how I can preserve and process life.Luci Shaw quoted Henri Nouwen as saying, “Writing is a process in which we discover what lives in us. The writing itself reveals what is alive…The deepest satisfaction of writing is precisely that it opens up new spaces within us of which we were not aware before we started to write. To write is to embark on a journey whose final destination we do not know” (Shaw 95).I must start writing and see where it leads, asking for the Holy Spirit to direct my steps and then pay attention, following His lead.Luci also quoted William Saroyan, “The task of the writer is to create a rich, immediate, usable past” (Shaw 96). Where and who I’ve been can be right here with me, in my journal, in my blog posts, in any personal narrative writing project.Luci describes a consistent, personal journal as a form of prayer, as the words poured out on the blank white pages “can free us, nudging us into the kind of confidence in the process that eases our way into writing as a way of discovering and articulating who we are before God” (Shaw 96). I have experienced this. Many of my journal entries slip from straight narrative or questions into prayer. This is why I am shy for people to peek, for how personal it can be.But it’s also a lively spot where the creative process unfolds; where I explore early project ideas. As Luci points out, in a journal we see how where we’ve come from and how we’ve grown.I’m glad to have bought the blank book with white pages, no lines. Just space. I can position the book vertically or horizontally, I can write diagonally or in swirls. I can doodle. I can make lists. I can jot phone numbers in a little unused corner of the page with sermon notes. It can be messy or organized; creative or ordinary. I can be any of those things at any given moment—why not have my journal serve as a true reflection of my curious, creative, messy, multifaceted self?

Playing

Haven’t played Bananagrams since we returned from vacation, but my family and I sure have enjoyed playing with photography. Will you humor me with a little slide show of sorts, a photo album, of our week of family camp? Despite all my talk of detailed journal-keeping and how that leads to powerful storytelling, I’ll spare you narrative and let the photos tell the story.

Learning

At family camp, I sat on one of the Adirondack chairs to talk photography with my friend, award-winning photographer Bill Vriesema, someone who knows the craft well. I learn so much from him, not only during these impromptu discussions, but also by enjoying and studying his images and reading how he approaches his work.

Reacting

My health status makes for riveting entries under “reacting.” Seems my respiratory system is always reacting for better or worse to something: allergies, exercise, medication, infection. For example, the doctor thinks that the sinus infection reacted well to the antibiotics but aggravated asthma. The result? Coughing spasms that sounded like a crackling bonfire was aflame in my lungs. Doctor has me taking more stuff. So far, so good. Coughing is calmed. For now.

Writing

Writing in my journal, per Luci’s inspiration.And here.Works Cited:

Chambers, Oswald. My Utmost for His Highest. Westwood, NJ: Barbour and Company, Inc., 1963. Print.
Shaw, Luci. Breath for the Bones: Art, Imagination, and Spirit. Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson, 2007. Print.
Question mark image: “Question Proposed” photo by Ethan Lofton. Used under a Creative Commons license via Flickr.com.
Butterfly and sparkling water w/rock photos by N. Kroeker, used with permission. Cove, lamp and Ann-leaning-on-post photos by P. Kroeker, used with permission. All other photos by Ann Kroeker. All copyright 2011.

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His Handiwork

Ann Kroeker — Tue, 26 Jul 2011 13:47:09 +0000

New life springs from decay; the rotting birch offers its fading strength to a cedar seedling.

A monarch drinks deep of summer’s sweetness.

Cloud formation streaks across blue sky.

Evening light brushes watercolor rose along textured storm clouds.

The Heavens declare the glory of God,and the sky above proclaims his handiwork.(Psalm 19:1)

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Hello, Sunshine

Ann Kroeker — Tue, 09 Mar 2010 03:45:00 +0000

Blue.

Beautiful blue!

It’s really you!

And not just blue.

Shadows, too.

Shadows. Blue.

It’s true.

Hello, Sunshine.

I’ve sure missed you.

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Sunset Kids

Ann Kroeker — Tue, 11 Aug 2009 12:55:22 +0000

(location: Muskegon State Park, Michigan)

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Food on Fridays: First Harvest

Ann Kroeker — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 03:19:43 +0000

(alternative button below)

Here at the Food on Fridays carnival, any post remotely related to food is welcome. Recipes are enjoyed, but you can just describe your system for composting, tell us about the first time you ate Ramen noodles, or reveal how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll center of a Tootsie Pop (the world may never know).In other words, the Food on Fridays parameters are not at all narrow. I think of it as a virtual pitch-in where everyone brings something to share; even if the content of one item is unrelated to the rest, we sample it all anyway and have a great time.When your Food on Fridays contribution is ready, just grab the broccoli button (the big one above or the new smaller option at the bottom) to paste at the top of your post and join us through Mr. Linky.Here’s a Mr. Linky tutorial:

Write up a post, publish, then return here and click on Mr. Linky below. A screen will pop up where you can type in your blog name and paste in the url to your own Food on Fridays post (give us the exact link to your Food on Fridays page, not just the link to your blog).You can also visit other people’s posts by clicking on Mr. Linky and then clicking participants’ names–you should be taken straight to their posts.

Food on Fridays Participants

Frugal Antics of a Harried Homemaker (Homemade Mayonnaise)
Kitchen Stewardship (Trying whole grains in birthday cakes)
Passionate Homemaking … Becoming P31 (Rainy Day Cookies)
Halala Mama (Sukuma Wiki–African Greens)
Feels Like Home (Teaching about honey)
Hoosier Homemade (Dr. Pepper cupcakes)
Cook with Sara (Creamy Brownie Frosting)
Newlyweds! (Easy Cherry Pie)
Glimpse of Sonshine (Many Dishes of Chicken)
Simply Sugar and Gluten-Free (Banana Walnut Cake with Date-Sweetened Chocolate Frosting)
Clash and Contradiction (Grilled Pork and Maple Syrup Sweet Potatoes)
Outward Expression (Becky’s Baked Beans)
Feels Like Home (Zucchini Eggs)
Meanwhile, back at the ranch (Black Bean Brownies)
It’s Frugal Being Green (Grasshopper Pie)
Sentiments by Denise (Asian Slaw)
Prudent and Practical (Fresh Blueberry Pie)
At Home ‘n About (Cool ‘n’ Quick Chicken Salad)

Food on Fridays with Ann

From the garden: zucchini, cucumbers, lettuce, and some spinach.

It’s not much, but it’s a start.

More Friday Carnivals

Is Food on Fridays not fun enough for you? Not in the mood for food? Check out these other great carnivals!

Hooked on Houses hosts Hooked on Fridays
Anne Glamore at My Tiny Kingdom is hosting Flashback Fridays
The Inspired Room is hosting A Beautiful Life
Amber at the run-a-muck is hosting Friday Funnies
Frugal Fridays at Life as Mom
The Grocery Cart Challenge Recipe Swap
7 Quick Takes Friday, hosted by Conversion Diary
Aloha Friday, hosted by An Island Life
Favorite Ingredients Friday, hosted by Overwhelmed With Joy
Fifi’s Fashionable Friday, hosted by Fifi Flowers Design Decor
Finding Freedom, hosted by Cents to Get Debt Free
Finer Things Friday, hosted by The Finer Things in Life
Four Foods On Friday, hosted by Fun, Crafts and Recipes
Friday Felicities, hosted by beckyperry.us
Friday Fill-Ins
Friday Show and Tell, hosted by Canada Girl
Photo Story Friday, hosted by What Works For Us
Say It Forward Friday, hosted by 5 Minutes For Mom

(a slightly smaller Food on Fridays button)

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Join Mega Memory Month for the month of July!

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Creative, Creation-Lovin' Kids

Ann Kroeker — Wed, 27 May 2009 15:05:58 +0000

Many of these ideas complement topics in a message I gave to a MOPS group a few weeks ago about getting kids out in God’s creation and encouraging creativity. I offered this for their newsletter, and now I offer it to you.Inspiring creativity and a love of God’s creation in kids doesn’t mean you have to move to a ten-acre farm in the country and raise goats. This summer you can take small steps to acquaint your family with life outside the air-conditioned walls of your home.It starts with placing a high enough value on getting kids out in God’s creation so that you are willing to carve out time and create appealing opportunities. Once you’re convinced it’s worth the effort, start experimenting!Moms who aren’t sure where to start or have very small children might like to simply step outside to watch the sunset each evening, even if the kids are already in their jammies. Or stay up even later one clear, warm night, toss a big comforter on the ground, and watch the stars come out. Learn a few constellations. Read aloud the creation account from Genesis 1 through 2:2.Another small step toward enjoying the outdoors is to take a daily walk. As toddlers progress toward grade school, the daily walk provides the continuity of a slow, healthy family tradition. Dress for the weather, and the kids will log strong memories of tromping through the winter snow and popping open umbrellas in the rain!Every once in a while stop and listen to a birdsong or ask what the air smells like. Touch tree bark and comment on its texture. This outing won’t get you too dirty (unless you let them roll down a muddy hill at some point!), yet you’ll heighten observation skills.Have your child select a tree on the path. Each time you pass it, note how it changes with the seasons. Find out what kind it is so that she knows “her” tree by name: “Let’s check on my shagbark hickory tree, Mom!”Add to the experience by playing “I-Spy,” (Person A: “I spy with my little eye, something brown…” Person B: “Is it that squirrel?” A: “Nope. Guess again!” B: “Is it that tree?” and so on.). Or launch a nature treasure hunt, listing things you’ll spot that time of year (e.g., tracks, chipmunks, flowers, birds, seeds).Trips to the zoo or a farm are fun and remind kids that the world is full of amazing creatures. Or, on a stormy day that forces you inside, nature shows and books can enhance understanding and appreciation of God’s creation, as well.Creativity is often taken to a new level when combined with outdoor play, so don’t forget the power of a simple cardboard box. It could become an airplane, bus, or spaceship. Or your child might turn into a turtle, crawling across the yard with the overturned box on his back and slipping under it to hide.Moms with energy and initiative may enjoy leafing through activity books and websites for ideas like making vinegar and baking soda volcanoes, folding paper to make pinwheels or whirligigs for the garden, or blowing bubbles!One final thought: Moms aren’t the only ones to get kids out and about. This week at a nearby park, I saw a young dad walking the path with a baby in a Snugli. Next to him toddled his slightly older child who was sucking on a pacifier while watching my kids splash in the creek.That dad is a reminder to us all: We aren’t solely responsible for getting kids out in God’s creation—ask a grandparent or your spouse to take them from time to time, so they can share the fun (and you can get a break)!Enjoy the summer!

On the off chance that your child would utter the words “I’m bored” at some point this summer, here are some websites with creative ideas:

100 More Things To Do When You’re Bored: Summer Edition (some of her ideas are geared for an older child, but could be done with mom & younger child)

How to Have Fun with Your Kids

101 Summer Ideas (the flashing sunshine clipart is really annoying, but the ideas are good)

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Rainy Days and Wednesdays

Ann Kroeker — Wed, 06 May 2009 19:58:45 +0000

On Thursday morning I’m speaking at a local MOPS group about getting kids outdoors in nature, enjoying God’s creation.When I awoke this morning, the gloomy skies were dribbling down rain on our already drenched lawn. I wasn’t particularly motivated to work on my talk and stated as much on Facebook.Immediately two friends responded. One pointed me to photos of her daughter playing in the rain; the other urged me to take the kids to the park to roll down hills and get muddy.These are activities I encourage here at the Kroeker house … we generally do not shy away from puddles or mud. And my friend practically quoted from my talk. I myself urge moms to open their minds (and washing machines) and get past their aversion to muck.So, take my friend’s advice, which is also my own.Get the kids some play clothes (garage sales and Goodwill will give you plenty of options).Boots are handy.Umbrellas optional.And then follow my lead. I took my own advice, hopped off my hypocritical duff and invited my own kids to slip into their play clothes and enjoy the rain.As one of my Facebook friends pointed out: if you do this, you get to be the Best Mom in the World.Not a bad title to earn so close to Mother’s Day, eh?

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Bike Lock Debacle

Ann Kroeker — Wed, 18 Mar 2009 23:22:15 +0000

As you now know from the title of my forthcoming book, we seek to live a slower life—a “not so fast” life. Plenty of people are living far simpler and slower lives than we are, but we’re making choices that do set us apart in our suburban area. One simple choice is to use our bikes as often as possible.When my four kids and I head out through the neighborhood on bikes, we stand out. Most everyone in our area drives everywhere, even for short errands. But we like to bike, so in spite of looking a bit odd, we do it anyway.Monday, the kids and I biked down to the library. The trip taken at a leisurely pace takes about 25 to 30 minutes. We were in no hurry, so we arrived more on the 30-minute side of that estimate.When we got there, three of the kids offered to use their safety locks and chains to link the bikes to the bike rack and to each other’s bikes. Two worked fine, but the third lock wouldn’t go all the way in.”Don’t worry about it,” I said. “It looks locked. I think it’ll be fine while we’re in there. Besides, some of the other bikes are connected to it, so it would be a huge hassle for a thief to undo them.”So we left it like that and searched for books, even kicking up our heels in a reading corner to leaf through some of interest before making our selections and checking out.We tucked our treasured titles into our backpacks and headed back out.That’s when the trouble began.That uncooperative lock wouldn’t budge. My daughter tried pushing it in and out, fiddled with the numbers of the combination to keep coming around to the right order, but that thing was stuck.Older sister spent five minutes with it, stomping in frustration.Two young men with cigarettes tucked like pencils behind their ears sat on a bench watching.”Did you forget your combination?” one of them asked.”No! We know the combination,” I said. “It’s just jammed or something. Are you good at this kind of thing? Would you be able to give it a try?””Naw,” he answered. “I had it happen one time and just cut it off.”I took over for another ten minutes, trying everything I could think of to jam it in before pulling it out, angling it this way and that.It was stuck, frozen, or rusted. Or just plain broken.Both my bike and my eldest daughter’s were freed, but the rest were woven together by the blasted lock.The kids started to voice their concerns.”What are we going to do?””What if we have to spend the night at the library?””Will I have to leave my bike here forever?”One child was verging on panic.”Now, calm down,” I warned. “The first rule in any emergency is to not panic. If you can keep your head on straight and think, you can come up with a next step. So…what’s the next step here? What are our options now? Let’s think together.”One of the kids suggested, “That guy said he cut his chain off. Maybe if we had a pair of scissors we could do that? Just cut it off?””Oh, it’ll take more than scissors to cut through this cable,” I said. “But it’s not a bad idea.””What about a pocket knife? A knife is better than scissors!” the Boy shouted. He turned to his sister who received a small Swiss army knife for Christmas. “Did you bring your knife?””No,” she replied sadly. “I didn’t.””It’s okay,” I assured them both. “Even a knife wouldn’t cut through this. You’d need something big. To cut through something like this requires a special tool.””Do we have one? You could bike home and get it while we wait here,” someone suggested.”I don’t think we even own one. It’s a tool to cut through thick stuff like this. I think it’s called a bolt cutter.””Maybe you could ride somewhere and buy one?”Hmm…”Not a bad idea,” I affirmed. An Ace Hardware wasn’t too far away, so we arranged for them to stay in the library together—our eldest two are babysitting age—and I pedaled off to Ace.Once there, I explained to the Ace employee that I was dealing with a minor emergency, bike lock stuck, kids stranded, blah-blah, could he direct me to a tool that could cut through a cable-style bike lock and chain? He started to take me to that aisle, and then asked me if I had any ID on me.ID? To buy a bolt cutter?No, an ID so he could loan me the store’s bolt cutter. “It seems a shame to have you spend all that money for a one-time use. Leave your ID with the cashier and borrow ours.”I could have kissed him.But I refrained.Instead, I smiled and thanked him, tucked the bolt cutter into my backpack, and pedaled to the library again.I called the kids to come outside and pulled the bolt cutter out of my bag.”Cooool!” two of them murmured admiringly.”Well, let’s see if they work,” I announced.Ka-chunk-a-chunk…ka-chunk.Ha! It took a few snips to get through all the cable, but it worked!The kids cheered.The young men with cigarettes kind of grinned, but they were too cool to get very involved with our wholesome bunch.We tossed the bike chain into the trash can and rode back to Ace to return the bolt cutter, secure my ID, buy four 25-cent gumballs, and make the now-extended journey home. The trip to Ace added several blocks.But we stopped at a beautiful town fountain along the way, and two of the girls snapped some pictures. One girl tossed in a penny that she found tucked in her jacket. We had found it on a jog a few weeks earlier. It seemed fitting to toss it back out into the world.Then I found a quarter in the road.”It replaces the quarter you gave me for the gumball!” the Boy exclaimed with glee.To get home, we rode along a walking-jogging-biking path. En route, we saw two squirrels with half-tails, chomped off by a dog, perhaps, or torn off during some wintertime escapade. We saw robins bathing in puddles and chipmunks nibbling nuts.A group of kids were along the trail tossing sweetgum balls and sticks at each other.We smelled a skunk when we rode under a big bridge.When we finally arrived back home, we were exhausted. We parked our bikes, flopped our backpacks onto the family room floor, and got big drinks of water.Then we settled onto couches or the floor to read and relax.Hours earlier, when we headed out, I thought our trip would take about an hour-and-a-half.Our bike-lock adventure made it twice as long.As I reflected on our three-hour outing, I thought about the life lesson the kids learned: that keeping our cool and thinking clearly (stay calm; don’t panic) helped us solve our dilemma. I was glad the kids witnessed and helped with it by contributing solid suggestions. And I thought about the man at Ace, who chose to be generous and helpful, even though it resulted in no personal gain.I thought about the slow ride home, and how we were able to enjoy it, even after the bike-lock debacle. We enjoyed our value of noticing what’s going on in nature, picking up on those little details that delight.And then…I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

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Yesterday in the Fading Light

Ann Kroeker — Sun, 11 Jan 2009 00:23:37 +0000

Yesterday in the fading light, the sun slipped low and peered up at the cloud-folds. They acted as a scrim to the softening sunlight, rays shining warm shades of orange and pale rose along the edges of stray cloud-trails.I was driving west on a country road and slowed the car down to take it in.No cars behind me, so I stopped completely at a four-way stop and waited.The colors slipped away, the sun pulling them down, below the horizon, the sky dimming.A huge formation of Canada geese honked and flapped. So many trying to stay together–they were sagging a bit. More of a U than a V formation. And northwest. They were flying northwest.Nearly silhouettes against the oranges fading fast to the soft remaining glow of blue-gray dusk, the geese suddenly jumbled.Wings flapping, big torpedo-bodies weaving, almost slamming into each other. A struggle of some sort? Would some plummet to the ground in such confusion?Then.Mid-air, they reformed.No longer one sagging U, they created three groups.One goose led the largest number. Together, tighter, they formed a perfect V.Only a few geese streamed behind the leaders of the other two groups, but they also were able to form a true V.The three groups kept pace, seeming to stay together–three groups with the same goal. Instead of carpooling, they chose to caravan.Also, this time, instead of angling northwest, each group pointed perfectly north.As I drove back home, I thought about the geese. I thought, Surely there’s a devotional thought here.Maybe.Or maybe it was just a moment for me to slow down and see.Instead of forcing insight, I’m simply enjoying the final tableau in my mind:Late-dusk deepening blues and purples.Three groups of geese.Arrows, aiming north, straight and trueToward home.

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Frost Etchings

Ann Kroeker — Mon, 22 Dec 2008 21:13:50 +0000

Morning sun slants across the wall.I slow down enough to notice.Intricate frost etchings — up high in the top pane — overlay the simplistic, monochromatic modern art.Soft shadows soothe.Frost feathers the window pane. Delicate wisps and swirls delight.How odd that the best views were found in the bathroom.None of the other windows or walls in the house offered the same soft touches of winter beauty.What have you seen today?

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In Which Holiday Decor Doubles as a Science Experiment

Ann Kroeker — Fri, 14 Nov 2008 02:21:59 +0000

One of my daughters shot a short video documenting the natural outcome of procrastination.While we were uploading it to YouTube, I asked her what we should title it.She suggested, “Gross Pumpkins.”So…consider yourself warned.[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VLme3Dlp3G0]

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One Summer-Fall Day

Ann Kroeker — Thu, 06 Nov 2008 04:45:25 +0000

Unseasonably warm temperatures reached the mid-70s today, allowing the kids to experiment with leaf inventions; they were unencumbered by pesky fall jackets or gloves and instead donned shorts and T-shirts.They raked leaves and jumped. They shook branches, raked more, heaped, leaped, tumbled, skidded and slid into the mounds.They created circles and walls of leaves. They formed leaf-armchairs and sat in them. They argued about rake-use and then took breaks to swing and slide.Flecks of crushed leaves and broken stems dotted their clothes and lodged in their hair.They pleaded with Papa to stay out longer. “It’s the last warm day!”Light faded, though; the temperature fell.They shook those leaf flecks onto the bathroom rug as they stepped into the shower to wash off the bits of soil caked on their feet.These glorious summer-fall days are like finding a Snickers bar at the bottom of the Halloween stash, when all we thought we had left were a handful of jawbreakers and a Dum-Dum.Mmmmm…..so sweet.

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Lake Michigan!

Ann Kroeker — Tue, 05 Aug 2008 04:19:34 +0000

Southwest Michigan

When I sat on the sand and watched the water crash against those rocks and send up that spray, I thought, “Why, this could almost be California!” Yet, we only had to drive a few hours to enjoy this Lake Michigan beach.I guess I was surprised that the lake was able to offer such an ocean-like display of power.But when on the drive home I phoned my parents and mentioned the impressive waves and crashing water, my dad reminded me that the Great Lakes are so tricky and treacherous, when a sea vessel enters the Great Lakes, a law requires that a U.S. or Canadian (depending on the route) Great Lakes captain board and help navigate alongside the ship’s captain.My mom also reminded me that the waters are tricky and treacherous by referencing the Gordon Lightfoot song from the ’70s, “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.”And we were also reminded of the tricky and treacherous Great Lakes as I finished reading aloud Paddle-to-the-Sea. It was a hit, by the way; yesterday, The Boy asked if I would read it again.At the last minute, we threw together this short camping weekend specifically to enjoy splashing and playing in Lake Michigan and to pick as many of these beauties as possible:Plump berries hung on large bushes in such abundance, we wondered if we had stumbled into the Garden of Eden.In fact, we picked several sizes specifically to illustrate the difference.(l to r) Garden of Eden berry, quite large berry, ordinary supermarket-sized berryWe picked and picked in order to freeze some that I can use freely in my steel cut crockpot oatmeal all winter long.We picked so many, in fact, we’re eating them right now for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. We’re snacking on them. We’re popping them in our mouths like popcorn.So fresh and bursting with flavor.Time for some baking.You’ve been such a great crockpot resource for me…does anyone have a home-run blueberry muffin recipe?

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Backyard Bounty

Ann Kroeker — Fri, 01 Aug 2008 03:28:35 +0000

It isn’t much, but given that I’m a novice gardener harvesting a small, weedy plot…

: Basil, cucumbers, zucchini, and tomatoes

I’m pleased.

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Crabbing in the North Sea

Ann Kroeker — Fri, 11 Jul 2008 11:20:34 +0000

Our last full day in Holland began first with some crabbing, or crab-catching, by the docks. The children were captivated by this as they waited for the adults to slowly roll out of bed and gather for those Sunday family devotions I described in the last post.

This crab-fishing activity evolved over the course of several days. First the kids observed others with nets and tried out various methods of snatching one from the cool waters of the marina.

Then one afternoon they watched as two Dutch kids successfully caught crabs using a simple, ingenious homemade contraption. It inspired a variation of their own.

Using an old hair clip donated by a generous aunt, some string from their craft bag, and mussels scraped off the pilings and cracked open on the concrete (for bait), they pieced together their own crab-catcher.

They tied the string to the hair clip, and the clip held the mussel meat. Then they lowered it into the water and spied for crabs skittering along the rocks at the bottom.

The unsuspecting, hungry crab snatched the mussel and started to munch when the kids slowly raised the string, lifting the crab out of the water as it held on to its mussel for dear life.

General commotion ensued as someone called for a net and several cousins joined in the process: One held a net under the crab, someone else brought a bucket, and yet another shook the crab loose from the mussel.By evening, my children caught a total of 17 crabs.

And because one can’t get enough of these glorious creatures, here’s a close-up taken later in the day:

Catching crabs from the North Sea…when you have an experience like that, who needs souvenirs?

Note: It appears that these are the European Green Crab, an invasive species considered “an aquatic nuisance” in North America. We want to go on record as stating we did not import a single crab to the United States. We caught them and set them free again.

In case readers are curious, we did not attempt to eat them.

And for those more concerned about the crabs themselves, no crabs were harmed in the filming of this blog post nor even during their brief time in bucket captivity.

The human handler in the above photo, however, was pinched by the crab just after I snapped the picture.

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Let the Little Children Sit by the Water's Edge and Come to Him

Ann Kroeker — Wed, 09 Jul 2008 20:50:43 +0000

Last Saturday, as we anticipated our last day all together in Holland—and given our little family’s impending departure, our extended family’s last day all together for a very long time—we considered where we might gather the next morning for family devotions.

We could have simply cleaned up from breakfast and gathered around the table in one of the rented cottages.

Then we thought of gathering at the dock, where the children had been so occupied scooping up shrimp, oysters, and crabs. But that was a fairly busy spot, and we didn’t want to be praying and singing alongside crabbers.

Then one of my sisters-in-law suggested we go along the water’s edge, past the volleyball court, to a little spot that was a bit more secluded.

We strolled along toward the spot, chatting as the breeze swept across us, cooling the air. The sun shone as we settled down on a bench overlooking the marina. The children wondered what brought them to this spot off by itself.Here’s the view from one direction:

Here’s the other:

We gathered to hear a story, pray, and sing a few songs.

The theme?

Let the little children come to Jesus.

The same sister-in-law who suggested this beautiful location told that simple little Bible story hoping to engage the youngest among us (her husband is next to her, holding cards in place that formed a little puzzle-picture of Jesus with the little children):

Then we sang “Oh, How I Love Jesus” in Kituba, the language of my father-in-law’s youth while growing up in Belgian Congo. The youngest children had learned it to sing at the 50th Wedding Anniversary fete, so they all joined in. Then we sang it in French and English. Whoever knew it in his or her language joined in when possible.

We sang “Jesus Loves the Little Children” in English.

We sang “The Wise Man Built His House upon the Rock” in French. Actually, everyone who spoke French sang it, while the rest of us listened.

Someone closed our time together praying in French and then in English.

Such a simple time in such a beautiful setting for all our kids to be reminded that Jesus warmly invited the little children come to Him.

And for all the big kids to remember that He invites us, too.

You.

Me.

Wherever we are—by the water’s edge, at the computer, in our beds at night, or while walking in the woods. Whether we’re half a world away on vacation or at home in the back yard, hanging up laundry, He invites us to come to Him.

He says we are to become like little children in order to enter the kingdom of heaven.

Mono Zola Yesu…Oh, how I love Jesus!

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Stone Crossings: Finding Grace in Hard and Hidden Places

Ann Kroeker — Tue, 10 Jun 2008 02:52:59 +0000

When I was relatively new to blogging, every once in a while I’d be scanning comments on somebody’s post and spot one by L.L. Barkat. I’d read the well-formed response and think, “Wow. That person’s smart!” I wasn’t sure, at first, if this person was male or female. No photo confirmed gender, and the initials L.L. didn’t help me know for certain. At some point I finally determined that L.L. was a female. Her website, when I peeked at it, included lots of poetry–deep, thoughtful poetry–alongside beautiful photography. All that creativity left an impression–so much so that I feel that as long as I’ve been on the blogosphere, I’ve been aware of L.L. Barkat’s phrasing, grace, and intellect.Then, what do you know, I found out she was at the Festival of Faith and Writing. Somewhere. I tracked her down and introduced myself.I told that story in this post. And because I didn’t scare her too awful much, she agreed to meet me again, which I mentioned in this post.She told her version in this post.And we took photos.She took a photo of me when we first met.And we took this photo of our schoolgirl-ish shoes during our lunch-chat:While at the festival, I bought her book Stone Crossings: Finding Grace in Hard and Hidden Places, but I only recently read it.My first thought was this: Some books are difficult to categorize. Annie Dillard makes it hard for librarians and booksellers to shelve her books, at least when they first come out. She doesn’t fit neatly into a clearly developed and defined marketing category.Similarly, Peter Mayle’s books about his life in Provence presented a similar problem, as bookstores didn’t know where to place them. Under travel? Memoir? Humor? Anthropology?To me, Barkat’s book Stone Crossings feels like it, too, defies categories. Or maybe it overlaps and embraces a variety of categories.Is it a devotional? Conversion story/Testimony? Bible study? Annie Dillard-type nonfiction nature book? Memoir?The endorsements offered on the back cover suggest that others recognized the same challenging, beautiful blend of elements:

“With a storyteller’s charm and a Bible teacher’s grit, L.L. Barkat weaves memoir, humor and spiritual insight together into a satisfying read,” Edward Gilbreath, author of Reconciliation Blues.”The beautiful and intelligent writing will pull you in, but the deep and uncommon insights will keep you reading…It is a book meant to be read slowly,” Steve Hayner, professor of evangelism and church growth, Columbia Theological Seminary.

And Scot McKnight, author of The Jesus Creed, said, “The only writer I know quite like L.L. Barkat is Eugene Peterson. That probably tells you all you need to know.”Wowzers. Scot says Barkat is like Peterson? No wonder I thought, “That person’s smart!”I don’t know if books that are difficult to categorize really are hard to market, but once I discover them, I have found them to be captivating reading.Stone Crossings was like that.Each chapter begins with a poetically written reflective piece, often weaving in something of her love of natural settings. The chapters then explore the hard places Barkat has been physically, spiritually, relationally, emotionally…and they celebrate God’s grace as He met, taught, and guided her through it all.Her personal stories, powerful and poignant as they are (the discreet but clear personal story that sets up the meat for chapter 2 proved to be a difficult, painful read), don’t necessarily serve as the centerpiece of the chapters; instead, they establish the theme. Within a few paragraphs, Barkat proceeds to highlight a character or story from Scripture, weaving in details and insight that reflect her spiritual wisdom, study, and depth of understanding.In Chapter 2, she offers a beautiful detail about the term “worm” when it’s used in Psalm 22. In this psalm, Jesus “cries prophetically through David that he’s a worm,” Barkat writes. She then explains:

[T]he Hebrew word here, towla, refers to a special sort of worm–a female that attaches herself to a tree before laying her eggs. Once she lays her eggs, this sacrificial mother becomes a protective covering. She dies right there, excreting a crimson fluid that covers both her body and her offspring.Such colorful artistry was not lost on the ancients. (p. 22, Stone Crossings)

That artistry and image was not lost on the ancients; nor, it seems, was it lost on Barkat. Nor was it lost on me, when I read it. The word captured long before Jesus was nailed to the cross is a picture of His sacrifice for us–He covers us with His blood. In Him, we’re saved and, ultimately, safe.I don’t want to tell too many stories from the book and keep you from discovering them yourself, but I was deeply impressed with the story she told about sacrificing her career. After her first daughter was born, she returned to teaching. She and her husband enrolled their little girl in a local daycare and dropped her off. “I was sad on one level,” she wrote, “but relieved to ‘get my life back,’ as I’d heard women say…But then my infant daughter made her own plea: ‘I want my mommy back.’ At seven months old she had no words to say this. She simply stopped eating in my absence.”The workers at the daycare tried everything to get her to eat, but she wouldn’t. Ten hours would pass, and she would refuse. She would be “dazed and unresponsive. She ignored my attempts to communicate with her. My lively, smiley baby was gone.”After two weeks, they took her to the doctor, who said that distressed babies sometimes go on hunger strikes.Barkat explained:

I went home that day knowing I was at a crossroads. My daughter wanted me, but I wanted a life. What’s more, I wanted a house. With my salary, we were on track to get one soon–a good-sized home in which to raise a family…[God’s Spirit] spoke quietly on my way back from work: ‘You can have a big house with nothing to put in it. Or you can give up the job and the house and fill your home with love.’ While God doesn’t necessarily ask every woman to leave work for a child, he seemed to be urging me in that direction and graciously promising, ‘I will make…your walls of precious stones.’ (Isaiah 54:12).As it went, I took him at his word. (p. 83, 87)

I was deeply moved by the apparent grief and confusion of her young child and the resulting call to sacrifice that L.L. felt that God was calling her to.In a later chapter, I loved her lengthy description of what the blind man might have experienced after Jesus placed mud on his eyes and told him to wash in the Pool of Siloam…possibly a long, stumbling walk as he tried to find it still in his dark world of mud-dabbed blindness. I had not considered how far the water might have been from the place where the blind man and Jesus met; nor had I registered that the man was still blind and smeared with mud while searching for it. Barkat took time to climb into that man’s shoes and tie his experience in with her own story.Finally, the story in the epilogue ties in the theme of stones in a highly personal way with Barkat’s extended family.It’s simple. Beautiful. And full of grace.That’s only a choppy peek into a book that’s packed with insight, honesty, poetry, pain, beauty, and grace.She has opened up her life for us to learn and grow.Through this book, she herself has offered every reader hope–by seeing the relationship with Jesus Christ she has developed in and through the hard places she’s been, we have hope that we, too, will find His grace in times of need.L.L. Barkat offers even more honesty, insight and wisdom over at her blog Seedlings in Stone. Pay her a visit, and you can decide for yourself if “that person’s smart.”

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Bunnies and Clotheslines

Ann Kroeker — Mon, 09 Jun 2008 03:46:11 +0000

I’ve never been good with laundry. Somehow I end up shrinking my favorite blouses and pulling pants from the dryer only to discover blotches of contrasting dye from a shirt that wasn’t ready to be washed with other colors.

At those moments, I am especially glad that I shop at Goodwill. Even though the shrunken blouse might have been a favorite, it is somewhat comforting to know that I’m only out about three bucks.

After suffering several such incidents (shrinking and blotching) in the past two weeks, I’ve been growing more and more anxious about getting a clothesline up. If I wash the clothes in cold and hang them on the line, they’re fine. No shrinking, and far less chance of colors bleeding.

A few weeks ago I’d tried to put up the old rope, but it snapped and all the clothes fell to the ground. I had to wash them again. Sigh.

The rope was too weak–probably it was out in winter weather and was used for some stretchy creative application by the young people in my family.

The past few weeks, life was so full of soccer and landscaping projects that I couldn’t even slip out and get a clothesline rope. I tried to pick one up when I was out and about, but they were sold out at Target and Wal-mart. I had to make a special trip to Menards. Thankfully, they had exactly what I wanted.

When I was off shopping at Menards, the oldest girl and a neighbor friend discovered that the dog had unearthed a nest of baby bunnies and seriously injured one. In fact, they discovered it because he had one in his mouth that squeaked. Our eldest heard it and called out, “Drop it!” The dog, the sweet spat-upon dog who was only being a dog, obeyed immediately. He dropped the bunny and the two girls rushed over to scoop it up.

The dog was sent to his crate inside, away from the bunny rescue mission. One bunny was a goner, but the one that the dog dropped seemed okay. Two more were untouched, huddled in the hole.

The girls crossed over into the neighbor’s yard and dug a hole for the remaining bunnies and made a soft bed for the one who had been most seriously hurt.

All of this happened while I was out. I got that whole story via cell phone while I was at Menards. I came home to get that line up, letting the dog out of the crate to roam the back yard again. As I started to hang my prized clothesline, I heard a panicked squeak come from, well, the dog’s jaws.”Drop it!”

He dropped it.

A bonus bunny that the girls missed.

A bonus, slightly injured, bunny.

So I set down my clothesline and scooped up the bunny in a little rag after sending the dog to the crate again, and ran it over to the nature-loving neighbors who are happy to rescue critters of all shapes and sizes (they even raise caterpillars from eggs to butterfly). We cleaned up the injured guy and put him with his siblings in the manmade hole.

The neighbors and I ended up talking for a long time about more than just bunnies. They offered me a snack, which I accepted. We talked more. The sun set. I walked home in the dark.Obviously, I didn’t bother with the clothesline that day.

The bunnies, by the way, made it through the night. Here’s a shot from today (Sunday afternoon):

We hope that the mama found them and is feeding them.

I finally got the clothesline up.

See the sheets wafting in the breeze? Isn’t that nice? The previously load was whites. The pure white sheets would have made a pretty picture for the blog, but I didn’t think of it before I folded that load and clipped up these colored items.

Technically, I’m not supposed to have any permanent clothesline installed, so I tie it to the end of the kids playset and weave it around the big tree.

Everything smells so fresh and hardly needs ironing.

I love it.

Clean clothes and bunnies. The simple life.

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Several Summer Solutions to "Mom, I’m Bored!"

Ann Kroeker — Wed, 04 Jun 2008 21:03:21 +0000

To avoid hearing kids exclaim “I’m bored!” in the summer months, it’s tempting to fill the weeks ahead with camps and clubs and outings and activities, isn’t it? Maybe we think, Keeping them busy keeps them out of trouble. Or, They gain skills they wouldn’t have time to develop during the school year.

And although not everyone will admit to it, there’s the argument, Signing them up for stuff gets them out of my hair!

At least that’s what I hear around these parts.

Well, our little family tries to embrace a slower pace as much as possible. We’ll be traveling for a couple of weeks this summer. We’ll do VBS at our church. We’ll walk to the neighborhood swimming pool. But most of the time is at home, where there’s a good amount of hanging out in the back yard playing with neighbors. We might tackle a big cleaning of the basement. We love to visit a park or a pond and get out in nature. The kids and I all enjoy reading in the hammock. Even the older kids still enjoy running through sprinklers and having a water balloon fight. And we sit on the deck at one of our neighbors’ houses frequently to sip iced tea and chat while the kids race around catching fireflies.

We limit technology while encouraging outdoor play and creativity. Oh, and we expect everyone to accomplish a few chores, too.

Plus, unless a kid turns destructive or defaults to technology, I think some boredom is healthy in our household. I wrote about it not long ago and linked to an article that reinforced this.

Practically speaking, however, I have used the long list of ideas from A Mother’s Manual for Summer Survival by Kathy Peel & Joy Mahaffey that I picked up at a used book sale one time (prior to that I had checked it out of the library). She includes craft ideas, recipes for homemade Play-dough and finger paints, and plenty of no-mess activities, as well.

I print out that long list out and post it. If the kids run out of their own ideas, the list offers things they could try to jumpstart creativity.

I also liked Steve Caney’s Play Book. It’s really dated–the kids look like they’re wearing the same clothes I wore when I was their age, and I’m old. Oh, I just looked it up to give a link, and it’s copyrighted 1974. That explains it. Anyway, it’ll take you back to a simpler time. For example, hand the kids some string or yarn and see what happens. You think they’ll look down on these low-tech raw materials, but just wait. You’ll see. I do advise, however, that you keep scissors handy in case something or someone can’t be unwound from whatever they’ve strung together.

We like the old, simple standby ideas, like making tents from sheets in the living room on a rainy day or in the back yard on a sunny day. We’ve even had our kids put up the family camping tent as a playhouse in the summertime. They’ve always wanted a clubhouse, but we never could get one built. This was a simple alternative–not the same, but fun in its own way. Last year, the younger ones would take their stuffed animals out there and play for hours.

Yesterday, some friends were over, and they all played “College.” They hauled out some old textbooks and pretended to study. This is an adaptation of their old standby, “Orphanage,” in which one of the kids dons a silly, matronly outfit and pretends to be the stern schoolmaster, and the rest anxiously copy down math problems from an old chalkboard we have in the basement. Or they diagram sentences for grammar class.

As I type, two neighbors are over, and they’re all plucking weeds and pounding them down into some kind of pretend soup.

At least, I hope they’re plucking weeds…and not…my new…plants…Hold on a second.

Okay, it’s fine. They’re working with dandelions and a patch of overgrown grass by the fence line where we should have used the weed eater. Whew!

That’s a nice segue to my final thought on the topic:

There’s a down side to letting creativity reign; the kids may dig where you don’t want them to dig or make messes when you hoped things would stay clean. I’ve tried to remind the kids to always ask before embarking on a construction project…to check with me before using something for one of their games. They do. Most of the time.

But we kind of gave up on a tidy house a long, long time ago. It’s not that I wouldn’t enjoy it. I’d like to have it neat and pretty. But I also want kids who are practicing problem-solving and innovation. Sometimes one must tolerate some chaos to embrace experimentation and invention.

Behind our house, the neighbor girl has formed a little secret spot under some fir trees. I can see from the pots and pans and plastic cups and buckets of cut grass that it’s served as a natural clubhouse, a place where imagination has run free and active. I love it. I hope she spends many hours in the shade of those limbs, thinking, wondering, praying, pondering life.

Don’t be afraid of summer. Don’t even be afraid of those words, “Mom, I’m bored!”

Hand your kids one of those lists and go back to whatever you were doing.

Unless they’re techno-addicts or have been shuttled nonstop from one activity to the next; unless they’ve always been told what to do, I doubt if they’ll be bored for long.

Here are a few tangible ideas:

One of our friends used shoe boxes when she was young to create a multi-story dollhouse. She used wallpaper scraps to line the insides and built little furniture pieces from American Girl doll craft instructions. She spent hours on that thing.
Write one letter–the old-fashioned kind–every day to send to somebody. Keep a list of friends and relatives, church missionaries, penpals, etc. The rising price of stamps makes it seem like a bit of a splurge, but it’s such a joy to receive something in the mailbox, don’t you think? Fold up some of the artwork your kids have created to include in the shipment.
Use wrapping-paper tubes to make a long track for Matchbox cars.
Fold cootie-catchers or paper hats.
Ask Best Buy or a furniture store for a big cardboard box. Bring it home. Set it in the yard or the family room. That’s all you’ll need to do, most likely. The kids can make soooo many things from a big cardboard box: it’s a boat, a race car, an international space station, or a Calvin & Hobbes Transmogrifier.

In closing, here’s the Play-Dough recipe from the Summer Survival book that I recommended above:

Ingredients:

2 C flour
1 C salt
4 t cream of tartar
2 C water
2 T salad oil
Food Coloring
Stir together everything but the food coloring and cook in a saucepan over medium heat until dough follows spoon and leaves the side of the pan. Cool and knead. Divide up and work food coloring into each blob until it’s got some nice intensity. Store each in airtight containers (I save up our cream cheese tubs and re-label accordingly).

Photo credits: all photos taken by Ann Kroeker

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A Brief Beach Tour

Ann Kroeker — Sat, 24 May 2008 03:36:09 +0000

Look who came along on our trip!The cute shoes you met one Monday FunDay stowed away in a suitcase. They couldn’t resist showing off a beach flower:And a bed of shell bits:Also, I wanted to show you the view today.Blue skies. Sun.Very nice.Our room is not exactly what one would call high-end luxury accommodations. The glass knob on the bathroom door looks very Shabby Chic:It’s more than a decorating style, though; it’s a really old door:But hey, it was an inexpensive place on the beach, which is giving us moments like this:Mmmm….Remind me again why I live in the landlocked Midwest?

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The End of Fun as We Know It?

Ann Kroeker — Mon, 19 May 2008 15:11:17 +0000

Until Robin pointed it out, I didn’t realize that there was a traveling carnival bopping around the blogosphere called “Fun Monday.” It’s shared by several bloggers, so there isn’t one central location (though Robin decided to set up a clearinghouse of all the previous Fun Mondays here).Today’s Fun Monday invited participants to post photos or descriptions of their collections–bloggers snap a few shots of their 54 salt & pepper shakers (S., are you still collecting those?), their 87 teapots (Mom, that’s for you!) or their cute shoe collection (might that include 95 percent of female bloggers?), post them at their blog, and link up via those comments.As I’ve pondered my own Monday FunDay carnival, I’ve concluded that I’d rather support another person’s Monday fun theme than try to compete.I am, therefore, shutting down the Monday fun theme, effective immediately.This does not, however, mean that I’m no longer having fun on Mondays! Perhaps I’ll continue to tell a story now and then to prove that there’s fun being had over here.In fact, here’s a story about our trip to the zoo last week. The Boy kept saying, “I want to see the rhinos!”While we were at the zebras, I leaned on the rail and admired them. We talked about camouflage and he said, “I want to see the rhinos.”“We’re getting there,” I said. ”I want to see the zebras first. We sure don’t see these in Indiana unless we’re at the zoo. Otherwise we’d have to go to Africa.”“Okay. But I want to see the rhinos.”We moved on from the zebras to the giraffes, where we paused and marveled at their height. We watched them nudge each other as they strolled around the trees. The Boy asked, “Can we go now? I want to see the rhinos.”“Aren’t you enjoying the giraffes? They’re amazing!”“Yeah, but I’ve seen them. Now I want to see the rhinos.”“We’re getting there,” I said. “I’m enjoying watching these two interact.”He sighed a little and waited. “Can we go now?” he asked after twenty seconds.“Yes,” I said. “We can go. The rhinos are next.”“Oh, goody!” he exclaimed. We walked across to a viewing platform and pondered the rhinos. What lumpy beasts! We read on the sign about how they are usually gentle beasts that other animals leave alone because of their imposing size and horn. I figured I’d have to settle in and wait as The Boy spent time with the long-anticipated rhinos.Within seconds, however, he said, “Well, let’s go. I’ve had enough rhino-ness.”I guess the rhinos weren’t as fun as he imagined. They stood around a lot, lumbered a few steps; one rubbed his head against a rock. They’re amazing, but not too animated. I guess I’d had enough “rhino-ness,” as well.As we walked on to see the elephants, I thought about how often I add “-ness” or “-ish” to words, just playing with language, to be cute. I wondered if this would be a bad habit and mar his middle school essay assignments in a few years?Well, I do hope you have fun today, in some small-ish way. Play around with language. Go to the zoo. Or consider photographing your favorite collection and hopping over to todays’ Fun Monday to share it with the world. In fact, leave a note here in the comments of this post, for one last Monday FunDay hurrah–-that way we can track you down and share in your fun.Also, if you already prepared something to participate in Monday FunDay, post that in the comments, as well, and we’ll pop over to see what you’re up to!Have a great, fun day!

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Time to Run

Ann Kroeker — Sun, 13 Apr 2008 04:04:00 +0000

Along the path to the Gulf we admired trees that don’t grow in Indiana–for Midwesterners, this is the stuff of postcards and screensavers. And yet, there we were, walking right past them, on our way to dig holes in the sand and make drip castles.Friday night we all took a long walk to what eventually became known as “Hermit Crab Cove,” near the place formerly known as my lonely place, which wasn’t such a lonely place after all. The walk back to the palm-lined path was lovely in the late-afternoon light, in spite of the clumps of seaweed washed ashore from whatever storm preceded our visit, stirred the sea, left that poor sea turtle stranded, and made for murky waters all week.The general sentiment on Saturday morning, as we walked that same path toward Hermit Crab Cove was expressed on the sand in another message:We were melancholy, wanting to linger and squeeze every last moment of beachy happiness out of our vacation, waiting until the last minute to pack up and drive off. We strolled, scribbled in the sand, admired the morning sun glinting off the water, watched a bird or two patter along the water’s edge, and checked out a brittle shell.Then someone glanced back and saw the sky behind us:Okay. Enough happiness.Time to run!A vacation bracketed by rain–on the first day, and the last.The fun is over.We now return you to your regularly scheduled blog posts…

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More vacation pictures–and a gross face-in-place

Ann Kroeker — Fri, 11 Apr 2008 03:32:42 +0000

It’s a nature bonanza here on the coast of Florida!

Last night, we fell asleep to an owl’s hooting. As I walked to the bath house this evening at dusk, I heard a mockingbird going nuts, singing a crazy medley of migrating birdsongs one after another fast and furious.

This Great Blue Heron hangs around near the fishermen. So regal. He moves with smooth confidence.

Fishermen along the beach keep plucking things from the water—things we’re not sure we want to know are swimming nearby. One boasted that he caught a stingray, a sand shark, and a sea turtle. We weren’t sure what to think, since the information first came to us via the fisherman’s 8-year-old son. Exaggeration?

Then we watched his line go taut and he started reeling in, struggling, pulling, reeling.

This is what he pulled out.

This impressive ray was about two feet wide.

This fellow provided me with my first “faces-in-places” shot; but I’m not sure it counts, as it actually is his face, if a stingray can have a face. Oh, and if you’re squeamish, maybe scroll past. He’s just had a hook plucked from his mouth.

He looks so sad, doesn’t he? He deserves to be sad, snagged from his home like that by a sport fisherman.

I think he’s crying.

I decided to share my lonely place with my extended family. My brother and I walked with the kids around the bend to what we coined “The Cove,” and there the kids discovered a sandbar. As they walked out to the sandbar in knee-deep water, they saw beautiful shells, perfectly formed. Plucking them from the water, they discovered that the shells weren’t empty.

They found dozens of hermit crabs in the shallow water of the cove of the lonely place.

Even I found one and took a self-portrait with him–he’s a little camera shy. Or maybe he’s embarrassed to be seen with the lady wearing that ridiculous red sun hat.

On our way back to the main beach, my brother and I were in front of the kids. I spotted a jellyfish. At first, I straddled it, so that they kids wouldn’t accidentally step on it.

“Kids!” my brother called out, “watch out for the jellyfish!”

They didn’t hear us or weren’t paying much attention, so to visually alert them, I used my toe to draw a big circle around it in the sand.

They were delighted with this communication, and started writing and drawing circles of all kinds. Here’s what our walk back ended up looking like:

The Boy saw all the scribbling and pictures, and starting drawing fish. “The kind that the Christians used to draw.”

“They called it an ‘ichthus,'” I said.”Oh! I wonder if people will see all my ichthuses and think, ‘Hey, somebody’s a Christian!'”

“Maybe.”

Then he saw all the messages his sisters and cousins were writing, and inspiration hit.

“Wait right here, Mama! Do NOT look at what I’m doing!”

He ran down the beach a short distance, then ran back to me.

“How do you spell ‘love’?”

“L-O-V-E.”

He repeated it to himself. “L-O-V-E.”

I repeated it. “L-O-V-E.”

He repeated it and took off to his spot. “Are you looking? Wait! Don’t look!”

“I’m not looking.”

He ran back to me. “How do you spell ‘you’?”

“Y-O-U.”

“Y-O-U…Y-O-U.” He ran to his spot repeating it. “Y-O-U. Hold on. Almost ready. Okay!”

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Trees

Ann Kroeker — Sat, 22 Mar 2008 23:45:53 +0000

In the beginning, God created trees.It wasn’t the first or only thing He created, of course, but He spoke vegetation into existence by commanding the land to produce it. And there came the trees bearing fruit with seed in them according to their kinds. God saw that it was good, and then He closed out the third day. Done.And to this day, we can think about trees, bearing seed according to their kinds: shagbark hickory, sassafras, dogwood and redbud. Apple, pear and persimmon trees; walnut, oaks, and ash. White pine, blue spruce, buckeye and willow. Beyond the woods of Indiana, there are palms and redwoods, orange and grapefruit trees; fig, olive, jacaranda and eucalyptus trees.It’s amazing to ponder the miracle of a tree. They begin so small: an acorn, pine cone, sweetgum ball, a whirlygig from a maple tree. From seed, to sprig, to a shoot with an ever-widening root system, it branches out, and a tender young tree stakes its claim in the soil beneath and the sky above, pushing toward the heavens.While it grows and changes, it faces seasons. With seasons, comes more change: from dormant winter to sap-rising spring, when buds, burgeoning, draw light from the sun to deepen through summer. Fall comes, and trees explode in vivid color before dropping their leaves to return to quiet, solemn, exposed outlines against the gray skies of winter.A Creator worked seasonal transformation into the bigger change of seed to tree. Change is good, He might say. Without it, there could be no seed, no future trees, no possibility for growth.Look at a tree if you can; study it, ponder it, sit under it, climb it, rub your hands over it. Then think of the tree and the change, the strength it develops as it lives through another season, another year, earning another ring deep within.Jesus was present at Creation, His voice somehow joining with the Father and Spirit, speaking everything into existence.What, then, was it like for Creator-Jesus to come to earth and be immediately placed in a manger, probably rough-hewn from logs cut from trees He Himself first sculpted? What was it like for Creator-Jesus to later become Carpenter Jesus?As He grew, Jesus would have been surrounded by wood shavings and sawdust, as tables, chairs, chests and cradles were constructed from bark-covered logs stripped by His earthly father, and later, by Jesus Himself.He would have learned what wood worked best for each piece, shaping it to fit His purpose: He may have carved designs into wooden chalices, whittled a knob for a drawer, and chiseled joints to form a solid bed that would bless some newlyweds. He would have known the earthy smell of freshly sawn wood and recognized a tree from the scent of its discarded chips and scraps flaring up in a fire warming His dinner.Imagine Him walking the rugged landscape of the Holy Land, made Holy by His presence there, pausing to lean against a fig tree, or reaching to brush his fingertips against an olive branch, privately enjoying the familiar feel of wood, known so well to His rough hands. Jesus even sought the cool silence of trees in the darkness of Gethsemane, as He agonized over the Plan.How did it feel, hours later, to be hauling His cross, the wood of a tree cut to destroy? The Creator, crushed under the weight of a tree. He felt it against His body, no chance or thought to run His hands over it with the pleasing realization that He had spoken it into existence. Nor would He have imagined it stripped of bark and smoothed into a chair leg or a spinning wheel. His mind was focused on other things, on a transformation He alone could understand…a transformation He alone could bring about.As the Creator-Carpenter hung, nailed to a tree, splintered wood was the last thing He felt as He let the greatest transformation of all begin.From that point on, true change, true transformation for each of us was possible. The Creator-Carpenter, as Christ…on a cross.Let us think of that, as we ponder a tree.©2002 Ann Kroeker

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Recycling Never Looked So Adorable (bonus: Save the Wolves)

Ann Kroeker — Thu, 17 Jan 2008 15:45:24 +0000

My friend Anita, designer/creator of buttery-soft, recycled leather handbags, launched a line of children’s backpacks called “Woof Packs.”

They come in different colors for both boys and girls—Anita said she’ll soon be making some in pink—and I think my animal-crazy kindergartener will go bonkers over them!

[Updated 2022: You may need to consult with the artist and request a custom-made Woof Pack, as she is no longer offering these ready-made.]

[Update 2023: Anita has retired, but I’ll bet you could show this image to other artisans creating hand-crafted leather bags and they might create something similar.]

Like ReFind Originals handbags, the Woof Packs are also made from recycled materials. They’re a practical, enviro-friendly, adorable way for kids to store and carry their treasures.

Plus, the bags are a reminder—to the parents, as well as the kids—of how greener choices in our everyday lives can add up. Even small steps lead, ultimately, toward more significant change.

“Woof Packs” have been spotted on the streets of NYC and here in the Midwest, as well. ReFind Originals would love to see endangered species like the wolf make a significant comeback.

Sometimes it just takes the buzz of a fun idea to get people thinking, learning, and talking about it.

To that end, I’d like to point you to a fascinating facility in Indiana called “Wolf Park,” where visitors are invited to observe wolf packs in a protected setting (the wolves are protected, and so are the visitors). It’s not a zoo-like setting or cages; the animals roam in packs on some acreage.

Scientists there are doing research to better understand the social behavior of wolves and work on developing handling techniques for human-wolf interaction. They believe that by studying wolves under semi-natural conditions in captivity, information can be gathered that isn’t possible to collect in wild studies.

At Wolf Park, these researchers can observe the wolves closely, around the clock throughout the year, getting to know each one’s personality. The organization focuses on education, research and conservation, sharing all that they learn with the public, inviting school groups and families to come visit.

They have a section on their website with lessons and activities to learn about wolves.

Why not pull out some paper and fold an origami wolf today with your kids while learning more about this misunderstood endangered animal?

In fact, go ahead and fold a whole pack, and listen to some howling while you work: Listen to wolves

** UPDATED ***

One of my daughters folded a wolf pack within minutes of this post going live:

_________________________________________________

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Find a pace that frees your family to flourish.

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—Lee Strobel, best-selling author of The Case for Christ

Buy your copy

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Wonder and Whirligigs

Ann Kroeker — Sun, 13 May 2007 12:00:11 +0000

It’s Mother’s Day. A day when I’ve been known to receive

a fistful of daisies

wilted dandelions

or even dried up whirligig seed pods from a maple tree.

Gifts of love clutched in a sweaty preschooler’s hand and delivered with love.

Tuck the collection into a vase. Position it front and center on the table.

Don’t compare with other moms who got champagne brunches, a bouquet of traditional carnations or a dozen roses, or even (gulp) a new dishwasher.

Water the daisies. Display the dandelions. Welcome the whirligigs. They came from the child, not Visa.

Then one day, two or three weeks later, take the child by the hand, grab that vase of whirligigs, head into the back yard and with her permission, toss them high into the air.

Watch them spin.

Catch some.

As they wiggle down and tumble into your hair, laugh and be amazed.

Life, love, joy, laughter, delight, wonder and whirligigs.

Who knew that this could be my life?

______________________________

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I'm a Midwestern Blogger: Sensible as a Wool Hat

Ann Kroeker — Mon, 05 Mar 2007 17:02:05 +0000

Ever since I discovered Scott Russell Sanders a few years ago and read some of his books that extol the virtues of firmly planting oneself in a physical, geographical place, I’ve been thinking about my place: the Midwest.The suburban Midwest, no less.I’ve always wanted to try living elsewhere, to escape for a time, to see what it’s like away from the mild, vanilla landscape that surrounds me.Never have.Fortunately, I’ve been able to travel enough to get a taste of other cultures and a feel for locations boasting greater variations in topography. I even married into a multi-cultural family, some of whom grew up in such places as Africa, Ecuador, France, and Belgium; yet, like it or not, I remain firmly planted in the American Midwest.You saw how gray it was here on my birthday. I think I worry that somehow my life lived out under such gray skies might in some way turn out a bit gray, grim, void of color and interest. I have a hard time appreciating my place, especially when I read people saying midwesterners sound like “rubes” (see comment #3 on this post). It didn’t help matters that I had to look up “rube”; it only further reinforced my fear of becoming one.Scott Russell Sanders has pointed out that most writers famous for writing about the Midwest don’t write about it until they move away. They seem to need that distance to achieve perspective and appreciation:

If Midwestern places are so grim and gray, why do writers keep recalling them, sometimes after decades of living far away? What draws the imagination back across the miles and years? The chief lure is the country itself; the forests, fields, and prairies, the wandering rivers, wide skies, dramatic weather, the creekbeds lined with sycamores and limestone, the grasses and flowers, hawks and hickories, moths and cicadas and secretive deer. Again and again in literature about the Midwest you find a dismal, confining human realm – farm, village, or city – embedded in a mesmerizing countryside… By turns cruel and comforting, the land holds them, haunts them, lingers in their memory and bones.Scott Russell SandersWriting from the Center(as quoted in this online article)

While I’m concerned about the effect of the “dismal, confining human realm,” if it indeed exists, I have focused more on the “mesmerizing countryside.” I’m trying very hard to appreciate the sycamores and limestone, cicadas and secretive deer. I guess that’s why I write about worms, crawdads, and trees.And I suppose that these topics–this humble, rural subject matter–have exposed my obvious roots. I shouldn’t be surprised that people take note.For example, when Mom in Action delurked to wish me a Happy Birthday, she wrote, “Your writing evokes a midwestern charm and perspective that I miss. I’ve enjoyed connecting with my roots again through your writing.” I was at first delighted–we’ve discovered via e-mail that we have a mutual friend and ran track against each other in high school–but the fact that my writing “evokes a midwestern charm and perspective” also makes me wonder if I should be a little embarrassed, as if I’m exposed as the rube I may in fact be. Should I be aiming for a higher level of sophistication, or tickled that my writing feels like a safe little country cottage, glowing and warm from a bright fire crackling in the fireplace?Am I so obviously a midwestern blogger?As I’ve been reflecting on these things, I happened to be reading Chosen By a Horse, a memoir by Susan Richards. She had to transport a sick horse six hours away (one way) for treatment just before Christmas and needed someone to ride with her.

I got out my address book and started going through it. As soon as I came to Dorothy’s name I reached for the phone. She was the right friend for this trip. She didn’t know anything about horses, but she was kind and loving and strong. She was the only friend I had who was from the Midwest, and it showed. She was as sensible as a wool hat.”Sure,” she said without hesitating. “I’ll make corn bread.” (p. 170)

I stopped right on that line and re-read the passage. Dorothy was from the Midwest, and it showed, Richards wrote. Some of the adjectives she selected for Dorothy were “kind,” “loving” and “strong.”I guess I wouldn’t mind being known as kind, loving and strong.Richards also described her as sensible–as sensible as a wool hat.Sensible is good.Sensible is…safe.Sensible is….woolen.Sensible is….midwestern.And I do make good cornbread.I am a wool hat.I am Dorothy.I can’t get around it: I’m a Midwesterner.

What American accent do you have? Your Result: The Midland “You have a Midland accent” is just another way of saying “you don’t have an accent.” You probably are from the Midland (Pennsylvania, southern Ohio, southern Indiana, southern Illinois, and Missouri) but then for all we know you could be from Florida or Charleston or one of those big southern cities like Atlanta or Dallas. You have a good voice for TV and radio.
The West
Boston
North Central
The Inland North
The South
Philadelphia
The Northeast
What American accent do you have? Quiz Created on GoToQuiz

And I’m dealing with it.

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Make Room for the Universe

Ann Kroeker — Mon, 15 Jan 2007 09:43:13 +0000

My friend John described a wilderness hiking trip he took with his son.

“No pop-up campers out there, eh?” I asked.

“Only what we could carry on our backs. We even slept under the stars.”

“No tent?”

“Nope.”

I must have shuddered or made a face, because John grinned and tried to convince me of the beauty of backwoods camping. “It’s liberating to realize that everything you really need is stuffed inside a pack on your back.”

I’ve thought about that often, especially when cramming my crockpot or mini-fridge into our pop-up camper. Could I fit everything I truly need into a backpack?

But I’ve also thought about it as a lifestyle. A lifestyle of liberation. What would it take to live that lightly all the time?

Maybe this is what so many people are craving these days when they are irresistibly drawn to simple living. Are we feeling imprisoned by stuff, weighed down by the accumulation of possessions, drowning in excess?

Sara at Nesting Gypsy and her husband have sold all but the barest essentials and moved to Montana. She first introduced me to Compacting in one of her posts. I was struck with this radical idea and started Googling it, learning more about the trend toward simplifying, trimming away what isn’t needed to live in, say, an RV full-time or a Tiny House.

It lines up with my own decades-long craving for simplicity and frugality. I’m not liberated quite yet, and I certainly don’t have family buy-in to try Compacting for a year. But we did have a fairly simple Christmas, at least by suburban American standards.

I’ve been reading Writing from the Center, by Scott Russell Sanders. When preparing for a trip into the Boundary Waters of northern Minnesota, Sanders and his daughter had to pack lightly. How does one decide what the take on such a trip?

The criterion for deciding what to load in a canoe or backpack is the same as that for deciding what to load in a spaceship: Is it worth its weight? Eva and I have winnowed down our gear and food to an amount we can carry. What we portage across land and paddle across water is only a tiny portion of what we need, of course. To provide everything we need, we would have to carry the sun and moon and stars, fruitful grass, fertile soil, nourishing sea, trees and ferns, bacteria and bears, rock and rain and air, and the countless moorings of our love. No pack smaller than the universe would hold it all. (p. 120)

Wow. I want to experience liberation from all the stuff holding me back because I think in the end, I crave everything—the sun and moon and stars, the grass and soil, the trees and sea—not the stuff from Target.

Is it any wonder I’d like to unload and live a liberated life? I want to make room for things that truly nourish.

I want to make room for the universe.

______________________________

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nature Archives - Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach

Island of Refuge

Curiosity Journal: March 21, 2012

Reading

Playing

Learning

Reacting

Writing

There’s always more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail Want to slow down in our fast-paced world? Check out Not So Fast. “Like” me on Facebook. Follow me on Twitter.

A Day Away

There’s always more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail Want to slow down in our fast-paced world? Check out Not So Fast. “Like” me on Facebook. Follow me on Twitter.

A Sacred Pathway

Tell me, what is it you plan to do?

There’s always more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail Want to slow down in our fast-paced world? Check out Not So Fast. “Like” me on Facebook. Follow me on Twitter.

Curiosity Journal: August 4, 2011

Reading

Playing

Learning

Reacting

Writing

His Handiwork

Hello, Sunshine

Sunset Kids

(location: Muskegon State Park, Michigan)

Food on Fridays: First Harvest

More Friday Carnivals

Creative, Creation-Lovin' Kids

Rainy Days and Wednesdays

Bike Lock Debacle

Yesterday in the Fading Light

Frost Etchings

In Which Holiday Decor Doubles as a Science Experiment

One Summer-Fall Day

Lake Michigan!

Backyard Bounty

Crabbing in the North Sea

Let the Little Children Sit by the Water's Edge and Come to Him

Stone Crossings: Finding Grace in Hard and Hidden Places

Bunnies and Clotheslines

Several Summer Solutions to "Mom, I’m Bored!"

A Brief Beach Tour

The End of Fun as We Know It?

Time to Run

More vacation pictures–and a gross face-in-place

Trees

Recycling Never Looked So *Adorable* (bonus: Save the Wolves)

Is every hour rush hour at your house?

Wonder and Whirligigs

Are the demands of motherhood keeping you from a rich relationship with God?

I'm a Midwestern Blogger: Sensible as a Wool Hat

Make Room for the Universe

Is every hour rush hour at your house?

There’s always more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail

Want to slow down in our fast-paced world? Check out Not So Fast.

“Like” me on Facebook.

Follow me on Twitter.

There’s always more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail

Want to slow down in our fast-paced world? Check out Not So Fast.

“Like” me on Facebook.

Follow me on Twitter.

There’s always more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail

Want to slow down in our fast-paced world? Check out Not So Fast.

“Like” me on Facebook.

Follow me on Twitter.

Recycling Never Looked So Adorable (bonus: Save the Wolves)