Guest Post: Some Favorite Family Read-Alouds

Today I'm happy to welcome my friend, author Alicia Brummeler, to the blog. Alicia's put together a great post about her favorite books to read aloud to children!

Some of my fondest memories of my children’s childhood involve books and reading together. Often we read before bed as part of our nighttime routine. During our homeschooling years, we also read during the day. On more than one occasion, I returned to the house after running errands and saw my husband on the couch with two children nestled on either side as they listened to a book (one of the many highlights of Brad’s graduate-student years). Not only have I enjoyed reading aloud to my family, but also, as an English teacher, I have enjoyed reading aloud to my students.

Whether you are a veteran or a novice when it comes to reading aloud as a family, I hope this post will provide you with some new titles or inspire you to try reading together as a family. Nothing beats sharing the wonder and power of good literature.

Some books seem particularly suited as read alouds. The beauty of the written word becomes even more elevated when spoken. The books I recommend below are those kind of reads. Also, my recommendations are best suited for elementary-aged children, with the exception of the last book. For this one, I recommend it for upper elementary-aged children. However, you know your child(ren). Use that knowledge to guide you.

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My family was introduced to Understood Betsy by Dorothy Canfield Fisher through Sonlight, the homeschooling curriculum we used for a number of years. Set in the 1900s, this is the story of nine-year-old Elizabeth Ann. Betsy, the name her New England relatives call her when she comes to live with them, has much to learn about herself and the broader world. At the beginning of the novel, she lives with her two elderly aunts; however, when they can no longer care for her, she goes to live with her cousins, the Putneys.

The beauty of this story is watching Betsy’s character transformation. She’s fearful, timid, and anxious at the beginning. Gradually, she comes to see that she is capable of much more than she ever imagined. As a reader and parent, I appreciated the way in which Fisher does this. She doesn’t moralize or try to “teach” her readers independence or resourcefulness. Instead, she uses real life and believable characters to craft a story that both instructs and delights. At the end of the novel, Betsy must make an important decision. As readers, we enter her struggle as she considers the pros and cons, causing us to feel the weight too. While I can’t remember the specifics of our conversations about this book, I do recall both of my children processing and discussing this story as it unfolded. Conversations like these are golden!

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As a child, my husband read The Great Brain series by John D. Fitzgerald. Once he was a father, he was especially eager to share the books with his own children. The book is set in Adenville, UT, in 1896. Eight-year-old John D. narrates. Using his “great brain,” J.D. entices his friends to pay him money for his various schemes. Think Tom Sawyer, charging his friends to whitewash a picket fence. Perhaps the most compelling parts of the book are some of the side stories that unfold. Issues such as discrimination, fairness, and bullying emerge. Discovering what true friendship looks like is also explored. Readers who enjoy this first book will be glad that there are more in the series.

A couple of years ago, when the flu hit our house, my daughter asked me to go to the library to check out The Great Brain. She remembered the series and in her hour of illness wanted to read a favorite from childhood. I happily obliged.

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For the past five years, I have taught To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee. Each year I discover new insights and truths from rereading the book. Brad read this book to our children when they were in the sixth grade. I think this is best way to first experience Lee’s masterpiece—read it aloud. Lee’s nuanced writing style and her rich vocabulary deserve a slower reading to enjoy and savor this beautifully-crafted story. There’s so much fodder in the book for discussion too—mistaken assumptions, family relationships, not to mention issues of integrity, racism, and self discovery. Like all quality literature, this is a book worth reading again and again. And, after reading the book, you can watch the movie as a family, which does a great job staying true to the book.

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My children are young adults now, in college and reading books on their own. Every once and a while a book we read together as a family will come up in a topic of conversation. Suddenly, we are transported to another place, reliving the scenes and the characters as if they were real events and people. We talk. We laugh. We quote lines of text. We experience the magic Emily Dickinson describes when she wrote, “There is no frigate like a book to take us lands away.”

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Below, I’ve included some reading resources that appear in my book Everywhere God; specifically, my chapter on literature. You can flip through these repeatedly to find book suggestions or to inspire and motivate you to become a better reader. Some of the books are especially helpful if you have children in the home and want to instill a love of reading at an early age.

Honey for a Child’s Heart, Gladys Hunt

Honey for a Teen’s Heart, Gladys Hunt and Barbara Hampton

Honey for a Woman’s Heart, Gladys Hunt

Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art, Madeleine L’Engle—If you want to read more about the intersection of faith and the arts, this book is a good place to start.

A Time to Read: Good Books for Growing Readers, Mary Ruth Wilkinson & Heidi Wilkinson    Teel

Books Children Love, Elizabeth Wilson

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Alicia is the author of Everywhere God: Exploring the Ordinary Places. She and her husband have a college-age son and daughter. They live on Long Island, NY. You can find Alicia at aliciabrummeler.com, on Twitter @ReadingAlicia, or on Instagram at aliciabrummeler.

This post contains Amazon affiliate links; if you purchase a book from this link, I receive a small percentage of the purchase price. I will probably use it to buy more books. (See full disclosure on sidebar of my blog.)

Gail Kittleson on Advent, Fear, and Following the Lord

Today I'm delighted to host a guest: novelist Gail Kittleson, who brings a reflection about Advent and about following God despite our own fear.

The Gospel message hinges on change. That precipitous day marking the end of our Advent season is fast upon us, bringing to mind Jesus’ clear instructions:

“Time's up! God’s kingdom is here. Change your life and 

believe the message.” (Mark 1:15) 

Unfortunately, human beings fear change more than a visit from the IRS. Change implies risk, and for better or worse, we cling to the same old ways, comfortable thought channels, and familiar attitudes. 

Changing means we’d have to follow in the steps of Mary, Jesus’ mother. Talk about life-altering experiences—she endured the rough donkey ride to Bethlehem and birthed her infant in circumstances that left much to be desired. What went through her mind as she greeted the scraggly shepherds and heard the angels sing?  

And Joseph—surely he realized by then that he’d given up control completely. But with his heart open to the Almighty’s plan, he listened for more guidance. And it arrived, albeit two years later, in the form of the Magi's gifts and another dream. 

In this season of darkness and expectation, much as we fear change, we long to believe and embrace God’s plans for us.  We balance our hopes and dreams in an ambivalent conundrum, for, 

"Progress is impossible without change, and those who cannot change their minds cannot change anything." (George Bernard Shaw)

Once, Advent’s forty days meant waiting for Epiphany, when the Magi visited the Christ child, God Incarnate. The Church focused on His Second Coming, but as the centuries passed, Roman Christians began to associate this season with the birth of Jesus.

So we have new birth juxtaposed with the loss of innocence—Mary and Joseph thrust into the adult world of danger and intrigue. Soon, someone powerful and ruthless will seek to kill their beautiful baby. Their “Yes” to God’s call brings unforeseen complications. 

Likely, ours will too. But the alternative is remaining in darkness and snuffing out that empowering expectancy that haunts us: expectancy about the future, about what we might do, about what God might do in and with us ... we pay a price if we deny light’s strong call. 

It took decades for me to dare to bloom as a writer. My experience parallels the atmosphere of Advent—desiring something deeply, yet hesitating out of fear. But on the other side, having shared my writing with the world, I wonder how I could have waited so long. 

Help us, Lord, to mimic the faith of Mary and Joseph. Give us courage, at whatever our stage of life, to seek your guidance and honor the light You give us. 

- Gail Kittleson taught college expository writing and ESL. Now she writes women’s fiction and facilitates writing workshops and women’s retreats. Her World War II series, Women of the Heartland is going strong, with In Times Like These published in April, 2016 and With Each New Dawn releasing with Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas in February, 2017. 

This post contains Amazon affiliate links; if you purchase a book from this link, I receive a small percentage of the purchase price.  (See full disclosure on sidebar of my blog.)

Praying Using the Anglican Rosary

Today I have such a treat for you! One of my favorite bloggers, Shirley from Under an English Sky, is visiting with us today and sharing about one of her favorite ways to spend time with the Lord in prayer.

On a recent trip to York Minister Cathedral, I picked up a small rosary. I had not intended to buy one nor had I had any thought prior to that visit about praying the rosary, but lately I have been finding my prayer life a struggle. I start off fairly well, but within minutes my mind is drifting and thinking of other things. I bring my focus back on praying, but it’s not long until once again my mind is off on its own merry way. If my mind is not dancing to its own tune, then I find that I am praying one minute and the next the sunlight is peeking through the curtains and it is morning! If you have struggled with the same issues then I do not need to tell you how frustrating it is. I feel guilty that after all Jesus has done for me, I cannot come before Him and be still. I cannot focus long enough to lay myself at the foot of the cross and commune with my Saviour.

Back to the Cathedral … I stood in the gift shop on the way out of the Cathedral and held a small rosary in my hand, I fondled the beads, allowed my fingers to pass from one bead to the next and pondered on the peace that comes from being in such a magnificent place of Christian worship. I wondered about the rosary, about each prayer bead and pondered if perhaps physically holding and moving my fingers over such an aid would be of help. We are high church Anglicans, but not quite Anglo-Catholic so the rosary is not part of my everyday life.  On impulse I walked quickly over to the counter before I changed my mind and made my purchase.

Since then, each time I come before the Lord in extended prayer, I pick up my rosary and move my fingers from each bead as I pray for each person, each worry, each praise that I offer up to God. Of course I am not by any means using the rosary as it ‘should’ be used, but that was never the intention. The goal was to be able to remain focused on my Lord and Saviour. And it’s worked! Having that physical object in my hand has helped me to remain focused, to keep my thoughts drifting off.

I have since done a bit of research and found that the rosary is not exclusively a ‘Catholic’ thing. The Anglican Rosary is used quite commonly by – well Anglicans – and Christians from other denominations.

The Anglican Rosary is a combination of the Catholic Rosary and the Jewish Prayer Rope. It is comprised of 33 beads (the traditional number of Jesus’ life). There is one invitatory bead followed by 7 beads each (week beads) with a single bead (called the cruciform) in between each set of week beads. There are no set prayers for the Anglican Rosary, it’s your choice what you pray. Of course the Book of Common Prayer is full of choices and inspiration if you cannot find the words – which happens doesn’t it? There’s a great little article here which might give you more clarity if you are interested and incorporating this tool into your own prayer life. 

I have found my small rosary to be such a useful aid. It’s easy to be surrounded by peace and tranquillity inside a church and feel your soul soar towards your Lord and Saviour, but when you are surrounded by the busyness of everyday life, pressures and routines, it can be a bit more difficult. At least that is true for me. My Book of Common Prayer and my unassuming (you get such pretty ones out there!) rosary has truly helped me to focus my prayer life more, and for that I am truly grateful.

My thanks to Shirley, and please be sure to visit her blog, which is a treasury of gorgeous pictures, yummy recipes, and encouraging words!

"The Sticky Little Ball . . . and 9 more tips for successfully learning a language (almost) all on your own"

Hi folks! Today I'm delighted to have a guest post from a globe-trotting friend who's written a little book I thought y'all might be interested in. He wants to keep his identity for a surprise at the end, so I won't introduce him here, but instead just say: read on! This is good stuff. :)  -Jessica

When it comes to things you and your kids can do to sharpen your minds, open new worlds, pimp your resumes, make travel more fun, be hilarious when you least want to be, and meet a whole new set of friends, hardly anything beats learning another language.

However, let’s face it: for most people, learning another language isn’t the exhilarating adventure it’s cracked up to be. What most people learn from trying to learn another language is that they can’t learn another language, which isn’t exactly the objective. I hate that about language classes and courses.

“I can’t learn another language,” you say.

“How do you know?” I ask.

“Because I tried it and I couldn’t do it,” you say.

“AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHH,” I mutter at the top of my muttery voice.

The thing is, most language learning courses promise too much too soon, so when you fail to meet your heady expectations, you decide you can’t do it. Think diets that promise you’ll lose 10 pounds a week for a year until you are nothing but a shadow with a big smile. Or exercise equipment that promises you a bronze 6-pack in three weeks if only you will do this one little thing. Those are marketing lies, but they manage to create expectations that make you feel like an abject failure when you can’t meet them. I will resist yelling ‘aarrgghh’ again.

I’ve learned several languages fluently. I’ve taught other people to learn languages fluently. My wife Tammy learned to speak Spanish on her own so well that she became a nationally certified healthcare interpreter for the hospital where she worked, without ever taking a class. I’ve worked with many people who are learning other languages, and many who have taken my classes in English and Spanish.

The thing is, the spirit is willing but the tactics are weak. Most language learning happens outside a classroom, but no one thinks to tell you what kinds of things are most helpful when you have snatches of time to work on it during your day.

So I wrote a Kindle book just for you: “The Sticky LittleBall …and 9 more tips for how to learn a language (almost) all on your own.” It’s a short, easy read, but the tips I give you pack a punch and will escort you all the way from beginner to advanced.

Whether you want to learn a language or you want to inspire your kids to do it, The Sticky Little Ball is a resource you can revisit often. It walks you through motivation, planning, listening, reading, packing a sticky little ball, rewarding yourself, interacting and more. It shows you how hot fudge sundaes and temporary tattoos are an integral part of language learning. It offers you a way to see the Scriptures in a whole new light through bilingual Bible reading.

Most of all, I hope it inspires you to sally forth again, eager to discover new worlds one palabra at a time. Bon voyage, y vaya con Dios.

Ron Snell lives and works in Costa Rica, where he teaches English to Costa Ricans, teaches Spanish to gringos, and guides real estate clients to properties that are beautiful in any language. Currently one of his great blessings is that he’s Jessica Snell’s father-in-law. Didn’t see that one coming, did you?


This post contains Amazon affiliate links. (See full disclosure on sidebar of my blog.)

The Unexpected

This is a guest blog by Ann Basil*, a law enforcement officer who works in Southern California.       

      No one expected the earthquake. It came unannounced and, without discretion, scattered everything violently. The quake came when I was not home. I return hours later to broken glass and tiles on the floor, the contents of cupboards and shelves strewn about, cracked walls, and a garage door that no longer functioned. Had I been told an earthquake was coming? Well … sure, look where I live. But I was not expecting it. I had not prepared, not really. A few days later I stacked my surviving bowls on the cupboard shelf and wondered, would these make it through the next quake?

            Two weeks later I found myself staring contemplatively downrange at handgun targets some 35 yards away. On my right was a tall, buff, swat operator. We were in training, and the current afternoon’s topic was combat shooting (how to shoot at bad guys who are shooting back). The week before, this same swat guy had dangled out of a helicopter, trying to get a shot at a man who felt the need to wandering around a quiet neighborhood, threatening people with his shotgun. The man had been taken into custody. “Yup,” the swat guy spit some of his chew on the ground, “it’s coming.”

            I squinted at the pieces of paper that represented murderers. “I just hope I’m there when it does happen. I would rather have it be me than one of my partners who can’t shoot.”

            The swat guy gently shaped his next wad of tobacco leaves and nestled them lovingly in his lower gum line, “That’s exactly how I feel. And it’s coming. There is some crazy person out there who is going to try and shoot up our people. But when he does, I am going to be ready. I’m going to get him.” We went through a few more hours of practicing cover fire and moving in leapfrog fashion down the range, killing paper bad guys as we went. We would be ready.

            The next Monday morning found me frowning as I read my Bible, “And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some as in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another – and all the more as you see the Day approaching … In just a little while, he who is coming will come and will not delay.” Before, to me, Hebrews had always read like a happy, “running with perseverance the race,” sort of read. Reading it today, however, worried my heart. My mind flashed back to the glass shattered on my floor, and the faith the swat guy had in the crazies that was so strong that he dedicated his life to training for that one day. And here, Jesus was coming, like a thief in the night. In just a little while. With no delay.

            My heart, like my house and my trigger finger, was not ready. Sure, I am a Christian. Sure, I love Jesus. Sure, I’ve been baptized. But I surely am not preparing for Jesus’ return as if it were real. I am not living daily as if I were about to be judged by the Almighty. There are shelved items in my heart that will fall and smash. There are reactions that I still need to practice and program into my heart so that they are automatic responses. There are strategies for living in a faithful manner that I have not mapped out and implemented. The coming of Christ, or the end of my life, will come without my preapproval. But it will come. I need to start living faithfully in expectation of this unexpected.

*a pseudonym.

Guest post: On Motherhood and Poetry, by Elena Johnston

Today I'd like to welcome Elena Johnston to the blog. Elena is a mother and a poet, and she's here today to share how those two vocations work together in her life.

These days, it's hard to write much prose.

Tonight is something of a windfall, though. I can't exactly go to bed until the load of vomit-covered bedding comes out of the dryer. Hence the midnight writing time.

This is how it always seems to go. During this season of motherhood, writing happens in the most unexpected ways. I take what I can get.

And usually, what I can get is verse. This time of life isn't conducive to prose, but it's a a marvelous time for poetry. My heart is almost unbearably full, and the words that rumble around in my head are more thick with meaning than ever before. I have a lot to write about, for the very reasons why I don't have time to stop and write. But thank God, formal verse actually benefits from multi-tasking.

When I'm able to structure my writing life well, my vocation as a mother improves my poetry, and my vocation as a poet improves my mothering. Poetry can thrive in the cracks and in-between spaces of a busy life, somehow nourishing what it feeds upon.

Prose is a (for the most part!) a luxury for people who can write their thoughts down immediately. For now, as I'm writing in the middle of things, I depend upon the age old-tools of rhythm and rhyme. The formal structures hold the thoughts in my memory until I'm done changing the diaper, until I've finished the load of dishes, or until I get to a nice long stop light.


As long as I make good use of the mnemonic assistance of meter and rhyme, the fact that I can't write my thoughts down immediately is actually a good thing: I forget all but the very best phrases, and much of the editing process happens painlessly and automatically.

My poems turn out better when I write them in the middle of things.

A little bit of organization goes a long way when it comes to maintaining this sort of writing life, and I'm never more than a little bit organized about it. Most of my poetry makes its way into the rotating supply of unlined journals that I try to keep on hand; still, I always wind up with a good deal of residue. We have a big clear plastic box where my husband religiously collects the scraps and snippets of poetry swirling around our living room. It's all a big jumbled pile, but at least it has a lid on it. The lid is important, but so is the chaos underneath. When I go through my work looking for things to build on and edit, it is good to see how all the ideas tangle together. Poetry grows out of the unexpected connections between things.

Illuminated manuscript of Cicero's Philippics, via Wikimedia Commons (PD)

The tangling vines of a country hedgerow figure prominently in illuminated manuscripts, and I love the metaphor. You leave a little space wild in order to mark off the cultivated spaces, and it contributes to a greater order. It reminds me of my favorite poem of them all, where there is evening as well as morning, and chaos, too, has its place, like night and the monsters of the deep.

photo credit: aaron.bihari, creative commons, some rights reserved.

As I work on my poems, I often fill the margins with vines. The orderly growth pattern provides structure for my doodling pen. Penstroke by penstroke, the orderly pattern grows into a chaotic jumble. And slowly but surely, I'm learning how to shape that jumble into a tidy border. A few stray tendrils will always poke out here and there, though, and I'm glad. The in-between spaces are where the poems grow.


You can read some of Elena's excellent poetry here. I love it all, but a few favorites you might start with are this one, this one, and this one.

Modeling a Healthy View of Food for Your Child (even if you haven’t always had one) - Part Two

Today I have the conclusion of Miriam Yvanovich's post on modeling a healthy view of food for children. You can see Part One of this post here. Find out more about Miriam at her site, BabyBellies.org. Now, here's the conclusion of "Modeling a Healthy View of Food for Your Child":

This is something that’s in progress, but here are few techniques I’ve implemented so far:

11)      Choose whole foods and avoid “edible food-like substances” for the most part.

22)      Coopt negative food language and make it positive.

33)      Talk about healthy choices but no food policing!

44)      Accept hospitality, even if it means eating food that goes against my usual healthy choices.

Choose whole foods and avoid “edible food-like substances” most of the time.

Feeding a (very) tiny,growing person helped ground my food choices and reevaluate what I was routinely putting in my body. Diet foods? Artificial sweeteners? If those were potentially poisonous and harmful for a child, were they really doing me much good? I knew that what I ate and my attitude while eating it would speak louder than any verbally stated rules or proclamations about health. So, I resolved to eat things that I’d be happy to feed my daughter. This meant that I migrated to more “whole foods,” though I definitely still use refined grains for her when she wants them: they’re calorie dense and easy to digest…really an awesome food for little ones who need to put on weight. 

Coopt negative food language and make it positive.

Now, this next choice is something I’m testing on my own. I don’t know if it’s the best idea, but here’s what it is and why I’ve chosen it.

As an English major, I’m familiar with the power of language to shape our opinions and actions.  A quick example: when you’re struggling through a workout or difficult task, and someone you trust says, “You can do it!” and you do? Yep, that’s at tiny fraction of the power of language.

There is so much negative, body-bashing, weird language surrounding food and our food choices. I’ve chosen to coopt some of those words and give them positive associations in our house.

Examples: We get excited about calories because calories are energy for our bodies and we love having lots of energy. We praise fat because it helps our brains develop. We get excited about protein because it helps our muscles grow. We make sure that our meal has carbs and veggies for vitamins, nutrients, and extra energy. My hope is that by creating positive connections with these words, I’ll help my daughters stave off the onslaught of judgmental, body-bashing, self-abusive terms that so many people use with them.

Talk about healthy choices but no food policing!

How do I handle “unhealthy” food? There aren’t many foods that I label as unhealthy because I don’t want to encourage that kind of detailed thinking about food in my preschooler. Also, since she’s in that “everything is black and white” phase of thinking, I don’t want her to negatively judge people who choose foods that I’ve labeled as unhealthy. So, we talk about foods that are “fun” to eat but don’t have lots of nutrition. So, we have them sometimes but not often. This includes soda. We never buy soda and I never give my daughters soda, but when we’re at a party, there’s always soda and someone inevitably offers them a sip.

Accept hospitality, even if it means eating food that goes against my usual healthy choices.

I want my daughters to eventually grasp that food has nuance. It’s not just fuel: it’s associated with emotion, celebration, tradition, culture….a whole range of beautifully complex applications. If they want to taste soda that someone offers at a party, they should feel comfortable doing so. Obviously, Panda (1) is too young for that, but Pixie (4) will usually ask me if she can have a taste but I always respond with a positive, “Sure! Go ahead!” The same goes for foods that are loaded with high fructose corn syrup and/or artificial colors. Again, these always appear at parties and family gatherings. I don’t want my daughters to learn to reject something that someone is offering in the spirit of hospitality and I don’t want to encourage orthorexia (believing that only “pure” foods are edible). So, if they *want* to taste it and it’s offered, I encourage them to try it.

The flip side of this is that I don’t want my daughters to feel pressured to eat just because someone wants them to. So, if they decide not to eat something, healthy or not, I have a couple of responses. If it’s an unhealthy choice, I respect their decision and they don’t have to taste it. If it’s refusing to try a healthy new dish or food simply because it’s new, they need to have at least one bite before making their decision (and I’ll offer it several more times in the coming months).

I try to never use the word “bad” in relation to food or food choices. When Pixie asked me why our sitter drinks soda “all the time” and if she’ll get sick because she drinks it so often, my response was that some people choose to drink lots of soda. We know it’s not good for their bodies, but we still love them, don’t we? And that’s it. Since Pixie is so young and tends to think about things deeply, I’m careful not to burden her with too much detail at this age. Also, the last thing I want her adopting is an obnoxious, “food police” mentality.

What about when Pixie tastes a not-so-healthy food at someone’s house and falls in love with it? This happened at her grandma’s house several months ago. Cheez-Its have an ingredient that is closely associated with/can contain MSG. I try to be vigilant about keeping MSG and its many, many derivatives out of our daily consumption. However, Pixie absolutely adores Cheez-Its and doesn’t enjoy any of their organic counterparts. So, I’ve simply told her that Cheez Its are something that only Grandma buys for her. Mommy doesn’t buy them, but Grandma does, and we can enjoy them at Grandma’s house.

For me, having this flexibility to say, “Sure, go ahead and enjoy that MSG containing snack while we’re at Grandma’s house,” was a long time in coming. However, it’s a decision I’ve made to avoid being disordered (aka, crazy!) about food and to try to model a balanced & nuanced approach for my daughters. This also means that I’ve let go of caring about judgments other parents may make about me if they see my daughter toting around her Cheez Its packet.

Another example is McDonald’s. I personally detest them, their food, and the farming practices that they encourage to obtain massive amounts of animal products at a low price. However, my parents occasionally get McDonald’s breakfast platters as a “treat” when we visit on the weekends. I’ve learned to shrug off my judgments and accept their hospitality. However, for my own sanity, I keep a bottle of pure maple syrup in their kitchen to substitute for the high fructose corn syrup/food coloring/artificial flavor containing syrup packets that come with those breakfasts. There’s only so far I can flex at this point. :-)

So there you have it: my (in process) two cents on overcoming a disordered, flawed relationship with food while parenting and feeding two precious little beings.  Blessings to you!

~

Miriam blogs at BabyBellies.org, a place filled with holistic tips to nourish and nurture your preemie (or any little one who needs some extra TLC). She is a stay at home mom, a fitness enthusiast, an avid reader, and a Pinterest junkie.

Modeling a Healthy View of Food for Your Child (even if you haven’t always had one) - Part One

Today I have the pleasure of welcoming Miriam Yvanovich, of BabyBellies.org, to the blog. Miriam writes here about motherhood, food, and self-image. Take it away, Miriam!

I grew up in a family that had a typical view of food: three meals and a couple of snacks per day, plus special desserts and dishes for birthdays and celebrations. I loved helping my mom cook and learned to associate making food for others as a way of showing love. 

Somewhere along the way, I hit puberty and started noticing how different *my* body was from bodies that I saw in magazines and in media. Now, mind you, we didn’t subscribe to any of these magazines, I never played with Barbie dolls (my mom called their bodies unrealistic), and I watched no television until age 10, and very little after that. I simply began to absorb images from the world around me, the library, magazines in waiting rooms, and my heightened awareness of how people talked about their bodies.

One day, while shopping for a bathing suit, I tried one on. Looking back now, I can see that I didn’t know my own size and grabbed one that was two size too small. I looked into the mirror and saw bulges and rolls. I remember seeing my face crinkle in disgust and I quietly spoke aloud, “I’m going to lose weight.”

I was 14. I was 5’ 3” and weighed 110 lbs.

So began my journey into anorexia. While I only lost twenty lbs, eventually weighing 90 lbs, my mental transformation into a calorie-calculating, fat-gram-counting machine was much more drastic. Eventually, all I thought about was food and how to avoid eating it. I spent hours reading as much as I could about weight loss, exercised as much as possible (although I eventually got so tired from caloric deprivation that I had to cut back), and ate the tiniest portions I could get away with. When my friends and I went out for meals, I ate as little as possible and then would “playfully” jump up and down on our way out to the car to allegedly help my food settle (but really to burn as many calories as possible).

As is the case in just about every disordered eating story, I got tons of compliments on my weight loss and learned to crave the validation of being “tiny” and “soooo skinny.”

After a year of this, I had an epiphany. I was 15 and had just graduated from high school two years early. I was about to start college, and as I lay in bed I suddenly realized that the world was filled with possibilities and fascinating, beautiful things to learn about and explore. This realization was so intense that my heart felt like it swelled with this knowledge and tears came to my eyes. I thought to myself, “I don’t want to think about food every waking moment.”

I decided to stop losing weight, and I eventually put on a few pounds, getting back up to around 100. Throughout college, I continued to have a very disordered relationship with food, and while I never went back to obsessive dieting, I thought about food and criticized my body and food choices far too often and too harshly.

Fast forward another 14 years: I’m 29 and pregnant with a baby girl.

I learn to fall in love with my body and its extraordinary, life-giving capacity. I learn to be gentle and caring toward the tiny girl growing in my uterus, and thus learn that my imperfect body, too, is deserving of gentle, caring attention.

I give birth and discover that my daughter is the most beautiful creature on the planet. Her stunning cheeks, tiny limbs, and soul-filled eyes are so utterly perfect and heart-rendingly beautiful that I cry when I realize that one day, she may look at her reflection and wrinkle her nose in disgust.

I resolve then and there to have a healthy, caring, joy-filled relationship with my own body so that she won’t see that self-hatred modeled by me.

But how?

To be continued tomorrow in Part Two . . .

~
Miriam blogs at BabyBellies.org, a place filled with holistic tips to nourish and nurture your preemie (or any little one who needs some extra TLC). She is a stay at home mom, a fitness enthusiast, an avid reader, and a Pinterest junkie.

Intervew with Anna Moseley Gissing

Hi folks! Today I have a treat - I got to sit down and talk to Anna Moseley Gissing, one of the contributors to Let Us Keep the Feast.  

Me: Hi, Anna! It's good to have you here today. You’re the author of the Epiphany chapter in Let Us Keep the Feast, so I wanted to start by asking you, what’s your strongest Epiphany memory, good or bad?

Anna: I did not grow up celebrating Epiphany, so my memories are all quite recent. A few years ago, we started allowing our magi (from our nativity scene) to travel towards the manger over Christmastide and to arrive on Epiphany. I have loved watching my young kids move the camel and the magi each day and seeing their joy as they announce to anyone and everyone that "It's Epiphany!"

Me: I love it when kids get excited about the season! So, what do you think the heart of the Epiphany season is?

Anna: To me, the heart of Epiphany is the recognition that the gospel is for everyone. The magi came from far away to worship Jesus even though he was born "king of the Jews." They did not have the Scripture, yet they followed a star to find Jesus and worship him with gifts fit for a king. These Gentile worshippers remind us that Jesus came for Jews and Gentiles. At Epiphany we celebrate that God in Jesus made himself manifest to people in new ways. Jesus is the light of the world and yet, He calls his disciples the light of the world as well. So it's a season to focus on sharing the light of Christ with others as well.

Me: That's beautiful, Anna. Reading and editing your chapter on Epiphany in Let Us Keep the Feast really clarified the meaning of Epiphany for me and gave me a much deeper appreciation for it.

And now I want to ask you about writing that chapter: what surprised you most as you did the research for it? 

Anna: What surprised me the most about Epiphany is how little seems to be written about it. When we consider this season a time to focus on the earthly ministry of Jesus, the time in between his birth and death, it seems odd that it should be such an overlooked time. 

Me: I totally agree! Okay, last question: of all the sections in your chapter, which one was the most fun to write?

Anna: It might sound dull, but I found the introduction the most fun to write. My goal was to explain both why Epiphany is significant and how it fits in between Christmas and Lent. In addition, I really enjoyed reflecting on the narratives of the magi and the baptism of Jesus and how they might shape our observance of this season.

Me: I think you really succeeded in that goal, Anna. Thank you for being here today!




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Christmas Eve in Jail

This is a guest blog by Ann Basil*, a law enforcement officer who works in Southern California. 

Christmas Eve night in jail yields a deeper call to reflection than the evenings I was blessed with at home as a child. The inmates write each other cards, color and hang paper stockings, and try to make alcohol, which we deputies try to find. But over the festivities there hangs a desperate sadness.

Jail is the ugliest zoo in the world, and pacing the hallways, outside the bars looking in, I see the lowest that humanity has to offer. Many, literally, look animalistic. Their unkempt hair, grossly infected skin, limps and grimaces of pain from poor decisions imprinted on their bodies, make me look at them as an observer, not as one of the same species. In here it is often them versus us. Not man versus wild, but healthy of body and mind versus the disease of sin made flesh.

The Bible is not exaggerating nor overly dramatic to claim that sin leads to death. It does. I have seen it. Death of the body, mind, and soul is a hopeless mold that, slowly or quickly, films over the once translucent lives of these inmates. Their first time in jail they are terrified and bewildered. “I am not coming back!” they emphatically state as they exit my doors. We deputies, often unknowingly, echo Jesus as we tell them, “Go forth and sin no more.” The next time they enter they weep, but still think they will make it out and away. Sometime between their third and fifth time they grow sullen, defensively hunched against the criticism of their own soul, and try to become callused to stop the pain of reality. About the sixth return to jail they grow accepting of their sins, only occasionally crying when a child or parent dies outside the bars and they are unable to say their last goodbyes. It is a creeping deathly state of the heart, which yields decisions that destroy the body. Most inmates are young because they don’t live to grow old. When they are 30 they look an unhealthy 60, and then many stop returning because they die.

It is in this place I find myself. I work at the end of hope, the place where human effort has failed and only despair is left. Here, buried in concrete and metal, is where Christmas comes. This place of walking dead, this cemetery of the heart, this monument to evil atrocities, even in this place, Christmas comes because life overcame death. Jesus overcame the grave. His blood covers our sins. Oh death, where is thy sting? Death, this vile noisome disease that walks the halls of jail with me, is not powerful enough to stop life. And as midnight strikes, Christmas arrives.

Christmas does not come loudly. It is quiet, gentle calming. This is the one night where inmates and deputies agree not to fight. The lion lies down with the lamb. The proud gang bangers order their troops to be still and the peace officers do not need to use force to ensure no disturbance causes injury and death. It is a sad time, but aptly sad. For who can look at themselves in the quiet and not be sad at their shackled state? And so there is sorrow at night, but joy comes in the mourning.

In this quiet sadness, reflection opens our eyes. We see ourselves and realize we are broken. We grieve the loss of ourselves, knowing we cannot regain what we have lost. We cannot fix ourselves. I cannot grow back a lost hand any more than I can grow back a lost life. If we could, there would be no jail. But there is a jail. There are inmates. This Christmas there are many who will not see their families because of sin. Sin separates us from what is good, from families, friends and God.

But God made a way to be reunited. He who created the Universe was pleased to create a way back to wholeness. And at midnight I walk the hallways of the jail. My inmates quietly go their bunks and ask for a Christmas song. “Something quiet, ma’am. Something to help us sleep.” And so, because it is Christmas, I let the Wexford Carol herald in this peaceful celebration of a life born in separation from society. Surely a manger and a jail have this apartness in common.

So I will leave you with the words of this carol. I know some of my inmate listened to it and thanked Jesus for his birth and confessed their need for his help. If these, the worst of the human race, can do this one thing right, then I invite you to reflect on their Christmas story and do as they did. In this area, you can do no better than these inmates. They received the best present and the only way to life.

“Good people all, this Christmas time, consider well and bear in mind what our good God for us has done in sending his beloved Son. With Mary holy, we should pray, to God with love this Christmas day. In Bethlehem upon that morn, there was a blessed Messiah born.”

*a pseudonym.

Lawless Men, Red-Lettered Days

This Sunday is Pentecost, and so today I'm borrowing an essay my brother, Joshua Barber, wrote, for blog-fodder. It's a meditation on what it means that the Holy Spirit descended on the disciples on the day that was traditionally celebrated as the day that Moses received the Law. Enjoy!
-Jessica Snell

Lawless Men, Red-lettered Days:
A Discussion on the Significance of Pentecost and the Holy Spirit in the Jewish Tradition as Compared to the Christian Tradition

If bliss with God is left only for those who fulfill the law perfectly in every way, then all are damned to eternity in Hell. This is the reality that we are all faced with, and before the coming of Christ the only hope for mankind was to adhere as closely to the law as they could, imperfect as they were. It is this slim hope of salvation which was being celebrated on the day of Pentecost in Acts two when the disciples that were gathered together there “were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues.” The Holy Spirit which was sent from God the Father through Jesus Christ His risen Son, who just fifty days before had instituted the first communion at Passover, and shortly thereafter died and rose again proclaiming their salvation from their sins and freedom through the Spirit from the law.
One of the reasons that Christ was given such a hard time by the Jewish community was because he preached of a final judgment according to what was in the heart of a person, not simply by a recounting of what they had done, what laws they kept and which they broke. “For what is exalted among men is an abomination in the sight of God,” that is, that those who seemingly keep the law perfectly, those who lord above others their piety and knowledge of the laws, are sickening in the sight of God. “For the Lord looks on the heart,” and not merely at man's outward actions. This was not the way that the Jewish community had been interpreting the words of God for many years, and traditions that had grown more out of care for the letter of the law rather than the spirit had were being kept just as religiously as the laws themselves. Christ spoke out against these traditions being held as though they were law, and for this he was hated by the Pharisees.
All of His teachings and actions that seem to go against the law occur after His having been baptized by John, and the Spirit of God coming down upon him in the form of a dove. At this occurrence the voice of God speaks from Heaven saying “You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased.” After this bestowal of the Spirit upon Christ, He goes out and teaches among the people for weeks upon end. Many of His miracles are recorded as having been done on the Sabbath, a thing that is against the letter of the law as given to the fathers of the Jews. But since we have been granted the sight of the Holy Spirit coming down with a blessing from the Father, we may know that what Christ does is lawful. Because He is filled with the Spirit, which is the same Spirit that should be at work through the law when it is being properly followed by the hearts of men, he can do no wrong. His healing of the sick and lame on the Sabbath is made lawful by the fact that He does these things in the Spirit of the law, both figuratively and literally.
It needs to be noted, and is noted quite explicitly by Luke, that Christ's earthly parents “performed everything according to the Law of the Lord” while He was young. By including this piece of information in the Gospels we are able to see quite clearly that Christ was in no way impure, either by the letter of the law or the Spirit.
He is the perfect fulfillment of the law; He is the only one whose “righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees,” and thus He is the only one who will be allowed to “enter the kingdom of heaven.” So we see that still, though the Spirit of God has come down to dwell in a man born of the flesh and tempted with all the temptations that befall mankind yet still pure, still mankind is not saved from the fires of Hell. His disciples, though they believe that He is God, are bound yet by the law that they broke before He was with them. They are not guilty of the laws that they appear to break while following Christ, for “have you not read in the Law how on the Sabbath the priests in the temple profane the Sabbath and are guiltless?” While they are with Christ, and doing as He does they will not be blamed for their actions, they are simply being like the priests in the temple. But they still have death to pay for the sins of their foolishness that they committed before Christ came and called them to be His followers.
Thus it is that He keeps foretelling His death, saying, “the Son of Man is about to be delivered into the hands of men, and they will kill him, and he will be raised,” for it is through this action that He is able to bring His followers into Himself, that they may be accounted His righteousness. So for this reason He allows Himself to be beaten, bruised and broken by will of those Pharisees whom He has so enraged by speaking truth, trying to correct their ways. He is tortured and rebuked, nailed like a dead animal to a tree and exposed to the elements and insults of His enemies. There, to the wonder and terror of all who love Him, He gives up His life.
Three long days of merciless silence ensue. The Heavens that rang with the voice of God at Christ's baptism, and the thunder of the Father's pain for His Child at His death, are now silent. Eleven disciples, without a leader to follow, passed these days in devastation: they had just watched God die.
But on the third day Christ's heart beat once more. On that third day, He called angels to come and move a stone for Him. On that third day, He showed the world that Death was overcome by Life.
Thereafter He appeared to the Apostles and assured them of His life, saying that He would send His Spirit to be among them after He had gone. And then He went, and they waited once more. But this time they waited assured of the hope they had found in their blessed Lord. They followed the laws and customs of their people once more, for Christ was not longer there with them leading them in the ways of the Spirit of the law. And as they gathered together for Pentecost, the day that the Pentateuch teaches that the law was given to Moses on, the Holy Spirit comes and rushes upon them, manifesting itself through the bestowal of tongues. It cannot be an accident that on the day they were to celebrate the giving of the law to the Israelites they are gifted with the presence of the Holy Spirit in such a way that they are forced through joy to go out and witness to the Gentiles in their own languages; allowing them the joy of “mak[ing] disciples of all nations.” This final bestowal of the Spirit on the disciples is a sign that they are now in the body of Christ and are filled with the Holy Spirit and pleasing to God the Father just as Christ was while He walked among them.
It is though this participation in Christ, through the Spirit that saves us from the law. But it is actually so much more than that. We are not above the law, nor are we outside of it; we are part of the fulfillment of the law through Christ, for “it is easier for heaven and earth to pass away than for one dot of the Law to become void.” Christ being the fulfillment of the law in a man made of flesh, and all the followers of Christ being made a part of Him through the bestowal of the Holy Spirit, making “one new man in place of the two,” so that we are not longer submitted to the obedience of the law, but to participation in Christ.
Thus, the Jewish tradition of Pentecost takes on a new meaning through the workings of Christ. What once was a traditional ceremony about a forlorn hope in a fallen world by a lost people is now made into a great celebration of the assurance found in the fact that the Son of God was here, and loves us so much that He died to make us one with Him, that we might not die and be made victims of Hell. It is because of this amazingly important role of the Spirit in this salvation process that Christ warns us that “whoever speaks against the Holy Spirit will not be forgiven, either in this age or in the age to come.” The Spirit is to be honored and glorified, once more this is fitting for the redefinition of the holiday of Pentecost: in place of the one salvation that the Jews sought through the law, we now celebrate the blessing of God as found in the Holy Spirit.
Acts 2:4
Luke 16:15
I Samuel 16:7
Luke 3:22
Ibid. 2:39
Matt., 5:20
Ibid., 12:5
Ibid., 17:22
Ibid. 28:19
Luke 16:17
Ephesians 2:15
Matthew 12:32