Reflection
Part I: Why I Chose My Pieces
When I first found out about Summer Institute I knew immediately that this would be an opportunity for me to begin writing about how my husband, Mark, and I met and came to be married. We have such a “Hallmark” story to tell. We actually talked about contacting Nicholas Sparks to tell our story. I now have the opportunity to tell it myself. I have included on my blog the first two chapters of our story. These chapters continue to grow as I write. I have to stop at times because the memory of some events are painful. I don’t want to tell it all because there are parts that are very personal. Chapter 1 is titled “The Unknown” for many reason. The unknown of tomorrow and the unknown of a person are only two reasons for this title. The title of Chapter 2 speaks for itself—“The Meeting”.
Another piece I chose for my blog was inspired by my daughter, Kaylin, when she was about 3 years old. Kaylin kept asking the questions while we were driving in the car. Another inspiration for this book was Harriet, You'll Drive Me Wild by Mem Fox. Mommy, Who Made the Sky? is a children’s book that I would like to have published someday. If not by a company then I will publish on my own to give to her as a gift. I am proud of this book that I wrote.
I chose to publish to the blog my found poem that we created from a demo by Dr. Rebecca Kaminski. “My Child” came from the words in a precious book One Tiny Turtle. I dedicated this to all who have been pregnant or they are pregnant. What greater blessing than to be carrying a child. Writing this poem let me see pregnancy in an entire new light.
Finally, I have included my professional piece. When trying to write a professional piece, I found myself writing an article. It continued to grow all from my demo. I wanted to give teachers another strategy to teach writing across the curriculum. When I learned of the proposal for SCCTE I thought that this would be another great avenue for my career. I have included my abstract for the UWP fall conference and the proposal. Attached is a hyperlink to my article.
I have included on my blog other pieces that I am proud of or they are meaningful to me. I plan to continue publishing to my blog.
Part II: Revision
The two chapters of my book began as one chapter. That one chapter continued to grow as I added my descriptions into my piece. Mike Rush wanted to know more about how I found out about Mark. In the second paragraph of chapter 1 I took his advice and added about Mary telling me about Mark. He also wanted to know if she had died. I did reveal that she had. Frankie Mengeling had asked a similar question about his wife. Frankie wanted to know how she died and if they had children. I don't plan to add that information for now somethings are still too painful. I don't even plan to add the death of my husband. I feel that this is not about them, it's about us. Brian Slusher responded on e-anthology to the first chapter. The current piece had not been posted yet when he responded. I do agree with him about more dialogue on the phone with Mark. I do remember some conversations. Before reading his response I had already add information based on an idea from Kristen Gault.
It was after midnight when I finally completed the fourth draft. I sat in the dark of my house and reflected on what I had written and where my life and gone wrong. I wanted the night to end so that I could make the trip to the mailbox.
“Why did we have to build such a long driveway,” I thought to myself as I walked to the mailbox at the end of the road. The road seemed longer now. I could turn around. I don’t have to do this. He would never know because he doesn’t even know I exist. I continued on my quest. I was taught that you finish what you start. Did it really apply this time? As I approached my mailbox my heart began to race. I opened the door of the box as if something would jump out and bite me. I carefully placed the card and letter in the box treating it as if it was a delicate piece of china. I closed the door and raised the red flag at attention. It was done. I turned around knowing that I would not go back to retrieve it. This was something that had to be done. My quest for the day was over. Relief had not set in. I had no idea how lives would be changed from that day forward.
Brian also suggested added excerpt from the letter. I do not want to do this. I feel that the letter is very personal. I might consider adding what the card said since I did just say that it was simple. This part of the book is not complete. I know I will revise and edit many times.
Mommy, Who Made the Sky? had many revisions. As I wrote this book I began changing the order of the questions. Kaylin did not ask all of the questions in the book. I added questions and order based on Genesis. Erica Sweatman first responded by asking me who the audience is in the book. She made the suggestion of showing the aggravation and took that advice. Later there were some more responses made by readers on the e-anthology. The same questions were asked of others about the audience. After discussing with Erica and reading the responses I revised from first person to third person. I did follow the advice of Angie Neal other responders to adding a verse at the end to bring together the love of a mother and daughter.
I did not make revisions to my found poem or my abstract. After listening to others talk in class I will change the "you" in my abstract to "the teacher" or they.
Part III: What I Learned From My Colleagues/Classmates:
Paige Eubanks presented a demo on adjectives that really made me think about pictures being painted in the minds of the reader. As I revised I tried to imagine the pictures painted. I know what I see because I have experienced what I have written about. What pictures would the readers have in their minds? I tried to make sure that I did add adjectives and descriptions of the events. I wanted to "show" not "tell" in my pieces. I still need to work on a few areas of my short story.
I read Angie Kiker's "Flatulent Free" story and laughed myself silly. I liked the flashbacks in her story. I would like to try the flashbacks in my story of how I met my husband. Even Kristen Gault did this in her wedding story. I liked how she would flashback during the wedding. I am hoping to use more of this technique as I write.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Professional Article Biographies Alive
Abstract
“Biographies are long and boring. I don’t want to read another one!” Sound familiar? Don’t worry with Biographies Alive you will never have to read another long and dull biography of a famous person again. Biographies Alive will have students focusing on the exciting ways to write. Teachers will participate in a comparison strategy comparing the boring biographical books to the exciting “I want to read more” books and other forms of genres. They will be able to take the strategy back to their classrooms and immediately apply it. You will be presented with research to support writing across the curriculum. This strategy can be used in all content areas. I will present classroom photographs on how this was presented in my room and how it can be taken even further to produce outstanding writing and performances in the classroom. You will have yours students bringing to life creative and exciting anecdotes, posters, poems, magazine articles, front page newspaper articles focusing on one area of a person’s life. Handouts to guide you in your classroom will be provided.
This abstract will be used for fall UWP writing conference and proposal to the SCCTE conference in January. Please click on the link below to read the article based on my teaching demo.
http://upstate-writing-project.googlegroups.com/web/Research%20for%20Teaching%20Demo.doc?gda=KDPDG08AAADupV1lf2IqFakER66vrjvmbbyNfpJLnuoPzuJwwZOAIWG1qiJ7UbTIup-M2XPURDRkj-_Gw3lJSxS_9sIjRjPMR2BUQWQx1S3w18OXnOWPqQ
“Biographies are long and boring. I don’t want to read another one!” Sound familiar? Don’t worry with Biographies Alive you will never have to read another long and dull biography of a famous person again. Biographies Alive will have students focusing on the exciting ways to write. Teachers will participate in a comparison strategy comparing the boring biographical books to the exciting “I want to read more” books and other forms of genres. They will be able to take the strategy back to their classrooms and immediately apply it. You will be presented with research to support writing across the curriculum. This strategy can be used in all content areas. I will present classroom photographs on how this was presented in my room and how it can be taken even further to produce outstanding writing and performances in the classroom. You will have yours students bringing to life creative and exciting anecdotes, posters, poems, magazine articles, front page newspaper articles focusing on one area of a person’s life. Handouts to guide you in your classroom will be provided.
This abstract will be used for fall UWP writing conference and proposal to the SCCTE conference in January. Please click on the link below to read the article based on my teaching demo.
http://upstate-writing-project.googlegroups.com/web/Research%20for%20Teaching%20Demo.doc?gda=KDPDG08AAADupV1lf2IqFakER66vrjvmbbyNfpJLnuoPzuJwwZOAIWG1qiJ7UbTIup-M2XPURDRkj-_Gw3lJSxS_9sIjRjPMR2BUQWQx1S3w18OXnOWPqQ
Chapter 1: The Unknown (The beginning of how we met.)
Chapter 1
The Unknown
Should I write this letter or should I just forget it? Someone needs my help? He is suffering so, and I am too. “Lord, what should I do?” I prayed quietly to myself as I sat in the dark of my now quiet lonely house while my daughter slept. It has weighed heavily on my heart.
A colleague of mine had told me about Mark, a man I never knew existed. He was a long time friend of hers and he was grieving over the loss of his wife. She had passed away only one week before my husband. She was very worried about him. “Jaime, you seem to be so strong. I wish Mark could talk to you or get some sort of help.” Little did she know that I was not strong. I was able to hide my feelings until I was alone. That is the moment that I battle the loneliness, the fear, and the heartache. I not only ache for my myself, but for my angel who has lost her daddy. A man she only knew for eight years of her precious life. Mary’s words continued to haunt me though. Someone needed help. How could I not help? I knew of no one else that was grieving the loss of a spouse at this very same moment. There was a moment of selfishness too. I needed rescuing. Maybe by me trying to save him he could actually save me.
I still questioned whether this was the right thing to do as I stood staring at the sympathy cards at Hallmark. There was a vast amount of cards, but I had no idea which to pick. How do you pick a card for someone you don’t even know? I don’t know this man at all. I have never met him or even seen a picture of him. I was only told about him last week. This is absolutely crazy. I almost backed out when I spotted the perfect card. Simple. That was all I needed.
Worry sat in about what the people, of this small community where I resided, would think if they found out that I was writing to a man. Shiloh is a rural community of North Carolina quietly nestled in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. It is such a beautiful, quaint, yet backwards place where an innocent gesture would be turned into something trashy in their eyes. ”Why she hasn’t even grieved for her husband, and she is already looking for a man.” I could hear them now. What do they know? They live in their own little judgmental world. If it’s not their way, it’s the wrong way. I am grieving and so is someone else. I will write it!! And I did. It took three rough drafts and the fourth try was completely different from the rest. I just prayed that the Lord would give me the right words to say.
It was after midnight when I finally completed the fourth draft. I sat in the dark of my house and reflected on what I had written and where my life and gone wrong. I wanted the night to end so that I could make the trip to the mailbox.
“Why did we have to build such a long driveway,” I thought to myself as I walked to the mailbox at the end of the road. The road seemed longer now. I could turn around and go back home and not even mail the letter. I don’t have to do this. He would never know because he doesn’t even know I exist. I continued on my quest. I was taught that you finish what you start. Did it really apply this time? As I approached my mailbox my heart began to race. I opened the door of the box as if something would jump out and bite me. I carefully placed the card and letter in the box treating it as if it was a delicate piece of china. I closed the door and raised the red flag at attention. It was done. I turned around knowing that I would not go back to retrieve it. This was something that had to be done. My quest for the day was over. Relief had not set in. I had no idea how lives would be changed from that day forward.
Chapter 2
The Meeting
“Kaylin, it’s time for bed. We need to get some sleep.” Ever since the death of my husband, my daughter, Kaylin, and I have been sleeping together. Maybe it’s loneliness, fear, or comfort. Kaylin had just fallen to sleep and I was lying there watching the t.v. when the phone rang. Who could possibly be calling at this hour? “Hello,” I answered slowly and cautiously. On the other end of the line was a deep voice—a voice that sounded as if it should be in broadcasting.
“Is this Jaime?” the voice asked. “This is she,” I answered realizing at that moment who it was.
Mark introduced himself to me and we began to talk. We talked mostly about the letter that was sent. He had never received a letter like that—I can’t say that I have either. We talked on into the night discussing our tragedies and what we had been going through. All we needed was someone to listen…to understand.
Each day I heard from Mark—mostly at night we would talk. There were nights that one of us would just listen while one would cry or get angry. The more we talked the more we began to realize we had a lot in common. Parallels were drawn, the largest being our spouses dieing exactly one week a part. Our birthdays are only one day a part, although he is fourteen years older. Mark’s father had been a police officer in a small town in Texas (my home state). Even our anniversaries were 2 days a part. As time went on more parallels were drawn.
Was there a reason? What did it all mean?
I found myself asking God, “Why did I write that letter? Why do we have so much in common? God, are you trying to tell me something? Why did we have to suffer so much from the loss of our loved ones and then find each other? Did you send me to the Carolinas for this purpose?”
I never received an actual answer from God, but I have said from the beginning that there is a plan and reason we were to meet--if only it was to help each other.
It was October 30 and I found a way to muster up the nerve to call him and ask him if he would like to meet my friends and me for dinner on Saturday night. After working so hard to even make the call he wasn’t home. What should I do? I left a message for him with the invitation.
Proper Etiquette? Probably not.
Late that night I received a phone call. It was him. He had just returned home from a concert that night and had received my message. He agreed to meet us. I am not sure what I felt at that time. This would be the first time we would see each other. I was excited, nervous, and even confused by the emotions I was experiencing.
Saturday finally arrived.
What would I wear? What does he look like? How will I know it is him?
My emotions were running rampant as question after question went through my mind. Fortunately I would have my friends with me. This was not something that I could do alone. What would he even think of me? I can’t believe I was actually worried about what he would think. We had only talked a few times and we weren’t not in any position to be looking at starting a new relationship, or so I thought.
Amanda arrived at the house promptly and we began our “girls adventure” for the night. We met Lindsey at her apartment for drinks and then on to the restaurant where Mark and I would meet for the first time. One drink wouldn’t do it for me. I needed more of the liquid “valium” in a bottle to calm my nerves.
We sat at the bar and decided to go ahead and order our dinner. I couldn’t eat too much. I was too nervous. Trying to listen and join the conversation was a difficult task. I couldn’t stay focused long enough to even comprehend what was being said. I kept looking around for any sign that he might be in the restaurant. I began to narrow my choices—the man alone at the table didn’t seem he was waiting on anyone. He busy eating and enjoying his solitude. Knowing the age of Mark, I knew the young man in his mid to late twenties was not him either. I continued to scan the restaurant and I didn’t see anyone that looked like they were searching for someone. We had a few more beers and laughed and talked the usual girl talk. I began to relax more and more, but as the time crept by I thought I was being stood up. He wasn’t going to show. I tried to come to grips with the fact that I might not meet him. I wanted to be able to put a face to the sad voice I had been talking to so openly each night. I wanted to see the man that I already knew so intimately through our tears and laughs and anger. God knew what I was thinking and feeling because and the anxiety I was having. I was still sitting at the bar when I noticed a man in a brown corduroy jacket walk in to the bar area. He seemed to be looking for someone or something. Could that be him? I wasn’t sure. He headed towards the restroom and entered. I blew it off thinking that he was just looking for the men’s room. Once he came out of the bathroom he still seemed to be looking around for someone. I think this is him. Could it be? I had described my hair color and what I looked like. I never told him what I would be wearing because I did not know at the time. His eyes locked with mine. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. I knew immediately that it was him. It was Mark, the man I had been sharing my deepest feelings with so passionately over the phone. A face, I finally had a face to go with the voice. “Are you Mark?” I asked cautiously. “Are you Jaime?” Easy way to start a conversation. I offered him the bar stool next to me and ordered him a beer. We immediately began to talk. Small talk at first. Although we had talked so openly on the phone, seeing each other face to face made it a little more uncomfortable. I was enjoying his company. As we talked and drank we began to have deeper conversations about our losses and even our future. At that moment I had no idea what the future would hold. I just wanted to escape the past.
As the night came to a close Mark leaned in to me and his soft lips gently touched mine. Our lips held each other as if we had been waiting for this moment ever since the time we met over the phone. What it meant and where it would head only God knew, but I wasn’t going to question it. I had felt something run through my body that I had not felt in a long time. I felt a freedom to be me and a longing for a man that seemed to understand.
The Unknown
Should I write this letter or should I just forget it? Someone needs my help? He is suffering so, and I am too. “Lord, what should I do?” I prayed quietly to myself as I sat in the dark of my now quiet lonely house while my daughter slept. It has weighed heavily on my heart.
A colleague of mine had told me about Mark, a man I never knew existed. He was a long time friend of hers and he was grieving over the loss of his wife. She had passed away only one week before my husband. She was very worried about him. “Jaime, you seem to be so strong. I wish Mark could talk to you or get some sort of help.” Little did she know that I was not strong. I was able to hide my feelings until I was alone. That is the moment that I battle the loneliness, the fear, and the heartache. I not only ache for my myself, but for my angel who has lost her daddy. A man she only knew for eight years of her precious life. Mary’s words continued to haunt me though. Someone needed help. How could I not help? I knew of no one else that was grieving the loss of a spouse at this very same moment. There was a moment of selfishness too. I needed rescuing. Maybe by me trying to save him he could actually save me.
I still questioned whether this was the right thing to do as I stood staring at the sympathy cards at Hallmark. There was a vast amount of cards, but I had no idea which to pick. How do you pick a card for someone you don’t even know? I don’t know this man at all. I have never met him or even seen a picture of him. I was only told about him last week. This is absolutely crazy. I almost backed out when I spotted the perfect card. Simple. That was all I needed.
Worry sat in about what the people, of this small community where I resided, would think if they found out that I was writing to a man. Shiloh is a rural community of North Carolina quietly nestled in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. It is such a beautiful, quaint, yet backwards place where an innocent gesture would be turned into something trashy in their eyes. ”Why she hasn’t even grieved for her husband, and she is already looking for a man.” I could hear them now. What do they know? They live in their own little judgmental world. If it’s not their way, it’s the wrong way. I am grieving and so is someone else. I will write it!! And I did. It took three rough drafts and the fourth try was completely different from the rest. I just prayed that the Lord would give me the right words to say.
It was after midnight when I finally completed the fourth draft. I sat in the dark of my house and reflected on what I had written and where my life and gone wrong. I wanted the night to end so that I could make the trip to the mailbox.
“Why did we have to build such a long driveway,” I thought to myself as I walked to the mailbox at the end of the road. The road seemed longer now. I could turn around and go back home and not even mail the letter. I don’t have to do this. He would never know because he doesn’t even know I exist. I continued on my quest. I was taught that you finish what you start. Did it really apply this time? As I approached my mailbox my heart began to race. I opened the door of the box as if something would jump out and bite me. I carefully placed the card and letter in the box treating it as if it was a delicate piece of china. I closed the door and raised the red flag at attention. It was done. I turned around knowing that I would not go back to retrieve it. This was something that had to be done. My quest for the day was over. Relief had not set in. I had no idea how lives would be changed from that day forward.
Chapter 2
The Meeting
“Kaylin, it’s time for bed. We need to get some sleep.” Ever since the death of my husband, my daughter, Kaylin, and I have been sleeping together. Maybe it’s loneliness, fear, or comfort. Kaylin had just fallen to sleep and I was lying there watching the t.v. when the phone rang. Who could possibly be calling at this hour? “Hello,” I answered slowly and cautiously. On the other end of the line was a deep voice—a voice that sounded as if it should be in broadcasting.
“Is this Jaime?” the voice asked. “This is she,” I answered realizing at that moment who it was.
Mark introduced himself to me and we began to talk. We talked mostly about the letter that was sent. He had never received a letter like that—I can’t say that I have either. We talked on into the night discussing our tragedies and what we had been going through. All we needed was someone to listen…to understand.
Each day I heard from Mark—mostly at night we would talk. There were nights that one of us would just listen while one would cry or get angry. The more we talked the more we began to realize we had a lot in common. Parallels were drawn, the largest being our spouses dieing exactly one week a part. Our birthdays are only one day a part, although he is fourteen years older. Mark’s father had been a police officer in a small town in Texas (my home state). Even our anniversaries were 2 days a part. As time went on more parallels were drawn.
Was there a reason? What did it all mean?
I found myself asking God, “Why did I write that letter? Why do we have so much in common? God, are you trying to tell me something? Why did we have to suffer so much from the loss of our loved ones and then find each other? Did you send me to the Carolinas for this purpose?”
I never received an actual answer from God, but I have said from the beginning that there is a plan and reason we were to meet--if only it was to help each other.
It was October 30 and I found a way to muster up the nerve to call him and ask him if he would like to meet my friends and me for dinner on Saturday night. After working so hard to even make the call he wasn’t home. What should I do? I left a message for him with the invitation.
Proper Etiquette? Probably not.
Late that night I received a phone call. It was him. He had just returned home from a concert that night and had received my message. He agreed to meet us. I am not sure what I felt at that time. This would be the first time we would see each other. I was excited, nervous, and even confused by the emotions I was experiencing.
Saturday finally arrived.
What would I wear? What does he look like? How will I know it is him?
My emotions were running rampant as question after question went through my mind. Fortunately I would have my friends with me. This was not something that I could do alone. What would he even think of me? I can’t believe I was actually worried about what he would think. We had only talked a few times and we weren’t not in any position to be looking at starting a new relationship, or so I thought.
Amanda arrived at the house promptly and we began our “girls adventure” for the night. We met Lindsey at her apartment for drinks and then on to the restaurant where Mark and I would meet for the first time. One drink wouldn’t do it for me. I needed more of the liquid “valium” in a bottle to calm my nerves.
We sat at the bar and decided to go ahead and order our dinner. I couldn’t eat too much. I was too nervous. Trying to listen and join the conversation was a difficult task. I couldn’t stay focused long enough to even comprehend what was being said. I kept looking around for any sign that he might be in the restaurant. I began to narrow my choices—the man alone at the table didn’t seem he was waiting on anyone. He busy eating and enjoying his solitude. Knowing the age of Mark, I knew the young man in his mid to late twenties was not him either. I continued to scan the restaurant and I didn’t see anyone that looked like they were searching for someone. We had a few more beers and laughed and talked the usual girl talk. I began to relax more and more, but as the time crept by I thought I was being stood up. He wasn’t going to show. I tried to come to grips with the fact that I might not meet him. I wanted to be able to put a face to the sad voice I had been talking to so openly each night. I wanted to see the man that I already knew so intimately through our tears and laughs and anger. God knew what I was thinking and feeling because and the anxiety I was having. I was still sitting at the bar when I noticed a man in a brown corduroy jacket walk in to the bar area. He seemed to be looking for someone or something. Could that be him? I wasn’t sure. He headed towards the restroom and entered. I blew it off thinking that he was just looking for the men’s room. Once he came out of the bathroom he still seemed to be looking around for someone. I think this is him. Could it be? I had described my hair color and what I looked like. I never told him what I would be wearing because I did not know at the time. His eyes locked with mine. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. I knew immediately that it was him. It was Mark, the man I had been sharing my deepest feelings with so passionately over the phone. A face, I finally had a face to go with the voice. “Are you Mark?” I asked cautiously. “Are you Jaime?” Easy way to start a conversation. I offered him the bar stool next to me and ordered him a beer. We immediately began to talk. Small talk at first. Although we had talked so openly on the phone, seeing each other face to face made it a little more uncomfortable. I was enjoying his company. As we talked and drank we began to have deeper conversations about our losses and even our future. At that moment I had no idea what the future would hold. I just wanted to escape the past.
As the night came to a close Mark leaned in to me and his soft lips gently touched mine. Our lips held each other as if we had been waiting for this moment ever since the time we met over the phone. What it meant and where it would head only God knew, but I wasn’t going to question it. I had felt something run through my body that I had not felt in a long time. I felt a freedom to be me and a longing for a man that seemed to understand.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Home (Poem for My Husband)
Home
Blue haze of mountains
Jutting in the horizon
White caps of snow softly blanketing the tops
The sun gazing over the peaks.
Red, pink, purple, orange
painting the sky
turning purple
Casting shadows on vallies below.
Leaves rustling
Whipperwills calling their name
Peace
Peace
Peace
Calming my soul.
Blue haze of mountains
Jutting in the horizon
White caps of snow softly blanketing the tops
The sun gazing over the peaks.
Red, pink, purple, orange
painting the sky
turning purple
Casting shadows on vallies below.
Leaves rustling
Whipperwills calling their name
Peace
Peace
Peace
Calming my soul.
Found Poem
My Child
By Jaime Lovello
Far
Far
Is only a memory.
Beneath the surface
A tiny creature clings,
This is the nursery.
She’s a baby-
Not bigger than a bottle top.
Safe in her world
Flapping
Flying
She pokes
She’s gone
Into her secret life again
Steadily she outgrows her nursery
She leaves
Bigger now
She’s grown into her name
She arrives
Where she was born
Found her way here
Every struggle
Eyes stream with salty tears
She dives into arms
Becomes a memory
Waiting to wake
By Jaime Lovello
Far
Far
Is only a memory.
Beneath the surface
A tiny creature clings,
This is the nursery.
She’s a baby-
Not bigger than a bottle top.
Safe in her world
Flapping
Flying
She pokes
She’s gone
Into her secret life again
Steadily she outgrows her nursery
She leaves
Bigger now
She’s grown into her name
She arrives
Where she was born
Found her way here
Every struggle
Eyes stream with salty tears
She dives into arms
Becomes a memory
Waiting to wake
Mommy, Who Made the Sky? (Picture Book)
Mommy, Who Made the Sky?
“Mommy, who made the world?” came the voice of a precious child.
Mommy looked in her rearview mirror to see this little girl, her baby, with chubby little cheeks and a cute crooked smile.
Kaylin was an inquisitive child; always asking questions, wanting to know more. Mommy peered back at her with a smile and replied, “God made the trees world, Kay.”
In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Genesis 1:1
That seemed to satisfy her for a brief moment. As they continued their journey down the highway, Kaylin’s mommy heard that adorable voice from the backseat, “Mommy, who made the sun?” She glanced in the rearview mirror and saw her daughter’s coal, black eyes just sparkling and she answered, “Sweetie, God made the sun.”
“Oh” Kaylin said satisfied as if it was no big deal.
And God said, "Let there be light," and there was light. 4 God saw that the light was good, and He separated the light from the darkness. 5 God called the light "day," and the darkness he called "night." And there was evening, and there was morning—the first day. 16 God made two great lights—the greater light to govern the day and the lesser light to govern the night. He also made the stars.Genesis 1:3-5 & 16
The moment of happiness that Kaylin felt after hearing the answer to her question was short-lived.
“Mommy?”
“Yes, Kaylin,” she answered slowly, knowing there was another question coming.
“Who made the sky?” Kaylin asked grinning from ear to ear now playing a little game; the game of let’s see how many questions Kaylin can ask before really getting on Mommy’s nerves.
“Kay, you tell me. Who made the sky?” Mommy asked her trying to play her little game.
“I don’t know. Tell me, Mommy. Who made the sky?”
Once again the reply was, “God, made the sky Kaylin.” My reply was not as enthusiastic as the others.
6 And God said, "Let there be an expanse between the waters to separate water from water." 8 God called the expanse "sky." And there was evening, and there was morning—the second day. Genesis 1: 6&8
“Mommy,” Kaylin spoke quickly as if a lightbulb had just flickered above her head. A Another question Mommy thought.
“Who made the trees? They are so pretty with their white flowers.”
“Kaylin,” Mommy stretched her name trying to get across that the game was getting old. “God made the trees.”
11 Then God said, "Let the land produce vegetation: seed-bearing plants and trees on the land that bear fruit with seed in it, according to their various kinds." And it was so. Genesis 1:11
Kaylin continued to play—more to bug Mommy now than anything.
“Mooommmmyyyy,” the name seemed to go on forever.
She knew what was coming, but she just didn’t know what the topic would be.
“Mommy, look at that BIG bird flying by the car.”
“WOW, Kay it’s huge.”
Whoosh no more questions. The bird had caught her attention.
There was a slight pause.
“Who made the birds?” Mommy glanced in the mirror at the amusing angel in the backseat and couldn’t help but to laugh.
“God made the birds.”
20 And God said, "Let the water teem with living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the expanse of the sky." 21 So God created the great creatures of the sea and every living and moving thing with which the water teems, according to their kinds, and every winged bird according to its kind. And God saw that it was good. Genesis 1:20-21
“Kaylin, I have a great idea. When you say your prayers tonight why don’t you thank God for all of these wonderful things he has made for us to enjoy?”
“No, Mommy.”
There was a short pause before she finished her thought.
“ I will just wait for when He comes to see me sometime.”
Mommy looked back at the innocent child and just smiled realizing that Kaylin already knew more as a little girl than her mother ever would.
Behold, every one that useth proverbs shall use this proverb against thee, saying, As is the mother, so is her daughter. Ezekiel 16:44
“Mommy, who made the world?” came the voice of a precious child.
Mommy looked in her rearview mirror to see this little girl, her baby, with chubby little cheeks and a cute crooked smile.
Kaylin was an inquisitive child; always asking questions, wanting to know more. Mommy peered back at her with a smile and replied, “God made the trees world, Kay.”
In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Genesis 1:1
That seemed to satisfy her for a brief moment. As they continued their journey down the highway, Kaylin’s mommy heard that adorable voice from the backseat, “Mommy, who made the sun?” She glanced in the rearview mirror and saw her daughter’s coal, black eyes just sparkling and she answered, “Sweetie, God made the sun.”
“Oh” Kaylin said satisfied as if it was no big deal.
And God said, "Let there be light," and there was light. 4 God saw that the light was good, and He separated the light from the darkness. 5 God called the light "day," and the darkness he called "night." And there was evening, and there was morning—the first day. 16 God made two great lights—the greater light to govern the day and the lesser light to govern the night. He also made the stars.Genesis 1:3-5 & 16
The moment of happiness that Kaylin felt after hearing the answer to her question was short-lived.
“Mommy?”
“Yes, Kaylin,” she answered slowly, knowing there was another question coming.
“Who made the sky?” Kaylin asked grinning from ear to ear now playing a little game; the game of let’s see how many questions Kaylin can ask before really getting on Mommy’s nerves.
“Kay, you tell me. Who made the sky?” Mommy asked her trying to play her little game.
“I don’t know. Tell me, Mommy. Who made the sky?”
Once again the reply was, “God, made the sky Kaylin.” My reply was not as enthusiastic as the others.
6 And God said, "Let there be an expanse between the waters to separate water from water." 8 God called the expanse "sky." And there was evening, and there was morning—the second day. Genesis 1: 6&8
“Mommy,” Kaylin spoke quickly as if a lightbulb had just flickered above her head. A Another question Mommy thought.
“Who made the trees? They are so pretty with their white flowers.”
“Kaylin,” Mommy stretched her name trying to get across that the game was getting old. “God made the trees.”
11 Then God said, "Let the land produce vegetation: seed-bearing plants and trees on the land that bear fruit with seed in it, according to their various kinds." And it was so. Genesis 1:11
Kaylin continued to play—more to bug Mommy now than anything.
“Mooommmmyyyy,” the name seemed to go on forever.
She knew what was coming, but she just didn’t know what the topic would be.
“Mommy, look at that BIG bird flying by the car.”
“WOW, Kay it’s huge.”
Whoosh no more questions. The bird had caught her attention.
There was a slight pause.
“Who made the birds?” Mommy glanced in the mirror at the amusing angel in the backseat and couldn’t help but to laugh.
“God made the birds.”
20 And God said, "Let the water teem with living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the expanse of the sky." 21 So God created the great creatures of the sea and every living and moving thing with which the water teems, according to their kinds, and every winged bird according to its kind. And God saw that it was good. Genesis 1:20-21
“Kaylin, I have a great idea. When you say your prayers tonight why don’t you thank God for all of these wonderful things he has made for us to enjoy?”
“No, Mommy.”
There was a short pause before she finished her thought.
“ I will just wait for when He comes to see me sometime.”
Mommy looked back at the innocent child and just smiled realizing that Kaylin already knew more as a little girl than her mother ever would.
Behold, every one that useth proverbs shall use this proverb against thee, saying, As is the mother, so is her daughter. Ezekiel 16:44
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
