five finds friday: Dickens and Twists and a cake baker and a cuddler

It’s the end of another week full of . . . . well, full of everything.

In the literature and writing course I teach my students are assigned copywork each week.  The copywork is a quote or a short poem.  It’s their task to write the quote down each day for a week.  Then, when we meet together during class, the first thing we do is dictation.  But really, for these students, it’s not even dictation – it’s just from memory.  They write the quote down on a blank piece of paper – attempting to recreate the quote perfectly, with identical punctuation and spelling.

Last week I assigned the longest one I had yet for the year – the first line of Charles Dickens’ Tale of Two Cities.  That classic – “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.  It was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness.”  Only of course I didn’t stop there.  They had to do the whole thing.

When we began class there was a rather heated debate over the merit of Dickens’ words.  Whether they were profound or just opposites with little meaning.  Naturally, I chose the passage because I felt it to be important.  And I think the duality of the entire paragraph is that both are true, all the time.  Things CAN be the best and the worst, light and dark, happy and sad.

And maybe we have differing opinions because of our ages or our life experiences or our love or lack thereof for Victorian literature.  

All of the above, of course.

Anyway.  This is a ridiculously long winded way to say that the week (and mostly this entire 2019) has felt like the first paragraph of The Tale of Two Cities.

The best.  The worst.  Spring of hope.  Winter of despair.  We have everything before us, we have nothing before us.

Just that vague.  Just that conflicted.

Week after week.

But, for this moment, let me just try to focus on five specific things that start with the letter f.

funny

Speaking of the same literature class, we meet on Thursdays.  And last week when we met it was brought to my attention by one of my students that we were having class on the birthday of Charles Dickens.

The author we’d been collectively studying for weeks as we read through Oliver Twist.  

I couldn’t believe it.  Talk about a missed opportunity.  As the teacher and a lover of fun, I could not believe that I was reading Oliver Twist with a group of students on Charles Dickens’ birthday and I had in NO way remembered or brought it to the attention of my students.  

Think of what we could have done – Oliver Twist food (porridge, sir?) or Dickens inspired costumes, party hats and a cake with Charles Dickens on it.  Or that inspiring quote.  Poems in his honor.  Anything at all.

I felt like I totally blew a golden opportunity.

I couldn’t go back in time but I did have a break between the time my class ended and the time I would return to Meadowlark to pick up my own children after the rest of their classes.

I had to improvise.  To try to redeem a touch of my literary opportunity.  But I had the dilemma of time and availability of resources.

I made a run to the nearest grocery store.  No one seemed to be employed at their bakery.  But then I saw a packages of cream horns – or of what I will now call cream twists – because it better suits my purpose.  I grabbed those and picked up a can of decorating icing and headed to the car to see what I could figure out.

I got back to school a few minutes early and positioned myself by the door my class would exit from their Logic class.

At the sight of frosted and sugared goodness, they seemed to be ready to overlook my earlier blunder and they all accepted their Oliver Twists happily.

Situation nearly redeemed.

fashionable

I’m just going to take one more opportunity to point you back to the Noonday Trunk Show I am currently hosting online.

You can be shopping RIGHT NOW or for another couple of days.  This Sunday evening is a live Facebook chat about the trunk show.  (Let’s be honest, I have no idea yet how that works.)

Some of you fine people have already been purchasing – so that’s exciting.  (I’m looking at you Allie – and feeling thankful you have a similar earring addiction as myself.) Thank you!

flavorful

Last week Piper wanted to bake a cake.  From scratch.  (At first, she was only looking for something to do because she wasn’t allowed to be on a screen.  Oh gasp, what a hard life.)

So she spent a long time in the kitchen with a cookbook we borrowed from the library.

This was the recipe for the icing.

And it was quite an undertaking for her.

But the cake turned out to be delicious.

And she used up some of that leftover icing from my Oliver Twists.

I sometimes am guilty of forgetting how capable eleven can be.

faithful

My kitchen counter got a facelift last week.

And the kindest gentleman from my church came out to take away the old so there would be room for the new.

I had never met him until he stood in my kitchen, offering me a service I could not easily do for myself.

He brought a young man to help with the counter removal.  Those two men gained nothing from their effort.  They just did a time consuming act of kindness for the sake of kindness alone.

They were tidy and careful.  They were kind and generous.  They cleaned up after themselves and they met a very tangible need for my family.

I don’t know their motivation.  But I think it has to do with Jesus.

It’s easy to see provision when it comes in such a helpful form.

I’m really thankful my kids can witness it too.

I want to raise helpers.  Thoughtful humans.  Generous people.  Men and women who serve when there is literally zero to gain.

May it be so.

feels

Lately Otto has been an enjoyable young guy.

 (If you’ve been a parent for more than 2.3 seconds, you know that we love our children, but there are simply seasons of life where their joy export is higher than other times when they seem to suck the joy out of a room instead.  I have three teenagers and I have already raised one teenager.  Which means I also have already lived through four “tweens” so I think I know of what I speak.)

He’s the end of the line.  

So it’s not surprising that there’s a bit of desire on my part to not miss these seasons.  This one, in particular, where this guy is thoughtful.  Where he asks to play Pente or Scrabble.  This kid who loves nothing more than a good jump on the trampoline together or a round of horse.  Who holds my hand and offers to refill my water cup.  Who treats London like some sort of second mother and asks Mosely for extra hugs.  Who still wants his back scratched before bed and offers to paint my toe nails.  (For real, it’s adorable.)

He’s a cuddler.  And I don’t want to miss out on any extra nine year old cuddles.

_______________________________________