Graphing

School has been difficult lately. A few days of a cold, some extra little ones in the house that were a distraction, then a med change which got worse before it got better. Now we are playing catch-up. But as soon as he heard about a unit on graphing, he was all in.

A request to decide his survey question was easy and (obviously) followed the very popular (to Victor) Star Wars theme. His question: Who is your favorite Sith from Star Wars? He recorded a video with his question and I posted it on Facebook. His initial idea was to get 100 responses but after a day or two decided that this might have been a bit ambitious so we decided to go with 50 responses. 

We began by collecting our data. We put each Sith's name on a popsicle stick and into a cup. Then, as I read off the responses, he added a cube to that cup. When finished, he traded cubes for longs and counted the votes. He was disappointed that his vote, Darth Maul (who apparently has the best light saber - I wouldn't know) did not win and attempted to change the votes but I put a quick end to that idea.

Our first graph was a bar graph. In the land of visual impairment, at least at our house, Wikki Stix are our friend so we put a Wikki Stix line at the top of each bar. Later, we colored the bars in with marker.

The pie graph might just have been our favorite. Brightly colored foam, some with a different texture, helped to make this work for Victor.

A pictograph with tactile star stickers

Lent this year

For the past several years, this has been an integral part of my Lenten focus. There is something about light in the darkness. We usually associate it with Christmas celebrations but this Advent "wreath"/Lenten "wreath" has helped me to see these 40 days differently.

Lent is not something that I celebrated traditionally. It was introduced to me by leaders in our current church but has also become more meaningful as I've studied it for myself, both cerebrally and soulfully. When all legalism is removed, and Lent is what it is meant to be, a human method of preparing oneself to once again remember Christ's suffering, death, and resurrection while at the same time join Him in His ministry, it becomes an important part of life's rhythm.

This year's Lenten season began with two extra little ones in our home. It began with cursing, throwing, and behaviors which quickly spiraled into much more. I put the wreath out but didn't have the energy to add the candles. And within a day or so, had to put the whole thing away to keep it safe from little hands that knew no other way to deal with anger, pain, and sadness than to lash out at love.

Also during this time I tried to start several different kinds of fasts, trying to give up one thing then another. Each one failed. I didn't have the emotional or physical energy to recognize Lent in the typical ways. I was consumed with anguish from sharing the burdens of this sweet family that had become connected to ours.

The night the little ones returned to their own home, I slept like a rock. I began to recognize the toll the experience had taken. A day or two later I replaced all of the breakable and sentimental items that had been removed for their own safety. I replaced the Lenten wreath and as I attempted to figure out what day of Lent we were on, realized that the chaos that had been in our home left exactly halfway through Lent.

I also realized, as I added the number of candles for the days that had gone by, that I had been participating in Lent all along.  Some faith traditions practice three aspects of Lent: prayer, fasting, and charity. None of these are meant to be legalistic or to win us God's favor and grace. Instead, these sacrifices can all make Jesus' sacrifice and resurrection more meaningful.

And anyone who does not carry his cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. 

Luke 14:27

If Lent is a time to give up myself and to focus on the ministry God calls me to on this earth, loving God and loving His people, then this year was a lesson in real-time. Just like Jesus' journey to the cross, following the path chosen for me can be more difficult than any fast. Carrying the burdens of others continues to wreck me this Lenten season and I'm reminded that I can do nothing in my own strength.

My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. 

2 Corinthians 12:9

Sharing in His sufferings, in just a small way, to love those who know no other way to deal with anger, pain, and sadness than to lash out at Love, that's the prayer and the fasting and the charity that Jesus modeled. Many times this Lenten season I've cried, "Take this! I'm tired of doing the hard; it's someone else's turn." He didn't take the hard, but He did send a community to pray, encourage, give, and uplift. And that's the cycle of the gospel, isn't it? What do you have in your hand? Are you willing to give it up for one who needs it more? Are you able to trust that He who has called you will provide through Himself and through those He has already prepared to join you, to uplift you, and to walk the narrow and difficult road with you?

I need only look at that wreath, at those lights, at that journey to Easter. My burden is lifted when shared in His yoke, and hope is restored in all the promises of the resurrection. Joy does come in the morning and we are given strength for each day.

I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty.

I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation,

whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.

I can do everything through Him who gives me strength.

Philippians 4:11-13

March 13

 We figured out that not only are Andrew and Sarah's birthdays a day apart, but they were born pretty close to exactly 24 hours apart.

The little trip down memory lane brought up memories of the day that made me a mom. 

Memories of an OB/GYN who finally took my pain and symptoms seriously and after being recommended by the only other doctor who had taken me seriously, said, "I think you might have endometriosis. Let's get a surgery scheduled to confirm."

Memories of that same doctor who with care and compassion did indeed confirm that diagnosis and who shared with us that we may never have biological children but that if it was going to happen, it was going to have to happen soon.

And that same doctor who continued to walk with us through that infertility journey, who agreed to put me on a fertility drug, but only for 6 months since it was going to exacerbate my endometriosis. The same doctor who confirmed a pregnancy after the last dose of that medication.

The same doctor who said that he wanted to be there for my delivery, whether or not he was on call, but who warned that a Monday could be difficult because it was his day off.

Memories of a labor that lasted beyond Sunday into - you guessed it - Monday, the doctor's day off. But since my chart said to call him when I was in labor, they called him and he came in his jeans and sunglasses. 

The same doctor who said that if I didn't deliver by 3:00, he'd need to leave as he needed to pick his son up from school. The same son that I had had as a student a year prior. They same son who didn't get picked up on time that day because - you guessed it - Andrew John King was born soon after 3:00. The nurse took the call for him soon after delivery, "Ummm, the school is calling. Your son is waiting for you..."

And memories of a baby who came out eyes wide open, quietly checking out his surroundings. A baby who would change lives through storytelling. A baby who would see the world through the lens of a camera. A baby who would change our lives for the better and make me what I had always dreamed of being - a  mom.

Happy birthday, Andrew!

March 12

What would it be like to share a birthday with dates that will forevermore be associated with the shutting down of America? Sarah is one of those folks with just that. And while the date will have different meanings for different people, we love the story of good-from-bad that was part of her journey this past year. Doors closed and doors opened, grieving what was lost and rejoicing in what was gained. Jobs lost and jobs found - all from home - permanently, just what she was hoping to find eventually. 

Happy birthday, sweet Sarah!

I hope there's some sushi in your near future.