Welcome to my newest readers, listeners, fellow bibliophiles, and educators!
Though our Arkansas garden is only two years old, I’ve planted lots of hospitable perennials and herbs. Bluebeard repels deer but entices scores of bumblebees, rudbeckia attracts butterflies and goldfinches, and mounds of parsley host swallowtail eggs and caterpillars at this time of year.
In July, a fellow teacher gifted me with a full-grown milkweed plant. It wasn’t a brilliant time to transplant, but I found a place for it, staked it well, and have kept it watered. Two weeks ago, an absolute host descended on it: bees, hummingbird moths, skippers, monarchs, frittilaries (you may know them as silverspots) of every pattern.
Caterpillars have already consumed its leaves, but the oleander aphids and ants continue to thrive. What a sign of plenty in just a matter of days. I haven’t found a single chrysalis yet, but I know they must be nearby.
Speaking of signs of plenty . . . school has begun, and I’ve welcomed our largest group of secondary students yet as our Upper School enters its third year. I admit to gulping some tears when I walked into a very full sanctuary. I think of every ‘yes’ in every heart, of every question, email, and school visit that brings one family to our doors, let alone many. Man, I am grateful, grateful for how God works.
On my desk
With great relief, I’m happy to say another essay has found a home while I wait to hear back from two Christian publishing houses about my book proposal. If you’re new to my letter, I am honing the idea that our life in Christ is like the tenacity of the sycomore fig tree and how its fruit comes to maturity (see A Birth Announcement).
In the meantime, I’m pretty determined to spend at least one day per weekend researching and/or writing the rest of the rough draft. I admit I did not touch it all summer, but I think that space was actually helpful. As I worked on it Saturday, I’m still surprised that I am learning what I think about the ideas within my book.
Henri Nouwen describes the experience this way:
Writing is a process in which we discover what lives in us. The writing itself reveals to us what is alive in us. The deepest satisfaction of writing is precisely that it opens up new spaces within us of which we were not aware before we started to write. To write is to embark on a journey whose final destination we do not know. Thus, writing requires a real act of trust. We have to say to ourselves: ‘I do not yet know what I carry in my heart, but I trust that it will emerge as I write.’
Around the web
The Public Domain Review website remains a fascinating one. They feature “the vast commons of out-of-copyright material,” some of which is appalling and some of which is illuminating. Over the summer, I read about the ‘friendship books’ of the 17th century. They were an early version of social media, a place to record friendships and social connections.
Friends and family would, over a period of many years, contribute pages — often messages of love, encouragement, and admiration for the owner of the book, in addition to a variety of images.
Watercolors, diagrams, and collages fill the pages. Read more at Smithsonian Magazine. I love the creative element and am already thinking of how to include this in art or humanities courses.
I would love to hear from you in your reading or classroom journey.
As always, thanks for reading and listening! And don't forget that the List Library at my website is always available to you, my readers.
Christine
Perfect for beginners, this handy study guide for C.S. Lewis's novel is a blend of summary and scholarly commentary. The second edition includes references to leading commentary from Lewis scholars as well as key parallels from Lewis’s other works like The Four Loves, Surprised by Joy, and An Experiment in Criticism. Each chapter includes discussion questions designed for students, teachers, book clubs, and church groups.
Wonderful read. Have never heard of Friendship books. Love that. It brought to mind a soft book I sewed for my best friend (now in Thailand the last 14 years) made from a maternity top we passed back and forth for a decade while having 12 children between the both of us. Stitched symbols and words that marked the miles of our friendship onto teal cotton. The fabric of our lives, quite literally!
Good morning Christine!
I look forward to reading your book regarding the analogy of the Sycamore fig tree to the Christian life.
Have a blessed week!
- Jeff Jewsome