It's often said "You can't go back", and generally speaking, this is true. But every once in a while it happens, like an unexpected gift, where we seem to enter a time portal that propels us back to a place or experience from long ago and we are suddenly seeing, smelling, tasting, and experiencing the past right here in the present.
This happened to me Friday night. I grew up in a Catholic home and we were very involved in our local Catholic parish. I have wonderful memories of both religious and social events at the church, and most of our family friends were also members there. One of my favorite times of the year was Lent, especially the Friday night fish fries. The community center packed out with families devouring plates piled high with delicious crispy catfish, fried right there by the Knights of Columbus. There was laughter and music and kids running all over and lots of food.
Though I no longer attend a Catholic church, I occasionally visit events at my parents' parish and Friday night I accompanied them to their fish fry. I walked in and was suddenly ten years old again. Though it was a different church and unfamiliar faces, the laughter, music, and mounds of food, including slices of home-baked desserts, were just the same. We ate and talked and relaxed and ate more, our souls being nourished at the same time as our bodies. I was reluctant to leave at the end of the evening, but grateful for the reminder that as much as the world and our lives change, some things stay the same, most of God Himself. And, of course, that amazing Lenten catfish.
Tuesday, March 28, 2017
Tuesday, March 21, 2017
Everything is better in small towns...and with family
While I have always been a big-city girl, nothing seems to be as enjoyable as time spent in a small town. That time is always accompanied by family, which also makes everything better, so whether the chicken came first or the egg I do not know, but I suspect they go hand-in hand.
A few weeks ago, on a beautiful Saturday morning, a couple of my kids and I, along with my parents, were strolling through quaintly restored downtown Bryan, TX, headed toward the farmers' market. There, the farmers' market is the real deal. Rather than a cool hipster hang out, actual farmers bring in home-grown goods from real farms in old Ford pick up trucks. Everything about it oozes authenticity. Somewhere on the 100 yard walk from our car to the canopies of fresh produce, flowers, herbs and honey, someone mentioned being hungry. Mind you, breakfast was only an hour or so in the past, but we have a family tradition on trips of any length or location, that we must make food stops about once an hour. So, it made sense to everyone to turn around and look for some cute local place for a bite.
My middle daughter, who's in school there and frequents the charming establishments in that district, immediately suggested a new kolache shop nearby. We did not need to be convinced. In a few minutes we entered a tiny little bakery with still-sparkling pine trim and stained concrete floors, and an intoxicating aroma of freshly baked breads, kolaches, and cinnamon rolls. As we stared through the glass case at the mouth watering choices, I'm pretty sure I heard multiple murmurings of, "Just give me one of everything". My dad proceeded to order almost that much, along with hot cups of coffee, and soon our 2nd breakfast was being devoured.
I lost track of all the times someone said, "These are seriously the best cinnamon rolls I've ever had", but the truth is, they just were. The perfect amount of cinnamon and sugar, pecans and glaze. Light and flaky. Melted in your mouth. Amazing.
Or... was it the cute shop? Or the picturesque town? The perfect crisp, early spring day? The farmers' market? The small town? Or being with family? Probably, all of the above. But I will definitely be returning regardless of the weather, and by myself if need be, and I can test that hypothesis while indulging in another one of those cinnamon rolls.
A few weeks ago, on a beautiful Saturday morning, a couple of my kids and I, along with my parents, were strolling through quaintly restored downtown Bryan, TX, headed toward the farmers' market. There, the farmers' market is the real deal. Rather than a cool hipster hang out, actual farmers bring in home-grown goods from real farms in old Ford pick up trucks. Everything about it oozes authenticity. Somewhere on the 100 yard walk from our car to the canopies of fresh produce, flowers, herbs and honey, someone mentioned being hungry. Mind you, breakfast was only an hour or so in the past, but we have a family tradition on trips of any length or location, that we must make food stops about once an hour. So, it made sense to everyone to turn around and look for some cute local place for a bite.
My middle daughter, who's in school there and frequents the charming establishments in that district, immediately suggested a new kolache shop nearby. We did not need to be convinced. In a few minutes we entered a tiny little bakery with still-sparkling pine trim and stained concrete floors, and an intoxicating aroma of freshly baked breads, kolaches, and cinnamon rolls. As we stared through the glass case at the mouth watering choices, I'm pretty sure I heard multiple murmurings of, "Just give me one of everything". My dad proceeded to order almost that much, along with hot cups of coffee, and soon our 2nd breakfast was being devoured.
I lost track of all the times someone said, "These are seriously the best cinnamon rolls I've ever had", but the truth is, they just were. The perfect amount of cinnamon and sugar, pecans and glaze. Light and flaky. Melted in your mouth. Amazing.
Or... was it the cute shop? Or the picturesque town? The perfect crisp, early spring day? The farmers' market? The small town? Or being with family? Probably, all of the above. But I will definitely be returning regardless of the weather, and by myself if need be, and I can test that hypothesis while indulging in another one of those cinnamon rolls.
Monday, March 6, 2017
Thinking and Reading
There's so much discussion about reading comprehension, and rightfully so. We want students to be able to understand and synthesize what they are reading so they can both do well in school and enjoy what they are learning. Comprehension is critical to students learning and to their success. Yet to stop there with our goals for their literacy is to do them a huge disservice. A lifelong disservice, in fact.
When I look up "think" in my favorite dictionary - the American Heritage 2nd College Edition from 1982 - I find a surprising array of definitions and synonyms, including: to reason, ponder; to formulate in the mind; to reflect; to judge; to believe; to hope or expect; to remember; to visualize or imagine. When you take all these words and put them into the context of reading, you begin to see the much bigger purpose reading can and is intended to play in our lives.
I once had someone, who didn't see much purpose in reading, say to me, "If you would stop reading all those books and just pay attention around you, you'd probably learn a lot more." What this person didn't realize is that books are an incredible source of learning. When we combine our reading with thinking, we are challenged, encouraged, entertained, taught, questioned, inspired, refreshed, and become more of who we were made to be. Reading, when allowed, changes us. That change can be for the better or worse. So our thinking has to begin before we start to read, during the selection process. And it has to continue after, so that the text is given time to do more than just plant seeds, but to germinate, take root and grow, in the hopes that it will eventually bear good fruit.
There's so much discussion about reading comprehension, and rightfully so. We want students to be able to understand and synthesize what they are reading so they can both do well in school and enjoy what they are learning. Comprehension is critical to students learning and to their success. Yet to stop there with our goals for their literacy is to do them a huge disservice. A lifelong disservice, in fact.
When I look up "think" in my favorite dictionary - the American Heritage 2nd College Edition from 1982 - I find a surprising array of definitions and synonyms, including: to reason, ponder; to formulate in the mind; to reflect; to judge; to believe; to hope or expect; to remember; to visualize or imagine. When you take all these words and put them into the context of reading, you begin to see the much bigger purpose reading can and is intended to play in our lives.
I once had someone, who didn't see much purpose in reading, say to me, "If you would stop reading all those books and just pay attention around you, you'd probably learn a lot more." What this person didn't realize is that books are an incredible source of learning. When we combine our reading with thinking, we are challenged, encouraged, entertained, taught, questioned, inspired, refreshed, and become more of who we were made to be. Reading, when allowed, changes us. That change can be for the better or worse. So our thinking has to begin before we start to read, during the selection process. And it has to continue after, so that the text is given time to do more than just plant seeds, but to germinate, take root and grow, in the hopes that it will eventually bear good fruit.
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