Week-end Creativity Report

It's been a week-end of creativity, which was great fun, and a week-end of home repairs, which led to both progress and irritation.  At long last, we have a washer and a dryer again:

I should clarify:  we have a working washer and dryer again.  These appliances were delivered July 21, where they have sat in the middle of the kitchen floor since, making working in the kitchen more of a challenge than it should be going forward.

To have a working washer and dryer, my spouse needed to transform the space which had once been a hallway.  We needed new plumbing and new electric.  Then, we needed to correct the new plumbing so that there could be a wall.  Then we needed walls and paint for the walls.

Finally, on Saturday, it was time.  We moved the washer into place and did a load of laundry, to be sure that the plumbing wasn't leaking.  Sunday it was time to heave the dryer into place.  My spouse did that work while I drove across the mountains to preach at Faith Lutheran.  I came back and served as cheerleader while my spouse tried to connect the dryer hose; ultimately he was successful, but it did make me wonder why this has to be so hard.  Why is the diameter of the hose and the diameter of the vent pipe exactly the same?

When I look back on this week-end, I hope I remember that we also had fun times.  On Friday, when we were getting supplies for the laundry room remodel, we also picked up a rope and a hook for the suspension of the bird house that my spouse envisioned.  

So far, it's stayed suspended.  The birds have found it, but the bears and the squirrels have not.  

On Friday, I took some muslin that I had after an anniversary quilt project and some scraps of batting, and I created ghosts to go with the pumpkins at the fence.  

At first I had a vision of each ghost having different colored eyes, but the first ghost with blue eyes was more KKK hood than ghost:

So I grabbed a marker and made the more traditional ghost eyes.  

It's not permanent ink, so it's already running a bit, but I don't care:

On Saturday, I wrote this about them:  "Now some of the ghosts look extra sad or extra goth or extra hungover, like their mas-scare-a (say it with a spooky voice the way that spouse Carl did) has started to run down their faces."

Will I keep buying pumpkins?  Will the ghosts last to Halloween?  Stay tuned.

Today the flooring project resumes, which is a project that doesn't involve me this time.  I will be up the hill at Lutheridge attending and assisting with the Southeastern Synod's Convocation time (a continuing ed/spiritual renewal event for rostered ministers and others).  May all be well this week!

Buoyant Joy as Spring Schedules Mesh

It feels like a long time since I've had a relatively free week-end.  I still go to preach on Sunday, which involves a 2 hour drive on either side, so Sunday isn't free.  And I still have grading, but once the semester gets underway, I always have grading.  Similarly, I have seminary work, but once the semester is underway, I will always have long term projects and short term readings.

Part of what makes this week-end feel different is that next week is Reading Week at seminary, so I don't have classes.  It's a great week not to have classes, as I'm attending and helping with the Southeastern Synod Convocation, which is like a continuing ed/spiritual renewal event for ministers and pastors.

I am also entering into this week-end with a sense of peace that I haven't had before.  Yesterday, my seminary released the course list for Spring.  I had been worried that some of my required classes would be offered at the same time I was teaching my face to face classes.  Happily, that's not the case.  And the class that I hope to take, the one that explores teaching and digital media, that's offered this semester in a virtual modality--hurrah!  

I let my department chair at Spartanburg Methodist College know that my spring seminary courses wouldn't conflict with my teaching, and I asked if the final Spring schedule had been approved by the dean.  The last e-mail I got made me think we were still waiting on approval.  But happily, we've all been approved.  My chair said, "As far as I'm concerned, you'll be in front of those classes when we get to January."

I went through the rest of the afternoon with a sense of joy:  I get to keep teaching AND take seminary classes.  My afternoon face-to-face classes went well, which kept my sense of joy intact. The mountains are so beautiful this time of year, so the drive kept my joy buoyant.  

That buoyant joy is also influencing my sense of expansiveness as the week-end begins.  Now let me go for a walk and enjoy the autumnal weather and views.

Ghosts and Other Inspirations

Yesterday when I walked into my dermatologist's office, I smiled at the sight of all the Halloween decorations.  Every surface had a pumpkin or a jack-o-lantern--or a purple fuzzy witch's boot.  There was a bowl of candy, as if trick-or-treaters might come.  Spiderwebs of various colors were draped over counters and tables.

When I went from the lobby to the back offices and exam rooms, I saw that the decorating had continued.  I said, "Do y'all decorate like this for Christmas too?"

The medical assistant person said, "Oh yes."

I said, "I'm tempted to change my February appointment to December so that I can see it."

She said, "You should!"

I won't do that, but I am tempted.  I love seeing everyone's decorations, regardless of the holiday.

This morning I saw this photo of ghosts made out of vintage fabric, posted by @BrknPoet on Twitter.

Photo by @BrknPoet

I don't want to do too much decorating inside my house this year--it's still a construction zone.  And I don't want to buy too many decorations--we don't have much storage space.  But this picture made me think about possibilities for the outside of the house.  I have a vision for ghosts along our fence line--it's the only space that's really visible from the road, and part of me decorates to bring joy to neighbors and walkers and other passers by.

I have muslin left over from a project, and I have batting.  Let me schedule some creative fun this week-end.  That's the disadvantage with ghosts--they're time sensitive.  Pumpkins can stay up through Thanksgiving, which is why they are my go-to.

Cassandra Colors Her Hair after the Apocalypse

Later today, I'll turn in midterm grades at Spartanburg Methodist College.  In some ways, it's amazing to me that we're already at midterm.  The weather is still somewhat summery.  I look across the mountains as I'm driving, and most of the trees are still green.

But on my daily walks, I notice that some of the trees have lost all of their leaves already.  In the area beside the road where I saw the bear back in August as I walked up to the chapel, a bear would not be hidden there today--the undergrowth has lost most of its leaves.

When I went back to my August blog posts to verify that I saw the bear in August, I saw another blog post, Cassandra Colors Her Hair.  It talked about my visit to the fancy hair salon that served wine in crystal glasses, and it mentioned a poem that came to me at the hair salon.  I wondered if I ever wrote it.

I went to my rough draft file, and I don't think I ever did.  I decided to give it a go.  My blog post talked about the poem arriving in full in my head, but it's no longer there.  Happily, my blog post gave some details about what I planned to write:  "It will contrast her past life, when she went to salons that served wine along dreams about what a hair cut and color could give us, with a current life in the midst of a climate crisis--or will it be post apocalypse? I have a vision of Cassandra who knows how to use plants to coax life from a womb or end it, to use plants to stave off infection, to poison or to cure. But for the most part, she uses her vast garden (and the nature preserve beyond her property) to color cloth and to dye her hair."

I decided to paint the poem with apocalyptic tones.  Here's how it begins:

I uncork the last bottle of white wine,
an extravagance I may regret later if I need
to disinfect, if I need to forget.

The poem came easily.  I had that uneasy feeling that back in August, I had an idea for an even better poem.  I shrugged off that feeling and kept writing.  I've ended up with a decent poem--but is it finished?  I'll keep the document open and see.

I'm also thinking of my poetry process these days.  Once I wrote poems longhand on purple legal pads, but these days, I open a document on the computer, and I toggle back and forth.  I'm getting more written that way.  It's not as easy to go back to rough drafts and leaf through them, the way it is in a legal pad.

I am so happy that I wrote a poem.  It's been weeks of writing a few lines and then sputtering.  And in the spirit of appreciation for August Kristin who left me poem notes, let me write down an idea for another poem I had as I drove back from Lutheranch, back across Georgia on Sunday.

I thought about what and who had previously been on the land, about Harriet Tubman leading slaves to safety.  I thought about dark skies and scars and reading the stars, a map to freedom, stars that scar the black back of the sky.  I thought about all the people we cannot save, no matter how hard we try.  I thought about writing about Harriet Tubman when she's old and cannot save people anymore, but is that valid?  I realized I don't know much about Harriet Tubman when she's old.  I thought about Harriet Tubman and the Stono River and her spywork during the Civil War.

This blog post has gone in an unexpected direction.  I sat down feeling a bit grumpy because I thought I didn't have much to say.  And now, I have not only a blog post but a new poem--hurrah!

Apples and the Composition Process

I meant to write about Thursday's classes sooner than today--so let me get some details down, while I still remember.  I knew that I wanted to do something with apples in class, but did I want to do a whole mini-festival?  Something with pumpkin bread and apples and candy corn?  In the end, I decided to just go with apples.  

I bought a bushel because I wanted to have enough to feel like students could take more than 1 apple.  I wanted apples left over for my household.  I wasn't exactly sure how I wanted to use apples in class, but I knew I wanted it to lead a daily writing, and perhaps more.

Could I develop something that I used in both my first year Literature and first year Composition classes?  Of course I could!

In both classes, we read "Summer Apples" by Cathryn Essinger.  We talked about the startling way the poem starts, those stunning first 2 lines, and we worked our way through the poem to the ending that is so perfect.  We talked about memory and aging and the potential in seeds.  

For my Lit class, I started by having them talk about their personal history with both apples and other fruits.  I asked where we saw apples in literature, and we talked about the Garden of Eden and Snow White.  And yes, there are plenty of other apple possibilities, but we just talked about those two.  I asked if they could conceive of a piece of literature--a poem or a song or a piece of fiction, where the apple in the Garden of Eden or Snow White's apple had a voice and a perspective.  For my Composition class, we went to the next part of the exercise.

For both classes, I asked questions that I hoped would lead to a different way of seeing.  What color is this apple?  Green.  All green.  Some brown.  Describe the color of green.  Now describe it by a comparison:  The green of this apple is like the new grass of spring, not the dying grass of late September.  Now try for something more unusual:  The green of this apple is like the color of my true love's eyes, soaked from crying because I'm leaving one last time.

I asked them to listen to the apple.  What did they hear?  What does this apple have to say if it had a voice?

If they wanted to, I had them taste the apple.  What does it taste like?  What kind of sweetness/tartness?  What is that like?

We did the same thing with the other senses, and then I had them write.  I asked them to write half a page or more that would give me something evocative about apples.  They had lots of choices--a poem perhaps, something in the voice of an apple or the apple standing for something else.

I think it worked well.  In the Composition class, one student exclaimed, "I love this class!"  I don't think she was doing it to ingratiate herself to me.  

My Lit class is a bit harder.  About 8 of the 24 students are routinely involved.  Many of the others just sit and try to resist the lure of their phones--with varying degrees of success.  Occasionally, one or two engage, but often not.  They're not hostile, exactly, but they are more vacant than I would like.

I continue on in the hope that maybe their engagement looks different.  Or maybe my class offers some other kind of benefit, even if they're not engaged in the way I would like.  Even if it's just a respite, that would be fine too.

Bread Making Process for Large Groups

Last night I had a classic anxiety dream--I was in a class, and something was due, but I thought it was due the following week.  I woke up and made a list in my head to make sure I'm not missing something.  I'm still feeling anxious this morning, even though I haven't missed anything.

I am in that time of the term where I'm thinking of all the balls I'm juggling and trying not to think about it.  If I just keep going, I'm less likely to drop a ball.  If I look down, I may drop all the balls.  So, in an effort to calm my jittery self, let me reflect a bit on bread baking with a huge group of easily distracted middle school confirmands.  I accidentally created a successful approach that I want to remember.

I wanted to talk about yeast and bread in general, but I also wanted to make quick breads for our Communion bread.  So I decided to do both.  The first thing we did as a group was to look at yeast.  I walked in front of each child and held out a spoonful, commenting on the small grains.  

Then I sprinkled 5 spoonfuls in a bowl of water and showed the bowl to each person.  I commented on how it looked like lake water with algae in it.  I set it aside.

I had the bread making supplies on two tables, and my vision was that one group would make quick bread with regular flour and one would make it with gluten free flour.  

That part of the process went fairly well.  Each table had 8-10 children, and we dumped the ingredients in the big bowl, stirred and stirred, and then made the dough into rounds.  

At a certain point, restlessness happened, so I had everyone line up against the back wall to look at the bowl of yeast and water.  It was bubbly, and we talked about what yeast does, and why Jesus had the parable about the yeast.  What does it mean to be leaven in the loaf?  Why does Jesus call himself bread?  We talked about how lots of people have sustained themselves with not much else but bread.  We talked about the other types of food we know that ancient people ate, olives and lamb and small birds.  Bread is much more affordable and sustainable.

We came back to the table to finish up the quick bread and to add ingredients to the yeast bread bowl.  We added oil and honey, along with milk and more flour.   The confirmands had a chance to mix and knead with their hands (not required, since I know not everyone likes to get their hands messy).  The first group even got a ball of dough to shape.

 

The first group, a smaller group, did a good job of sharing the tasks, but the larger group was not skilled that way.  So I changed course.   I had everyone line up to take a turn at the bowl.  I said, "Mix, mix, move aside."  So everyone stirred 3-6 times and stepped aside.  Every so often, I dumped some flour or milk in the bowl.  I did the same thing with kneading.  The quick pace kept people focused.  They seemed to have fun, but more important, everyone got a chance to participate.

I didn't give the second group a chance to shape their own ball of dough.  They needed to get cleaned up and back to the main group.  But I also didn't want to risk what might happen if they had much more than a quick encounter with the dough:  dough in hair, dough flung across the room, not enough dough for bread to bake.  Once the confirmands went back to the main group, I washed my hands and took the trays in to the large group.

I said, "Look how much your bread dough has risen in the last half hour.  This is what it means to be leaven in the loaf.  This is your task, to be leaven in the loaf of your community."  I said it in my loud booming voice, and it got everyone's attention.

Then I went back and finished shaping the loaves and watching over the baking of them.  The kitchen staff and some of the grown ups helped me clean up.  

Once the bread cooled, I decided it was wise to slice the loaves in advance.  We were giving people a chance to taste the breads with their dinner, and I didn't want everyone waiting while I sliced bread.

I was pleased that everyone had a chance to try whichever kinds of bread they wanted and even to come back for seconds.  

It was very neat to worship the next day with the bread that we had created as part of communion.  I didn't have a chance to see if the confirmands found it as moving as I did.  

What I'd really like to be able to do is to check with them in 20 years to see if they remember, or who remembers what.  But most of us don't get to do that.  We do the work and we hope that some of it takes.

Confirmation Camp Overview

Tomorrow I will write in more detail about the bread baking at Confirmation Camp yesterday.  Last night I made this Facebook post which gives an overview of a more in-depth piece of writing that will come in the future:  "At some point, I'll write more and include pictures, but let me just say that out of the chaos of baking with 44 middle school confirmands came amazing bread: yeasted and quick breads, gluten free and wheat flour breads. We talked about what it means to be the leaven in the loaf, and then we ate our loaves. We talked about how God is forgiving, just like the process of bread baking, and then we made huge batches of bread without a recipe. It was amazing."

It's amazing to think that my total time with the confirmands creating bread dough was only an hour:  roughly half an hour with each group of 22.  Here I am with a pan of their dough that had risen, and I reminded the whole group what we had talked about, what it means to be yeast, how something tiny can bubble up into something that will nourish a whole community.

But there were other memorable moments too.  I led a group on a labyrinth walk.  Lutheranch has the most unusual labyrinth I've ever seen:  instead of clearing out trees to make the labyrinth, the labyrinth winds around the trees.  To get to it, you walk up a little trail.  It felt completely remote, yet we could hear the group of confirmands who had gone swimming in the lake and a cow at a nearby farm.  It was wonderful.

I also want to remember how many people were enthusiastic about art.  I'm sure that some of them were sketching and doodling out of boredom.  I pulled out my sketchbook during the morning baptism large group session, not out of boredom but as a way to stay focused.  One of the girls asked me about my sketching at break, and I offered to share supplies.  I showed her various markers and gave her a blank page out of my sketchbook.  Her grandmother was one of the adults there, and she thanked me for taking time with her granddaughter, but it was a great experience for me too.

The meals have been good, and I have been surprised at how much food middle schoolers consume.  We had fresh fruit at breakfast yesterday, and it was all gone by the time I walked through the serving line at the end.  I'm not complaining, mind you.  But I'm almost sure that my generation, when we were younger, would have walked right by that fruit.

Of course, we wouldn't have had the same wonderful mix of fruit.  I don't think I tasted fresh pineapple until late in my college years, if then.

The moon is full, and there's not really a great set up for writing in this room.  Let me go out and enjoy the view of it one last time, in this rural Georgia setting.