Time to Fill the Thanksgiving Book Basket

Are you living a storybook year? Our book-a-day selections for this month come from Chris Scarlett, who graciously shared this list and her notes with me (and you!). A book a day and then some from now until Thanksgiving. Thanks so much, Chris!

For The Younger Set:
My First Thanksgiving (board book) by Tomie dePaola (super simple for toddlers)

Thanks For Thanksgiving by Julie Markes, illustrated by Doris Barrette (bright, bold colors and simple rhymes)

 Countdown to Thanksgiving by Jodi Huelin, illustrated by Keiko Motoyama (family-oriented)

Thanksgiving Is Here! by Diane Goode (big, busy family)

 1, 2, 3 Thanksgiving by W. Nikola-Lisa, illustrated by Robin Kramer (doubles as a counting book from 1-10 and 10-1)

 The First Thanksgiving Day: A Counting Story by Laura Krauss Melmed, illustrated by Mark Buehner (1-12, brief rhymes, nice pics)

Thanksgiving by Brenda Haugen, illustrated by Todd Ouren (sweet overview)

Thanksgiving Is... by Gail Gibbons (colorful, brief highlights)

The Very First Thankgiving Day by Rhonda Gowler Greene, paintings by Susan Gaber (lovely illustrations)

Fancy Nancy, Our Thanksgiving Banquet based on Fancy Nancy written by Jane O'Connor, illustrated by Glasser, Fletcher, and Drainville (we completely missed out on this commercial brand, but I think this one is charming for girly-girls and their moms)

Saying Grace, A Prayer of Thanksgiving by Virginia Kroll, illustrated by Timothy Ladwig (pioneer girl)

The Pilgrims' First Thanksgiving by Ann McGovern, illustrated by Elroy Freem (basic, gets the job done)

Thanksgiving by Dana Meachen Rau (simple school-type overview)

This Is the Feast by Diane Shore, illustrated by Megan Lloyd (bold, attractive pictures, rhyming)

 Thanksgiving Treat by Catherine Stock (a grandpa story)

"Potluck" For School Aged Children:
 Let's Throw A Thanksgiving Party! by Rachel Lynette (nice photos, very doable recipes and crafts, will click with Family Fun magazine fans)

P is for Pilgrim a Thanksgiving alphabet, illustrated by Helle Urban (written at two age levels, with poetry and prose, fact-packed and gorgeous)

 Oh, What A Thanksgiving! by Steven Kroll, illustrated by S. D. Schindler (modern schoolboy imagining a parallel life as a Pilgrim kid, fun)

 N. C. Wyeth's Pilgrims, text by Robert San Souci (BOGO alert--art appreciation and educational)

 The Thanksgiving Story by Alice Dalgliesh (vintage Caldecott, lovely wording)

Squanto and the Miracle of Thanksgiving by Eric Metaxas, illustrated by Shannon Stirnweis (check out the Catholic connection here)

Squanto, Friend of the Pilgrims by Clyde Robert Bulla, pictures by Peter Burchard (old school bio, sparsely illustrated)

 Squanto's Journey: The Story of the First Thanksgiving by Joseph Bruchac, illustrated by Greg Shed (one of the best Squanto books out there)

 If You Were There At The First Thanksgiving by Anne Kamma, illustrated by Bert Dodson (classic series, Q&A format)

The First Thanksgiving Feast by Joan Anderson, photographed by George Ancona (beautiful B&W photos of re-enactors at Plimouth Plantation)

A World Of Holidays, Thanksgiving by Marilyn Miller (overview, colorful photos)

 The Pilgrims' Thanksgiving from A to Z by Laura Crawford, illustrated by Judith Hierstein (organized as an alphabet book, would be a good way to kick-off or wrap up a mini-unit study, pretty)

The First Thanksgiving by Linda Hayward, illustrated by James Watling (interesting early reader)

Three Young Pilgrims by Cheryl Harness (attractive and very well-researched)

Eating The Plates: A Pilgrim Book of Food and Manners by Lucille Recht Penner (foodies might like this chapter book)

1620 Year of the Pilgrims by Genevieve Foster (a meaty chapter book)

 1621: A New Look At Thanksgiving by Catherine O'Neill Grace and Margaret M. Bruchac, photos by Sisse Brimberg and Colton Coulson (detailed)

 Giving Thanks: The 1621 Harvest Feast by Kate Waters, photos by Russ Kendall (parallel stories of Pilgrim boy and Indian boy at Plimoth Plantation)

Thank You, Sarah: The Woman Who Saved Thanksgiving by Laurie Halse Anderson, illustrated by Matt Faulkner (Can you say perseverance? charmingly told, girl power--in a good way)

 Sarah Gives Thanks by Mike Allegra, illustrated by David Gardner (more straightforward than the previous title about Sarah Josepha Hale, a good complement to it)

 A Thanksgiving Wish by Michael Rosen, paintings by John Thompson (missing departed grandma, a wishbone story, not a downer)

 Fat Chance Thanksgiving by Pat Lakin, illustrated by Stacey Schuett (kids' initiative brings neighbors together)

 Thanksgiving On Plymouth Plantation by Diane Stanley, illustrated by Holly Berry (bland title for an imaginary time-travel tale with grandma as teacher using comic speech bubbles, very kid-friendly) 

 The Thanksgiving Door by Debby Atwell (an elderly couple is included in a family meal at an ethnic restaurant)

 The Firefighters' Thanksgiving by Maribeth Boelts, illustrated by Terry Widener (whole lot of action here for one day)

Turkey Bowl by Phil Bilder, illustrated by C. F. Payne (let's hear it for the boys in this family football story)

 The Memory Cupboard: A Thanksgiving Story by Charlotte Herman, paintings by Ben F. Stahl (people and memories are more important than things, don't miss this one)

The Pilgrims of Plimoth by Marcia Sewall (quaintly written in first person, present tense)

The First Thanksgiving by Jean Craighead George, illustrated by Thomas Locker (well told, Dutch Masters-style paintings)

Thanksgiving Day, A Time To Be Thankful by Elaine Landau (overview that would be nice for a schoolish report)

 The Thanksgiving Bowl by Virginia Kroll, illustrated by Philomena O'Neill (cute, far-fetched, convoluted tale)

Thanksgiving Day Alphabet by Beverly Barras Vidrine, illustrated by Alison Davis Lyne (use this one to summarize and review the whole unit of study)

One For The Oldest Students:
Thanksgiving, The True Story by Penny Colman (nice reference for fact-checking teens or parents)
Junior high and high schoolers may enjoy reading some from the previous level aloud to siblings (or children they babysit). 

A REWARD IF YOU ARE STILL WITH ME HERE:
 The Perfect Thanksgiving by Eileen Spinelli, illustrated by JoAnn Adinolfi (Hilarious. Highly recommended. Shhh. We will be reading this one to all the big Scarlett kids on Turkey Day this year. Thankfully, most of our families fall somewhere on the continuum between the extremes of the Martha Stewart-ish and the "redneck" clans depicted here.)

For more about our Storybook Year, please visit  here. 

(And many thanks to Nicky for all the linking. He's a coding machine:-)

Gathering my Thoughts

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

I find myself:

::noticing God's glory

The Bradford Pear tree in my front yard is always late to the autumn color show. I’m so glad. All the other trees are faded and nearly bare. This big beauty still has most of her leaves and they are turning from green to a glorious red. Lovely, lovely, lovely.

We planted 90 bulbs last week--one for every year that Granddad lived. In the springtime they will radiate all kinds of glorious color. At least I hope they will.

::listening to 

soccer practice. It’s the Monday routine, no? It’s quite chilly. Regular season games have ended. And still, Stephen has four practices this week and a couple weekend scrimmages in the works. There is no off-season, friends.

::clothing myself in 

Yoga pants, sweatshirt, and hand knit cashmere socks sent to me by Elizabeth DeHority. I spent the day cleaning the basement. I did shower and change but when I did, I just got dressed in another variation of the same. I’m going to sit in the car and write for an hour and a half and then go home, put small people to bed, sleep, and repeat the entire process. Mike’s out of town until Tuesday late. Not a much here that calls for earrings or proper clothing.

::talking with my children about these books

Jan Brett’s new book Cinders arrived a few days ago. Love, love, love that our fairytale explorations can take on a new volume.

::thinking and thinking

About all the things I thought I was going to do this year, mostly writing projects and speaking opportunities and all the things I did instead, mostly mothering. Thinking what a grace it is to be at peace with that equation.

::pondering prayerfully

“Our condemnation is often the veil for our own weakness: we cover up our own nakedness with the mantle of criticism; we see the mote in our brother’s eye, but never the beam in our own.” ~Venerable Fulton Sheen

::carefully cultivating rhythm

We are intentionally living each November day according to the healing plan. So far, so good.

::creating by hand

Surprises to send across the country.

::learning lessons in

Grief and gratitude. One is more bearable if every time it invades my brain space I chase it with the other.

::encouraging learning 

Had a discussion of “logistics” with one of my children today. Said child asked, “What, exactly, are the logistics that get a baby into a mom?” Um. Not the UPS man, my dear.

::begging prayers

for all the intentions of our prayer community.

::keeping house

I am on a serious deep cleaning mission. Everywhere. Absolutely everywhere. It’s purge and vacuum in every corner of my house. Amen.

And today is that glorious day every fall when all the laundry gets caught up.

::crafting in the kitchen 

I deep cleaned the pantry yesterday. I took everything out, wiped it all down, and put back only healthy things. For me, this appears to be a first step every time I successfully get back on the grain-free/dairy free wagon. I desperately need to get back on that wagon.

There are a few baking mixes on the top shelf, reserved in case we are required to bake on a moment’s notice (yes, that does happen). Other than that, there is nothing but whole food in my kitchen. By the way, somehow I have come to possess six pounds of red lentils and four pounds of green lentils. Feel free to share your favorite lentil recipes. I’d be most appreciative.

::loving the moments

when I know I just invested a whole day in the hearts of my children.

::giving thanks 

for a home my children truly love.

living the liturgy

I’ve moved my morning Liturgy of the Hours time yet again. Sarah Annie loves to cuddle first thing when she wakes up. She wants me to sit and be still and just hold her. Turns out she loves Morning Prayer, too. I’ve promised her that time every day and she holds me to it. We do Night Prayer together, too. In her bed. She’s yet to remain awake until the end. Truly beautiful way to close out the day.

Liturgy is a gift. For me, in times when I’ve doubted or struggled with the community of the Church, it is liturgy that has sustained me. Scripture and prayer and wisdom of the saints of old. A lovely, sustainable rhythm for any day in any season. And if you drift away, it will be right there, unchanged, awaiting your return.

::planning for the week ahead

*More deep cleaning.

*Hopefully, a visit to hold a newborn baby

*Hopefully, a trip to Germantown to the Soccerplex for the ACC semifinals on Friday and finals on Sunday. Hopfully.

*More Nutcracker rehearsals.

*Another soccer tournament for Nick.

Tower of Babel (Babble?)

I think perhaps the Internet is the modern day Tower ofBabel (or is it Babble?) where people of faith gather to be misunderstood.  We all come to this same place, but we are all speaking different languages. Let me explain.

 

Last spring, during Bluebell Week, I posted from the woods. This was a mistake on my part, as I tend to post hastily when I post from my phone.  Anyhow, I did it. I put up a picture of Nicky holding a fish between two sticks and the simple message “Gone Fishing.” I thought I was oh-so-clever. I was planning to check out for the week. “Gone Fishing.” Get it? Am I the only one who hears the Andy Griffith theme song? Anyway, I did check out for the week. And I didn’t check comments. There, in my combox, people had a lively conversation about Nick’s inhumane treatment of the fish. It went on for some time. Back and forth about how and whether and why to kill a fish.

The thing is? The fish was already dead when Nick picked up the fish. It couldn’t be inhumane because the fish was floating belly up when he “caught it” between the sticks. So, they were arguing passionately about a non-event.

A few months later, I re-posted my screen rules to the MomHeart website. At the time, MomHeart was in the midst of transition and author bios didn’t appear beneath the posts. (MomHeart has been moved to I Take Joy now, by the way.) I didn’t know that there were no bios and really, even if I had, I wouldn’t have given it much thought. A commenter took some time telling me all about how I would change my mind when I had children in middle school or older.  Then, I’d recognize how they needed to learn their ways around the web and be tech-savvy. In closing, she threw in something I really didn’t understand about kids and tattoos. I imagine she was surprised to learn that I have five children older than middle-school age, that my oldest is the managing editor of USA Today’s sports social media site, and that all my adult children have tattoos. She’d made some big assumptions without really knowing me and she read my words in a different language because of her paradigm.

In a much more painful scenario, some grown women picked apart the Serendipity Alphabet Path story (among a great many other things) on a message board a few years ago. To this day, I wonder if they simply hadn’t read all the posts where I discussed my 12-year-old’s authorship of that story or if they really did intend to destroy a child’s perception of her work. Regardless, my daughter has never written fiction again.  Her dream of writing children’s stories died on that message board. And her perception of homeschooling mothers was altered forever. I have to believe we weren’t all speaking the same language. If I don’t believe that, I believe some pretty awful things about human nature.

People say things online they would never say in person.

And so that brings me to friendships. It’s a very tricky thing to navigate an online friendship. We think we’re reading carefully. We think we’re in the same paradigm. But it’s entirely possible we are not. It’s entirely possible we are assuming things because that’s the way we “do friendship.” I’m notorious for assuming a level of intimacy and kinship because I’m granting that level. It’s a foolish thing (and I’m working on it, truly), because I’ve learned that even though I think people feel the same way about me as I do them, often they do not.  (There are rare exceptions and I thank God for those.)

What’s the takeaway from it all? Balance, I suppose. In the case of blog posts, we need to read reminding ourselves that we rarely have the whole picture (the fish was dead, my kids are older, the story was written by a twelve-year-old for her little sisters) and we bring our own experiences, not the author’s, to our reading. In the case of friendships made online, balance means face-to-face, voice-to-voice conversations before plunging into heart-sharing. And even then, tread carefully. Likely, it’s not exactly what you think it is.

 Give grace more readily. Apologize more quickly. Forgive more easily.

It’s OK to assume the best. Even after all these years, I still do. I’m just not quite as surprised when it isn’t all I assumed it would be.

And balance also means investing as much or, preferably, more time in local friendships, where every dimension can flourish and where all the works of mercy can be lived in the relationship.

It’s worth it to work at relationships online. There is much that is good to be gleaned on the internet. There is much to learn. There is much to share. There is much to give.

Be careful out there;-).

this is an image i never imagined capturing.

this is an image i never imagined sharing.

this is an image i am certain many readers never thought they'd see here.

yet, here it is. 

i love this kid, ink and all.

Lord, Hear Our Prayer

The internet is a formidable force for bringing the comfort and consolation and hope of the Lord to all of us. It can be an incredibily powerful medium for community. There is an unfathomable resource for prayer here. We have on the 'net the privilege of praying for people and of being witness to the miracles brought forth when fervent, faith-filled people pray for one another.

Let's be that community of hope and faith for one another.

How about this idea? What if I pop in here every week, share Sunday's gospel and talk a wee bit about how we can live it and pray it in our homes? And then you tell me how we can pray for you that week? Deal?

{And please, do return and let us know how prayer is bearing fruit.} 

Gospel

Luke 20:27, 34-38

Some Sadducees, those who deny that there is a resurrection,
came forward.

Jesus said to them,
"The children of this age marry and remarry;
but those who are deemed worthy to attain to the coming age
and to the resurrection of the dead
neither marry nor are given in marriage. 
They can no longer die,
for they are like angels;
and they are the children of God
because they are the ones who will rise. 
That the dead will rise
even Moses made known in the passage about the bush,
when he called out 'Lord, '
the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob;
and he is not God of the dead, but of the living,
for to him all are alive."

Think

This, then is the full sactisfaction of souls; this is the happy life: to recognize piously and completely the One through whom you are led into the truth, the nature of the truth you enjoy, and the bond that connects you with supreme measure.

~St. Augustine

Pray

God, I tend to seek satisfaction in everything but you. Draw my attention away from the many "things" I fill my life with and help me to focus more clearly on you--the one who truly satisfies.

Act

Clean out a closet today. Clear out the clutter and set aside clothing and other items to give away. Reflect on God's goodness and, when in doubt, err on the side of generosity.

How can I pray for you this week?

This week's Think<>Pray<>Act was taken from Small Steps for Catholic Moms.

Looking at it Through a Lens

A few years ago, within days of one another, Ginny and Ann both gave me some advice. They encouraged me to buy a good camera and lens, to take it in my hands, to learn to use it, and so, to open a new window on my world.  I took their words to heart, but it has taken me some time to put them into action.

Last winter, with Ginny’s guidance, I bought a new lens. And then, a new camera. I played with them a little, but nothing really clicked (no pun intended). I certainly didn’t fall in love with camera, lens, or photography.  Ann’s words, in particular, rang in my head, but they still sounded hollow. She wanted me to see differently through a lens, to grab what I was seeing and truly appreciate it. To be grateful for the image and for what it represented. That whole experience evaded me.

Then, my father-in-love died. I spent most of the first week sorting through images. I was looking for pictures of him to gather into collages for the visitation. Over the course of several days, I ended up walking though both his life and mine. There were pictures of him as a young father (Mike’s oldest brother is 66). There were pictures of my husband’s childhood. And then, there were glorious pictures of my babies, of me, of our young family.

 Most of those pictures were taken by Christian’s godfather, who is a gifted photographer and spent countless hours with us in his bachelor days. I am so very grateful for the gift of the images. Somewhere along the way, in those very painful days after the funeral, I picked up my camera. And I looked at it differently. I looked through it differently.

The first time my camera and I walked together in this new way, Stephen was playing the State Cup finals. It was a beautiful day. A happy day. A painfully raw day. Everyone was there. But someone was missing. The blue chairs were there. I couldn’t bear to sit in one of them. Actually, I couldn’t bear to sit at all. It was too reminiscent of the spring, when we were all there in the same place for Nick’s final. Only then, we were all there.

I borrowed Michael’s big lens and took myself down to the end of the field, away from the crowd. I lifted the camera to my face and I looked. I looked at the sidelines, where Paddy and Mike sat in the chairs. I looked at my father, who was all too aware that Mike’s dad wasn’t there. I looked away from the shadow across his face. Mortality. There it was.

I began to understand that afternoon why a musician feels the way he does about his guitar, why a baseball player becomes attached to his bat. I captured images that day and my camera captured my heart. Suddenly everything was about the light. I began to notice light. Really notice.  I learned that I could tell a story with pictures and that sometimes, when words failed, the pictures were just as good. Perhaps one day, the pictures will be even better. I’d be quite pleased if words and pictures together could tell my story, could speak to how grateful I am for these full days.

A few days later, we traveled to Charlottesville to watch Patrick play. I brought along Granddad’s jacket that night, expecting a chill when night fell. It’s my jacket now and I plan to wear it well. I couldn’t that night, though. Mike was in short sleeves and needed it more and well, the jacket, the chair—I just can’t right now. Instead, I tucked my sweater around myself, put the camera strap around my neck, and took Ginny’s advice to heart: Focus with your feet. Move to the shot.

Move I did. Don’t tell Stephen, but photographing Patrick is far more challenging. Everyone was moving so much faster. I have seen a million soccer games, give or take a few. I’ve never noticed one the way I noticed this one. I love the buzz and click sound the lens makes. I love it when I get lucky (because right now it’s all pure luck) and the shot is a good one.

I love these days. And I’m grateful. 

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.