If I Could

I think the conversation began after a hot lunch I served at school. My friend "Twila" showed up to volunteer in the classroom, but first she helped me serve the food.

"If I could, I would start a coffee shop in Harrisburg," she said. She had it all down--the baked goods, the decor, the clientele.

All she needed was the time, the money, and a few other small details.

I've found that most of us go around with an "If I could" idea in our heads.

Emily has a similar idea for a shop in Harrisburg. She even has the place picked out, an old empty brick building with an arched front, a little courtyard behind a fence, and a tiny attached house. She calls it "Whispering Winds" and went so far as to have a real estate agent give her a tour of the place.

She's a bit vague about what services or products she would actually offer there. Also, she lacks a few small details like time, money, and being able to be in two places at once, since she wants to go on the mission field after college.

I told Twila that I also have an "If I could" for a business in Harrisburg, and that is a fabric/paper/tea shop. In addition to the normal quilting cottons I'd have a stash of fabrics that a person would actually wear. I'd have a comfy chair and coffee and Outdoor Life magazines for waiting husbands. And in the back I'd have a room for my Fabric Exchange, where you could bring in fabric from your stash and get so many points based on yardage and quality, and then you could pick out what you wanted, for similar pointage, from the stash that others had contributed. I wouldn't get anything out of it but I think it would be fun.

Also, with Emily working at Grocery Depot, I've been thinking that there just has to be a whole hidden industry out there of damaged and outdated fabric just like there is for bent-n-dent lotions and canned vegetables. How do I tap into that delightful river, I wonder?

I haven't thought out the paper and tea part as well, especially since I don't see myself baking scones and other dainties to sell. Maybe I'd just brew a pot of tea and sit down with customers and let them sip free tea while we talk.

All that stands in my way is . . . everything.

Someday when Emily is out of college and Twila's and my children are all grown up and I figure out how to be organized, we'll all have to collaborate on the Perfect Business in Harrisburg.


I have an even bigger "if I could" and that is a house at the coast. It would be on the west side of Highway 101 so you could take children to the beach without crossing that busy road. It would have lots of space for big families or groups. Our family could go out for brief retreats from real life, Paul and I could go there for time alone, and Emily and I could go there for a week at a time to work on our novels. We could use it for Bible Memory Camp, Ladies' Retreat, and the annual Youth Coast Trip. We could rent it out for a reasonable price to Mennonite families who always have a hard time finding a place both large and affordable and who could be counted on to clean up after themselves. Most of all, I could offer it free to missionaries on furlough who desperately need rest but could never afford to rent a place.

All that stands in my way is a million unsold books and free weekends to drive out and keep the place up.

Meanwhile, I wonder, what is the "If I could" floating around in everyone else's head?

Quote of the Day:
Jenny: [sitting on her bed one night, solemnly pronouncing] You know, I'm not that interested in bugs any more.
[Pause]
Jenny: I'm not gonna be an entomologist.
Me: You're not?
Jenny: [suddenly noticing picture of butterfly on her pillowcase] Oh my goodness!! It's a swallowtail! An eastern tiger swallowtail!!!

Short Poem And Long Explanation

When I write something, I always want people to "get" what I'm trying to say.

You might think "duh" but believe me I have been in plenty of critique groups and on plenty of blogs where writers prided themselves on turning out such obscure, foggy, wafting, poetic stuff that only they themselves and an Enlightened Few could understand it.

Not me.

You can't get any more normal-reader than Paul, who is only interested in what a piece says at first rapid read, and if it doesn't tell him anything, then what's the point?

So if I write something and he gets it, I know I'm good to go with the rest of the world as well.

On Thanksgiving morning I woke up feeling heavy in spirit. We've had a lot of difficulties recently, a lot of decisions to make, and a good share of misunderstanding and such, and I'm sorry to make you curious but I can't elaborate.

What if I were thankful for all of THAT, I thought, and recoiled at the very thought, and then reconsidered.

And then I got up and wrote a poem about determining to give thanks for those things we don't normally feel warm and grateful for on Thanksgiving.

I posted it here on the Shoe.

And then I had second thoughts. Who did I think I was, writing poetry?

So I had Paul and Jenny read it. Both were completely mystified at what I was trying to say. Something about whining about all the awful stuff in my life??

Ok, then there was no way anyone else would get it.

So I pulled it off.

Well, today Shelley the nephew's wifelet posted about Thanksgiving. And she referenced my poem, which wasn't there when she went looking for it again, and she had completely understood it, I could tell.

So I'm going to post it again. I've learned three things: A) Maybe going solely on Smucker-by-birth evaluations isn't always the best idea B) A simple word of encouragement from you can make a big difference to someone else. Thanks, Shelley! and C) As long as at least a few people understand you, it doesn't matter so much if the rest don't.

THANKSGIVING

I normally give thanks this day

For all the good and pleasant stuff

Like tea and health and family

And house and clothes and food enough.

-----

A longer list is left unsaid:

The things I don’t appreciate:

Frustration, pain, and endless work

The silence while I pray and wait.

-----

Today I’m stepping out in faith

To see these too as gifts and grace

My thanks a symbol of my trust

Of purpose not of useless waste.

-----

The cat with worms; the hungry teen

Who ate that Starbucks bar I’d hid;

The wind and rain; the gaining weight;

The suddenly-defiant kid.

-----

I thank Him for the blogger moms

with hits a thousand times of mine,

The memories that still return

Of pain and shame when I was nine.

-----

The folks who irritate me so

With grating quirks and talking much,

The ones who don’t appreciate

My friendly intervening touch.

-----

The situations I can’t fix

That drive me to despair and tears.

The quiet suffering that lasts

For days, then weeks, then months and years.

-----

The niece with infertility—

Should I give thanks for good held back?

For loved ones deep in grief and loss?

For Kenyan friends with constant lack?

-----

The words I have to leave unsaid,

And situations I can't share.

The deep regrets of choices past

The list of things that seem unfair.

-----

I come today with hands held out

To trust the Father’s hands to sift

Through all the life that comes my way

And thank Him for His choice of gift.

Thanksgiving N Stuff

As always the book giveaway has been a ton of fun and I have a stack of brown envelopes here ready to mail on Monday.

And as always the stories that come with the nominations are simply heartbreaking and they all qualified by my rather subjective standards. Well, all those unfortunate people are so blessed to have friends and family like you to care for them.

And I haven't reached my max yet so feel free to send me a few more names. dorcassmucker@gmail.com

I hope you all had a nice Thanksgiving and long weekend.

On Monday the school kids had a Thanksgiving party. Jenny of course wore the outfit in the recent tutorial, and Paul, of the great dignity and lack of drama, agreed to dress up as well.
On Thanksgiving Day we had dinner at the church fellowship hall with a fun combination of people that included Aunt Allene, Uncle Milford and Aunt Susie, Stanley Warfel, Paul's mom, Uncle James and Aunt Orpha, and my brother Phil and his wife and family. This was the first holiday in a long time that Phil and Geneva could just up and go somewhere, as they've been caring for Geneva's dad for six years. He passed away at age 91 two weeks ago and now their lives and routines are completely different.

Yesterday we all went outside and cleaned the yard in one marathon work session. Paul and the children raked leaves while I trimmed and pulled and swept in flower beds.

Steven innocently rakes leaves onto an innocent pile.

Surprise!

I also sewed a quilted purse, something I've wanted to do for a long time. I like the look and feel of Vera Bradley bags, but not the prices, so I made my own and am very happy with it.

Then Jenny got inspired to make a drawstring backpack.


Tomorrow Steven and a bunch of his friends get baptized.

We are very blessed.

Quote of the Day:
[stolen from Emily's Facebook page, so "Me" is her.]

Steven:It's gonna beep!
Fire alarm: Beep, beep, beep!!!
Me: Steven, what did you push??
Steven: There's a fire! Hee hee hee
Me: (very annoyed) Steven, WHAT DID YOU PUSH?
Steven: I pushed your buttons.

On Reading To Children

My educational philosophy came from
a) how I was raised
b) intuition
c) the situation I was in
d) one random class I took on creativity for pre-schoolers
e) what my children were like.

So there we were, way up north, out of the educational winds that blow through American/Christian/Mennonite society. We had very few electronic devices. But we had books. And time.

We also had phenomenally smart, curious, engaged, creative children. Ok, doesn't every parent say that? No, but they should. I've had people tell me, "Your kids are so clever. They say the most amazing things." True, but I want to say, "LISTEN TO YOUR CHILDREN. You'd figure out how clever they are too."

So, this became my strategy for "educating" my preschoolers:
1. Read to them.
2. Answer their questions.
3. Let them bake and do other work with you.
4. Turn them loose when they play and don't over-manage things.
5. Limit screen time.

Obviously this worked, if you know our children at all.

Later Paul became the school principal and through anguished phone calls from young moms I came to realize how hideously complicated our culture has made the preschool years. My word. These moms would detail to me how they got THIS workbook for their 4-year-old and THAT one when they were five, and how much should they be reading when they come to school, and Ruth likes CLP Learning-to-Read but Tina likes ACE and their cousin likes Sing-Spell-Read-&-Write and oh, dear, what if little Harold can't read nursery rhymes by September?

And always, always, they were sure they hadn't done enough and their child wouldn't be ready for school.

And I would always say Calm down. Read to your children. Answer their questions. Let them do stuff with you. Send them outside to play with sticks and mud. And, especially with boys, I'd say, Ditch the workbooks. Dear me, what punishment, to set these wild little 5-year-old boys down to workbooks when they should be outside playing with the dog and running trucks through the sandbox.

I don't think I convinced any of them, unfortunately. Moms like to make things complicated, I think.

Today Matt, of the 118-why-questions-in-one-day-at-age-3 and the recent engineering degree, linked a Thomas Friedman article on his Facebook page. He also noted, "To Mom and Dad: thank you," which made me weepy.

Anyway, Friedman says:
There’s no question that a great teacher can make a huge difference in a student’s achievement, and we need to recruit, train and reward more such teachers. But here’s what some new studies are also showing: We need better parents.

and

“Fifteen-year-old students whose parents often read books with them during their first year of primary school show markedly higher scores in PISA 2009 than students whose parents read with them infrequently or not at all. The performance advantage among students whose parents read to them in their early school years is evident regardless of the family’s socioeconomic background.

There's a lot more. You can read the whole thing here. And while it doesn't advocate following my ideas step by step, it's still really affirming for parents who want to help their children without obsessing over workbooks for 4-year-olds.

If you don't do anything else, you busy young parents, READ TO YOUR CHILDREN.

Quote of the Day:
"It always had this mysterious ending. Was it really just a hedgehog, or could she really talk and stuff? And she had this thing called a pinney. She heated her irons over the fire, which was interesing. And she starched things. I'd never heard of starching things and there was also this thing, the girl could look down people's chimneys or something. and there was like a robin and Mrs. Tiggywinkle washed his red thing (me: waistcoat) and she washed something for Peter Rabbit which is weird cuz he was in a different story. And all her hairpins were wrong side out and you explained to me that was all her prickles because she was a hedgehog and there was a hen, Henny Penny, who always said the same thing I go barefoot barefoot barefoot, and you always said it the same way."
--Emily, when I asked her what books she remembers me reading to her and she went off about The Tale of Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle by Beatrix Potter

Easy Pilgrim Costume

Monday is a dress-up day for the kids at school. They can be either Pilgrims or Indians.

Jenny opted for "Pilgrim" so I got her outfit together today. I thought I'd share the easy-peasy directions for the cap in case there are other moms out there needing a quick Pilgrim-transformation for their daughters.

First you cut a rectangle of white fabric. About 18 inches by 12 inches.

Serge the edges, or turn under and narrow hem. The less in a hurry you are with this, the nicer the result.

On one long edge, fold down about half an inch and iron it. Then sew it along the serged edge.

Turn the fabric over and fold up about 3 inches along the other long edge. Iron it but don't sew it.


When you sew along the narrower fold it makes a neat little casing. Take a foot-long piece of ribbon and thread it through and tie the ends.

If you grew up in my setting, you see white satin ribbon and think "coppa bandel." The rest of you: never mind. So, take two more pieces of ribbon, maybe a foot long each, or less.

Stitch them to the folded edge to tie under the chin.

Here's the finished back.

For the collar, I found a dress pattern with a big collar that lay flat. I took a ruler and pencil and lengthened the front point, then cut out two pieces.
I sewed them together in the back, serged the edges, and sewed on ribbon ties at the front.

Again, less of a hurry, and doing all the edges "right" would make a nicer product.

The apron came from a stash of Great-aunt Berniece's vintage wedding-server aprons.

The dress is one Jenny had on hand.


Quote of the Day:
Jenny: Mother, thou art the best seamstress in all of the New World. Do I look authentic?
Ben: If I were a professor of history, I probably wouldn't say you look authentic. But I guess I'll just say you do.
Jenny: Prithee, Mother, I request permission to kick our brother Ben.

Interview

Some of us, writer types in particular, take ourselves way too seriously and when someone wants to interview us, we talk so much they almost beg us to be quiet.

So maybe we could learn a bit from a certain 9-year-old boy, son of my friend Arlene, who is staying with us (along with his sister) while his folks are at a wedding. I thought I'd interview him and see what clever observations he comes up with. But he didn't see any compelling need to be either talkative or clever.

What a thought.

Q: What do you like to do at our house?

A: I like to play Legos. I like to play chess.

Q: Chess!? Did you play chess at our house?

A: Not really. I like to play puppets.

Q: You were cold last night, right?

A: Yeah.

Q: But not the nite before?

A: Nuh uh.

Q: What do you think of Ben?

A: I think he is nice.

Q: What about Steven?

A: He's kind.

Q: What else?

A: I like it at your house cuz it's fun.

Q: Did you talk to your mom today?

A: Yes.

Q: What did she say?

A: She said hi and are you being good and stuff.
She said are you being kind to others

Q: Is she a good mom?

A: Yeah. My dad is nice too.

Q: Did you talk to him today?

A: Yeah. He also wants me to do some stuff.

What if we all gave such concise answers whenever someone asked us a question? How much more efficient the world would be. And how much quieter.

Quote of the Day:
"Ben, stop using logic and use common sense!"
--Jenny

Column: tea

This month's column is about tea.

The Annual Giveaway

The last two Christmases I've had book giveaways and they were a lot of fun for me but the biggest benefit was hearing all these gut-wrenching stories and realizing how phenomenally blessed we are.

And in giving these people a little bright spot in their holidays, as I got some amazing letters in return that warmed my heart.

So I'm doing it again.

Here's the deal:

You can nominate someone to receive a free book that I've written. Send me an email or Facebook message with their name and address, and tell me why they ought to receive a book. I'm looking for people going through a hard holiday season due to grief, health issues, job loss, etc. If you prefer a specific book, tell me that too. (Ordinary Days, Upstairs the Peasants are Revolting, or Downstairs the Queen is Knitting)

Disclaimers:

Don't nominate yourself. Duh.

Please stick with people with genuine needs rather than "Aunt Sadie is in perfect health and all but she deserves a book because she's so sweet."

Last year two books didn't get out til after the holidays (Sorry!) so this isn't a cast-iron promise that people will get them by Christmas.

I'll limit the number of books I'll give away so it's first come first served.

Drop me your nomination at dorcassmucker@gmail.com

Let the fun begin.