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Archive for the ‘Gratitude’ Category

  Join the Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life Challenge.

Join the Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life Challenge.

Chrismons decorate a large fir tree in our church.

Chrismons decorate a large fir tree in our church.

On Saturday, I attended an Advent Quiet Day led by my friend Brenda. She asked us to contemplate receiving gifts, being a better receiver. Having quiet time in the midst of the bustle of Christmas preparations was a gift that I was there to receive.

I wrote this in my journal.

Gifts abound. Friends who respect and care for me, a family that not only needs me but wants me. The obligations of mothering are fewer as my children become adults. I am given the gift of watching now, watching them be who they are. This watching fills my heart with pride. Sisters–their strong bond keeps them grounded and loved.

For you yourself created my inmost parts; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. Psalm 139

That was long ago.
From my mother’s womb,
I have strayed and lost my way.
I have tarried too long in the weeds.
My hands are scarred.
My feet are swollen and sore.
I cannot wait.
My impatience is debilitating.

I must take time to keep watch and wait.
The darkness of the winter night
soothes my wandering, busy mind.

Rest.
Wait.
Watch.
Recognize the need to walk on.
Take the long road.
The journey will guide you.
Keep walking.

–Margaret Simon

My Christmas wish for you is that you will have time to sit in silence, reflect on your journey, and prepare for the coming of Christ and the coming of a new year.

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  Join the Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life Challenge.

Join the Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life Challenge.

Today I am celebrating my 500th post! I have been blogging for about three and a half years, but only in the last year did I commit to blogging 5 days a week. I connect to The Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life Challenge on Tuesdays, Spiritual Journey Thursday, Poetry Friday, Celebration Saturday, and even started my own round up on Sundays, DigiLit Sunday.

This blogging business is making me braver. I have connected with some of the most supportive people on this earth. Some of my blog friends have become collaborators, some writing partners. On Sunday, I had two Google Hang-outs with fellow bloggers. The first group I met with is working on a presentation idea for NCTE 15. The second group was a writing group I was invited to join. My heart was full after these two meetings with like-minded people who are passionate about their work with students, teachers, and writing.

Whether you read regularly or sporadically, whether you subscribe or link up, whether I’ve met you face to face or only through comments, thank you for being here. Thank you for reading my thoughts and scribblings, for being supportive in any way, and for giving me this space to be myself.

Canada's_fireworks_at_the_2013_Celebration_of_Light_in_Vancouver,_BC

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Lagniappe, a little something extra, in this photo, a rainbow spray reflected from the rising sun.

Lagniappe, a little something extra, in this photo, a rainbow spray reflected from the rising sun.

I do not often resort to absolutes like the word Must, but today I can think of no other way to say what I want to say about gratitude. When Thanksgiving rolls around in the midst of fall, temperatures cool, leaves change and remind us that life ends. We are faced with mortality every time a leaf crunches under our feet. I could focus on this. I could turn my attention to the anger and hatred burning in the buildings of Ferguson. Or I could remember to be grateful.

I choose gratitude. Recently, a close friend has met with tragedy. Two weeks ago, Glenae’s little car hit a sugarcane tractor. She is “lucky to be alive.” Yet beyond the realization that she could be gone is the reality that recovery is hard. I get texts from her mother every day. Every day her text ends with gratitude. I believe in the power of prayer and in the power of community surrounding this family. But to me the most powerful thing, the thing that will pull Glenae through her recovery is her mother’s will to live in gratitude.

We never know when things will change. My husband says, “Anything can happen to anybody at any time.” This is true, so we must live each day in gratitude. I am grateful for the health of my family and myself. I am grateful that I wake up every day to the reflection on the bayou, God’s beauty in nature. I am grateful that I have so many people in my life who give me hope, strength, and love. Living in gratitude will give me strength when things change as they most certainly will. I will face the new day in the knowledge that God’s love is abundant. Happy Thanksgiving!

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Click here to read more #spiritualjourney posts.  Thanks Holly for hosting this roundup!

Click here to read more #spiritualjourney posts. Thanks Holly for hosting this roundup!

Every week Holly posts a theme on Twitter for our #spiritualjourney posts. Every week it seems to be the most appropriate theme. This week is gratitude. I am posting my acceptance speech for the Donald H. Graves Award. I will give this speech this afternoon at the NCTE Elementary Section Get Together. Reading it aloud makes me cry. I am praying I will be able to get through it without croaking up.

Emily snuck our class lemur, Jack, into my bag.  He is helping me write my speech.

Emily snuck our class lemur, Jack, into my bag. He is helping me write my speech.

Thank you, Detra Price-Dennis, and the Elementary Section Steering Committee for this honor. I am overwhelmed and humbled. Writing drives my work with students and my interactions with the world.

Kate DiCamillo, our National Ambassador for Young People’s Literature and one of my favorite children’s authors, says that stories connect us. “When we learn someone else’s story, it shifts the fabric of our being. We are more open. And when we are open, we connect.”

My One Little Word for 2014 is Open, so when I saw the call for submissions to the Donald H. Graves Award, I thought, never in a million years, and why not?

I was encouraged when I saw that Julie Johnson was the 2010 winner. I know her! I read her blog! That is how I have connected to so many wonderful authors and educators. These connections, their stories, have given me courage to be open to new adventures. My fellow blogging teachers have also given me confidence in my own voice through their comments. My small world has grown.

These wider connections have not only enriched my life, but they have affected my students’ lives. Earlier this fall, my 4th grader Emily lost her mother. This should not happen to anyone, let alone to a nine-year-old girl. Of course, I wrote about this profound experience on my blog. Amy Ludwig Vanderwater read it and wrote a poem for Emily. She didn’t say that the poem was for Emily but I knew that she had read my blog.

Someone

Amy became that someone for Emily. When Emily wrote a poem about clouds, she made an Animoto video, so I said to her, “Would you like to dedicate this poem to someone?” Her eyes lowered. I know she thought I meant her mother. But when I said, “Amy Vanderwater,” her eyes danced. We tweeted the poem-movie to Amy. For Poetry Friday the next week, Amy posted it on her blog along with some writing tips from my 4th grader. These connections, these stories, strengthen us when we need it most. Emily feels like a real poet. She will always have that gift, and Amy recognized her and honored her.

I began this journey when I attended the summer institute of the National Writing Project of Acadiana. There, Ann Dobie, director at the time and an important mentor ever since, introduced me to the work of Donald Graves. His philosophy that a teacher of writing must be a writer has entered my heart and soul.

I am grateful to the National Writing Project for supporting my desire to be a writer. I am grateful to the works of mentors like Ralph Fletcher and Aimee Buckner. I am grateful to the Two Writing Teachers, all 6 of them, who support the Slice of Life challenge and hold each teacher/writer in their gentle and wise hands. My family and my colleagues back home in New Iberia give me love, confidence, and the freedom to write and teach in way I believe is right and true.

Our stories connect us and make us partners on this journey of life. I encourage you to be Open, open to the lives of your students and to the lives of others. Write your life and, as Amy Vanderwater reminds us, Be the someone.

My view of the National Harbor from my hotel room at NCTE.  What a beautiful day!

My view of the National Harbor from my hotel room at NCTE. What a beautiful day!

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Discover. Play. Build.

Ruth Ayres invites us the celebrate each week. Click over to her site Discover. Play. Build. to read more celebrations.

celebrate small moments
There has been a tragedy this week, a severe car accident that has sent my good friend Ellen’s daughter and her friend into ICU. They are both stable but have a long road ahead. Please pray for Glenae and Chris, for the wisdom of their doctors, and for their renewal to health.

Amidst tragedy, it is sometimes hard to celebrate. But Ruth asks us to dig deep each Saturday and try to find those little moments (or big ones) to celebrate.

This morning I am sipping coffee in my big red bathrobe. Three things I love: a quiet Saturday morning, my big red bathrobe (the polar blast made it down south), and coffee.

My stack of children's poetry books for judging.

My stack of children’s poetry books for judging.

Cybils judging: I am a round one judge for the Cybils award in children’s poetry. Cybils is the Children’s and Young Adult Bloggers’ Literary Award. What a privilege to be a judge. I love all things poetry. I have been receiving books at my doorstep every day. What fun!

Spanish Festival: Last night I volunteered at the gala for this year’s Spanish Festival. New Iberia was founded by Spain, unlike most of the towns around Acadiana that were settled by Acadians. We began celebrating this origin only a few years ago. Last night, I watched some amazing flamenco dancers. My husband is off to run in the “Running of the Bulls,” a fundraising race. He is dressed in all white with red scarf and tie. We fashioned a handle-bar mustache with a black face crayon. Last year he came home with a medal and a trophy.

2013 Running of the Bulls, Spanish Festival.

2013 Running of the Bulls, Spanish Festival.

Prayer Shawl Ministry: I am enjoying crocheting again. We started a small group of women at our church. This week we sat together and prayed for Glenae and Chris and others who are suffering. Because of the intention of our ministry, I find this group easy to be with and to talk to about my spiritual life. I did not expect this. And I celebrate this ministry. However small, it means a lot.

Brenda shows Jayne some crochet stitches.

Brenda shows Jayne some crochet stitches.

What are you celebrating this week? Join the Saturday tradition of celebrating even the small moments.

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  Join the Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life Challenge.

Join the Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life Challenge.

A few weeks ago I wrote about making a prayer blanket for a friend whose baby was born prematurely. It was the first prayer blanket I ever made, and frankly, I had high hopes for its prayer power. I wrote a sweet note with the gift thinking that one day finding it tucked into her baby book, the child would read it as an adult.

Enough of my selfish plans. The victory was not mine to decide. I had no part in this.

Vivian died. Her too tiny body fought valiantly for 6 weeks. Two days before her death, I had given her dad my prayer blanket gift. This is not the way it was supposed to go.

I met Vivian today for the first time. She was wrapped tightly in the smallest casket I have ever seen. She looked like a china doll. Her mother hugged me long and hard. She said, “The last time I held her, I wrapped her in the blanket. It’s the only picture I have of me holding her. I didn’t have a chance to post the pictures before…” We hugged and cried some more. And I realized my connection was not just to the baby, my connection was to her mother.

I arrived late at school and Kat met me at the door. She stopped and said, “You are late today.” I responded that I had been by the funeral home. Kat knows loss. She lost her ten year old daughter last year to a battle with a brain tumor. She listened to my selfish lament over the prayer blanket.

“You do not realize how important the material things are. People tell me Kamryn is always with me, and I know this. But I still have to touch.” Kat touched an angel pin on her shoulder and a flower bracelet on her wrist. She explained that my blanket will be that comfort to the mother. We cried together, and I felt blessed. God works mysteriously. Sending Kat in my pathway today led me to a deeper understanding.

I wrote this poem the day after I heard of Vivian’s death. I was still angry, but even then I knew that there was more.

What else can we do
but pray to the moon
high in the morning sky?
I bow my head to her,
cry out
“What were you thinking?”

Bombs went off in Syria.
A bomb exploded.
Vivian’s too tiny body
could not stand the blast.

The variegated pink clouds
float like the blanket
I crocheted, hooking stitch by stitch
repeating her name,
asking for victory.

You forgot to tell me
the victory would be yours.
The morning moon mocks
me with an illusion of a smile.

The sun in the east
continues to rise
always rise,
even though
Vivian’s eyes are closed.
The sun will still rise.
–Margaret Simon

Lucy, the therapy dog, was at the funeral home comforting grievers.

Lucy, the therapy dog, was at the funeral home comforting grievers.

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Discover. Play. Build.

Ruth Ayres invites us the celebrate each week. Click over to her site Discover. Play. Build. to read more celebrations.

In our household, if you make it into our local paper, you are famous. I made it into a local free magazine, Acadiana Lifestyle. The writer Anne Minvielle called me about 6 weeks ago asking me about my hero. She was doing a feature on local heroes’ heroes. I didn’t have to think long. My hero is my mother-in-law, Anne Simon. I’ve written about her a few times on this blog.

When I married at the young age of 21, I moved with my husband to his home town, away from my family in Mississippi. So his parents became very important to me. Following his father’s death (ten years ago on Nov. 14th), his mother Anne and I got closer and closer. We affectionately call her Minga. That’s the grandma name my oldest daughter gave her. It was a baby’s version of grandma. We loved it and kept it. What a coincidence that the greeting in Burma is “Minga La Bal.” Yes, a few years ago, Minga traveled to Burma and came to my classes dressed in traditional Burmese clothes, bowing her head and saying, “Minga La Bal.” I wrote about it here.

Acadiana Lifestyle, November 2014

Acadiana Lifestyle, November 2014

From the article: “Margaret speaks of her mother-in-law as if she were truly a hero. ‘She is like a mother to me, but more than that, she is a best friend, a writing partner, and a confidante. I can talk to her about anything and trust that she will love me no matter what,’ she says. What a blessing!”

While I write this celebration post, my wonderful husband is making a roux for a gumbo. That is the smell of cool weather and of home. However, the scent gets into all your clothes and your pores. We will carry that southern home smell with us all day.

Teaching Authors posted a challenge yesterday on Poetry Friday. Three Weeks of Gratitude. Writing thanksgiving haikus, otherwise known as Thankus. I did this activity with my students a few years ago and here is one from a student. I keep it pinned to the bulletin board in my kitchen.

The seed of a rose
You sprout your knowledge like roots
We share our petals.
by Kylon

Keep your hand moving: Roux in the pot.

Keep your hand moving: Roux in the pot.

Thanku to Roux

Heat tempered with love
Strong scent of flour and oil
Come home for gumbo.
–Margaret Simon

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Click here to read more #spiritualjourney posts.  Thanks Holly for hosting this roundup!

Click here to read more #spiritualjourney posts. Thanks Holly for hosting this roundup!

 

The light is changing, days are shorter, night comes early. I watch as the season changes, trees lose leaves, air cools, satsumas ripen.

Change happens.  God is there.

Through centering prayer, I learned that God is not without.  God’s abiding spirit is within, in my very core, a bright sparkle of light, saying, “You are enough.”

God is as near as breath.

“The LORD is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and I am helped.” (Psalm 28:7)

My heart sings for joy.

My hands are strong that hold God’s love in prayer.

On Facebook, I watch videos of people doing amazing things; a four year old plays master piano, a baby is born, a boy receives a heart.

Even when I do something small and inconsequential, God is there.

God’s strength holds every day, every moment, from hope in a hopeless world to love for a hurting heart.  I can depend on God when the day turns dark, when the leaves fall, when the earth turns.

Photo by John Gibson.  Haiku by Margaret Simon, all rights reserved.

Photo by John Gibson. Haiku by Margaret Simon, all rights reserved.

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Click here to read more #spiritualjourney posts.  Thanks Holly for hosting this roundup!

Click here to read more #spiritualjourney posts. Thanks Holly for hosting this roundup!

One of my close choir friends has been bringing her crochet projects to the loft for a while now. We all love to touch the yarn and watch her quick hands craft beautiful shawls. She decided to begin a prayer shawl ministry at our church. I had not crocheted or knitted in years, but I was interested in the idea, so I joined.

Baby Vivian is one month old and weighs 2 pounds.  Please pray for her.

Baby Vivian is one month old and weighs 2 pounds. Please pray for her.

Before our first meeting, a friend in my Berry Queen community, Holly, had a pre-mature baby. Vivian weighed 1.7 lbs, but she has proven to be a fighter. She is growing and developing. I keep up with her through Facebook. I decided I would make a prayer blanket for the baby. I bought some pink and white thread, a crochet hook, and an instruction book. As I crocheted, I said her name. My mantra became “Vivian Victory.”

Completed baby prayer blanket

Completed baby prayer blanket

We took a field trip last Friday. My student Emily sat next to me on the long bus ride. She watched me work on the prayer blanket. Today, she presented me with a pillow she had sewn for me. She wrote about it for her Slice of Life story on our kidblog. You can read her post here. She wrote, “And, if Mrs. Simon is making a blanket for a premature baby that is only two pounds, she must love it. So, I made this pillow. I made this pillow for someone I love.”

Faith pillow made by Emily.

Faith pillow made by Emily.

Emily’s heart has been broken with her mother’s untimely death six weeks ago. The power of grace from God has placed her heart in my hands. And what a gracious heart it is!

I am truly blessed to be a part of many faithful communities, the concentric circles of love from church, friends, family, students, and this blogging community.

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Click here to read more #spiritualjourney posts.  Thanks Holly for hosting this roundup!

Click here to read more #spiritualjourney posts. Thanks Holly for hosting this roundup!

photo 4

We know from Alexander that some days are terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days, even in Australia. And I’ve had those days. I’ve had the days where nothing seems to go right. The days where the ice cream falls off the ice cream cone, and the plate crashes to the floor, flying out of your hand like someone else is in control. But I have learned that even on those days, there is Grace. Grace comes when we least expect it. The grace in the eyes of the veterinarian who says your dog is fine. The grace in an email from a friend who says you’re a blessing in her life. The grace from the chattering birds on a wire. The grace in the clear sky. The grace in the sunrise over the sugarcane. The grace in the abundant fruit on the tree. The grace in the reflection of the sun on the bayou. God’s grace, God’s loving embrace holds me every day.

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