His name is Grey Wolf Magic Dancer. At least that is the name his mama gave him as she left her teepee shortly after giving birth to him and her eyes landed on a grey wolf and the tribal mountain dancers in the distance. His father, a white man, named him Mark. It’s what his birth certificate reads, but he has resented that name ever since. “Just because you call a watermelon a peach,” he told me, “doesn’t mean it’s a peach.”

My daughter Charis was attempting to fill up her water bottle at the park, only to find that the water fountain was spraying water everywhere, making it near impossible to catch anything but a few drops in the bottle. Enter Grey Wolf, who kindly showed her his tricks and successfully filled the bottle. We thanked him and I marveled at how the conversation somehow transitioned naturally into a talk about cougar hunting.

I think you tend to take in the most details of a person when it is your first encounter with them. You notice things like interesting mustaches, crooked teeth, and a wheelchair full of simple belongings. You also walk a fine line of “Can I trust you?” and “Can I get to know you?” We were testing each other out, dancing that awkward first dance of a first meeting. But as I looked into his eyes, I could have sworn I had met him before. He reminded me of other people I have met along the way. People who are night and day different to me, who are watermelons while I am a peach. And yet who, just like me, simply long for the chance to be heard, the chance to talk, the chance to tell their story.

So we listened. We listened, my kids and me, as he taught us about shrieking cicadas and grey wolves and how to grow corn in sand. We listened as he taught us about reflecting light and homeless people and the Apache temper. We listened as he opened up doors to a world we have never been a part of, but one in which he was so graciously inviting us into. I thought in the back of my head, “This is homeschooling at its finest. This is what I love about being outside, about going on walks, about having no agenda but just heading out to explore.”

At some point I realized my kids had all wandered off to play, and I thanked Grey Wolf for his time. He asked if I wanted to hear a sermon. “I’m a preacher too,” he told me. Intrigued by this preacher who was lighting a cigarette and who told me he wanted to start a street ministry, I asked for his 1-minute sermon.

“If I had one minute, I would give you my testimony. I would tell you about how I found Jesus in jail, and how my life has been forever changed. I would tell you about how I got myself a good family, good friends, a good church, and how I’ve been lining up some honest jobs I could do, even if I haven’t decided to do any of them yet. I would tell you how it’s possible to live just as richly as all these people who drive around in these nice, expensive cars, and to even be more content then most of them, all because of how Jesus changed me.” He took a long drag on his cigarette and gave a crooked smile, nodding his head in satisfaction.

I’m not sure what it is about moments like these that leave me feeling hopeful inside, but as I walked away, I had this sense of connecting with humanity on a deeper level. Of seeing God, somehow, in the squinty eyes and the sun tanned face of Mr. Grey Wolf, and of liking what I saw.

He was awake. I had heard him talking on and off behind his closed door, but the babbling started to intrigue me when it became interspersed with squeals of laughter and gasps of awe. “What is he doing?” I wondered.

I assumed his brother must be playing with him, since they shared a room, but why didn’t I hear his brother’s voice?

Another squeal of joy. My curiosity took rise, and I followed it up to the bedroom door, where I quietly turned the knob and prayed I could catch him in the midst of play.

The first thing I noticed was his older brother, asleep in his own bed. “So he’s playing by himself,” I reasoned, intrigued all the more.

He was standing in his crib, looking down at his body, touching his arm that was dotted in little specks of light that were peeking through the blinds. The light was casting dancing sparkles on the edge of his crib and onto the wall as well. He looked up at the wall and slapped at it, and then let go with another squeal of delight.

“He’s playing with the light,” I thought, taken by the moment. His fist reached out with a quick grab at the illuminated wall, and I could see the mystery was baffling his little mind. “He’s trying to catch the light,” I whispered to myself.

“Your eyes are windows into your body. If you open your eyes wide in wonder and belief, your body fills up with light.” – Matthew 6:22

Now it was my turn to take my own gasp of awe. How simple a delight. Sunshine pouring in at just the right time, in just the right way, to create a magical mobile for my baby, far greater than anything I could have ever purchased in a store. Discovery, exploration, education, right in his own bedroom. I imagined how surprised he must have been when he first opened his eyes and beheld the magical light show. It was, I must admit, quite breathtaking, but I’m pretty sure I would have completely missed it, if it wasn’t for his CHILDLIKE fascination. My children wake me up to simple magic all around me. They awaken me to wonder and I am filled with light.

In early spring Nehemiah, our 4-year-old, decided to use his birthday money to buy some gardening tools and flower seeds. He was adamant that his birthday money be used to create his own flower garden. So Tony took him shopping and they carved out a little section of our backyard and filled it with rich dirt where the seeds were then planted.

I didn’t expect to be taken in by the process, but I have been. We all have been.

In the beginning Tony would protect the little sprouts from downpours and wind by covering them with our recycling bin.

Nehemiah would ask, “Are my flowers okay?”

“Yes, I kept them safe,” Tony would reply.

From the very first green to the very first bloom, it felt as though we were holding our breath, anticipating a miracle. And watching the growth process, seeing tiny sprouts turn into 2 inch thick stems of sunflowers, watching morning glories vine their way around the sunflower stems so they could climb to the sun, and seeing the first colors of bright red zinnias bloom into life, has been nothing short of a miracle. Despite thick heat and flood waters, flowers are blooming, things are springing to life, and we get to watch it all unfold in our very own backyard.

If I had forgotten for a moment that there is great wonder in this world, I am now reminded. Thanks to the wishes of a 4-year-old, CHILDLIKE wonder has returned to me.

When Tony and I started seriously thinking about homeschooling our children, I did a lot of research. I read book after book after book. I emailed all of my friends that homeschool their children. I journaled out my thoughts and fears and prayers about it. Tony and I discussed a lot. It was no easy decision.

Now, looking back on it, I’m kind of exhausted by all the energy I put into it. I’m glad it didn’t feel exhausting at the time.

I’m still in the baby stages of figuring out what it looks like to homeschool. I feel blessed to live in a state that makes it very easy to homeschool your children. And I feel blessed to be surrounded by all sorts of homeschool families whom I love and connect with. Even so, it feels weird to be on the receiving end now for those inquiring how and why to homeschool. In the last few months I’ve talked, over email mainly, with a few close friends who are testing out the waters and asking a lot of good questions. The same questions I was asking only a couple years ago.

I thought if a few of my friends were asking questions, maybe others were curious about homeschooling too, so I decided to combine the common questions into a Q&A. I added in with it some helpful links to books and resources, some quotes and a blog post on what I’m learning it means to be a teacher. I hope you’ll find it helpful. Please feel free to pass it on to anyone else you think would benefit from reading it. You can get to the page by clicking on The Art of Teaching Tab on the top of my blog.

As artists we daily create what our life is going to look like. We have a lot of creative control over the life we’re living. Don’t we?

I’m not sure we always live like we believe that.

Personally I’m trying to be more and more intentional about the life we create, allowing lots of opportunities and time to explore and imagine.  I’m trying to change my mindset from life happens TO me to life happens BECAUSE of me. I’ve been guilty of feeling I am just a victim of my life’s circumstances, as I sit, passively stuck waiting for the life I dream of to fall out of the sky. Now I’m trying to awaken to the reality that life is what I make it. If I want a CHILDLIKE home that feels magical and exciting, then I’m going to do my creative best to make that come about.

I’m still putting pen to paper on this train of thought, trying to hash out all of the implications that come with knowing and creating the life I long for. These realizations are so exciting to me.

I have to tell you, it’s been neat to see the trail God has me on. As I look back over the past year of my life, there has been a lot of big change occurring. It was just last July that I stopped reading the Bible. I needed a break. I wasn’t finding God there, as crazy as that sounds.

Then in November I started reading Galatians, and I haven’t stopped since. I’ve been on a journey of establishing my own relationship with God, apart from what I’ve been told that needs to look like. That romance with Him, and I call it that because He has stirred my heart greatly as an artist, has led into all sorts of growth that I had been trying to force for years.

The people pleasing I was fighting so viciously with last Spring is beginning to drift away. The more I pursue God naturally, in my own way, the more He reveals Himself to me. My CHILDLIKE awe of Him has returned. He is so much more than attending a church, paying a tithe, taking communion, not sinning and reading my Bible.

He is an Artist! He is in the business of stirring hearts, of breathing life into dead lungs, of taking the mundane day-to-day family life and making it enjoyable.

We long for it to be true. I know I did, last July, when I could see God more in the sentences of Frankenstein then I could in the HOLY BIBLE. But I felt like I wasn’t seeing God in the RIGHT places. I felt like I didn’t have the rules of religion down and that without those rules, He wouldn’t care much to hear from me. Life had become a rut, and even though I wanted out of it, I was scared to move.

Galatians has taught me about my value. It has taught me I am loved not because of what I do, but because God is love and He has sacrificed greatly to love me. God’s love for me is not based on my Bible reading or my life of service or all the rules that I obey.

Artists try and point us to the free life. It pours out of art. Think about the freeing movement of dancing or free-flowing paint strokes or music that makes your heart come alive. We crave freedom, a heart that is joyful. I thought I could get that through religion. I mean there are rules that should govern our faith, right? But the rules make me cold and stiff. The rules make me mad at my husband or kids when they don’t live up to the standards. The rules make my home a war-zone, where we’re fighting with each other instead of for each other. The rules turn friends into enemies. The rules make me tired. The rules tell me I’m stuck. The rules tell me I’m a victim of a broken life I can never repair. There is no freedom to create the life we long for when all we can think about is ourselves and how miserably stuck we are.

I am finding great joy in the freedom that God, the Artist, offers. He invites me to live out a life where grace covers everything. Grace covers my mistakes and grace covers the mistakes of those around me. Grace allows me to move freely, even in my imperfection. (An artist needs to know that!) The grace-filled life invites, the rule-filled life condemns.

So you want your life to look a certain way? You want to be smiling a lot, whistling while you work, waking up excited to step into what is waiting for you? You want to be an artist that is creating out of overflow rather than scraping the bottom of the barrel for security?

I suggest you stop trying to follow the rules. Stop trying to protect your world. Stop trying to hunker down in your trench until the war ends and you’re no longer a victim. I suggest you become CHILDLIKE and get to know the Master Artist. Perhaps you get to know Him like you used to know Him as a child, or perhaps you get to know Him for the first time. Whatever the case may be, pursue Him wherever you hear His voice. Chase Him.

I don’t quite understand it all yet. I don’t have it all figured out. But what I do know is that I have never felt more alive because I suddenly have the freedom to create the life I’ve always wanted, and it’s all because of Him.

Recently our five-year-old neighbor-girl asked me why my kids don’t go to school. I explained to her that they were homeschooled. She asked, “So you’re their teacher?” “Yes,” I replied, somewhat hesitantly. “That’s just weird,” she shot back, shaking her head in disbelief.

As I thought about it more, I realized why I was hesitant in my reply. It wasn’t for fear of her reaction, it was more because I don’t really feel like their teacher. Really, I feel like they teach themselves, and Tony and I are just there to sort of help them along as they have questions. But that answer seemed, so…well…weird. According to the standards that I know of a teacher, I don’t match up. I don’t do things by the book. I don’t have set standards or curriculum. My methods are ever-shifting and ever-broadening, and I look so little like what I’ve always thought a teacher should look like.

I read a book recently called Walking On Water that made me feel normal. It put words to the feelings I have for how I want to educate my children. It made me excited to see clearly defined the teacher I dream of being.

Let me just say, I never dreamed that I would be a teacher. Even though my family history is dotted with all sorts of amazing professional educators, I never saw myself following in those footsteps. I didn’t choose a degree in education, and the thought of standing in front of a classroom makes me weak in the knees. However, life has given me several opportunities to teach, and I would argue, that all of us are teachers in some capacity or another. We teach our children. We teach our peers. We teach our c0-workers. We teach by mentoring those a bit younger than us. We all teach. Some of us are just better at teaching than others. And this book really inspired me to want to be a good teacher.

Let me share some quotes which come from Walking on Water, unless otherwise noted:

The only real job of any teacher, especially a writing teacher, is to help students find themselves.

The only real learning is self-discovered, self-appropriated learning, I won’t try to teach you anything. It’s my job to create an atmosphere where you can teach yourself.

A mother is not a person to lean on, but a person to make leaning unnecessary. ―Dorothy Canfield Fisher

I long to do this for my own children. To be the kind of teacher who does not give answers, but who instead asks the right questions. I long to give them space to teach themselves, to wrestle with themselves, with other humans and with God. To say to them as Jensen said in his book:

It will be very hard. You’ll make a million mistakes and you’ll pay for them…But the hard parts will be your hard parts, they won’t be hard parts other people have imposed on you for their reasons. And your ownership of them…makes all the difference in the world.

I also long to give them plenty of time to chase down their passions. Sometimes in English in high school I would have loved to spend another hour discussing The Count of Monte Cristo, but the bell would ring, and I would have to move onto Math Class or World History or Gym. This is a great quote about the luxury of time:

We need to not be governed by external schedules…not told what and when we need to learn, nor what we need to express, but instead we need to be given time, not as a constraint, but as a gift in a supportive place where we can explore what we want and who we are, with the assistance of others who care about us also.

I also believe that teaching is made easier when our hearts and minds are trained to tune into the voice of God, to accept the help of His Spirit. I think there is a spiritual directing that can take place in our lives, and when we learn to trust God and let go of the fear of doing things the way everyone else is doing them, a whole world of possibilities is open to us.

Unquestioned assumptions frame our choices. If we wish to make different choices we must smash the frames that constrain us.

…Mindlessly responding to what everyone else calls necessities is killed off for good. - Galatians 5:24

I’m learning to think of teaching in a new light, in the light of what I feel God calling me towards, directly relating to the responsibility I have of raising Zoe, Charis, Nehemiah and Luther Steward. That’s a unique calling and opportunity for only me (and Tony) and I long to teach them to the best of my ability.

On a sunny, warm afternoon, my kids begged me for the chance to play outside. Luther was napping, and I was feeling the pull on my eyelids and thinking the couch was looking more and more comfortable. I decided I would compromise. They could play outside, as long as the door was cracked and I could hear them from my horizontal position on the couch. They promised to take care of each other. Thankfully we live at the end of a dead-end street, so playing outside is pretty safe.

In no time at all the laughter and screams from my kids outside faded as I melted into the couch for my typical 15 minute afternoon catnap. Little did I know that they were unrolling a whole entrepreneurial plan while I was sleeping. I awoke to hearing an unfamiliar boy’s voice just outside our garage. I quietly eased open the cracked door, so I could spy. I saw a  junior-high age neighbor boy from across the street. He was talking to my kids who were in a horizontal line and each holding signs. I heard him say, “Well, I don’t have any money on me right now, but maybe I’ll come back over in a little bit when I take the dog out.”

Turns out my kids were throwing a “Water Fiesta.” Charis can’t pronounce her “r’s” very well, and so she is greatly embarassed by saying the wordy “party” because it comes out “potty.” She appreciates when we replace the word “party” with “fiesta.”

What my kids were calling a “Water Fiesta” was actually an Art Sale, with free water as the bonus gift accompanying every purchase. The water was displayed neatly in three water bottles lined up on a kid-sized card table. Naturally the idea was for you to just take a swig after you purchased your artwork. We are all family here.

The larger, $4 artwork was in a wagon. The smaller, $6 artwork was in a upside down bicycle helmet.

It’s hard work running a “Water Fiesta” on a dead-end street in the hot sun. Customers were few, and I found out later from my neighbors that my kids went door-to-door soliciting business. Zoe reported to me, “Don’t worry Mommy, we only went to the houses of the people we know.” The neighbor-boy had been persuaded to come over and check out the wares on his walk home from school.

Poor things, they didn’t sell a thing, but they didn’t seem too bothered by it. They were just thrilled they had done something totally on their own, and I was thrilled with my uninterrupted nap. I also was taken by the realization that my babies are growing up, so much so that they can, solely on their own, host Water Fiestas stocked with attractive signage, comfortable chairs, beautiful artwork and ice-cold water.  Who would have thought?

My friend Deleise gave us this great idea for a Spring Nature Walk.

My kids amazed me. They noticed so many details and were so curious and engaged. We collected rocks and pine cones and acorns and flowers and rolly polly bugs. We touched petals and clovers with dew. We watched birds fly and squirrels scamper. We listened to the birds singing and the wind blowing the leaves and an old rusty chain clanging against a flagpole. And when we got home we played with and documented our discoveries.

While watching my kids explore with CHILDLIKE abandon, I realized two things that apply to creating. First off, I am pretty poor in slowing down enough to be able to pay attention to details. One of the things the novel I am working on is dreadfully lacking is details. I don’t give time to lay out for my readers what my characters looks like, what their quirks are, what colors inhabit their world, what smells, sounds, tastes, sights and touches they are rubbing up against. To notice details = to be all there. To notice details = to be fully engaged in a moment (or in a story.) And if I’m too busy to notice details in my own life, I’ll never learn the necessary and valuable practice of incorporating them into my art. If we, as humans, fail to connect with details, we miss out on a rich, meaningful, and fulfilling connection to our story.

Secondly, we cannot, as artists, constantly be creating. There is this ebb and flow that is necessary to our art. As I was walking with my kids, I realized how much I was enjoying myself. I wasn’t on a time agenda. I wasn’t in a rush to get back home and do something purposeful. I was enjoying a break from creating. I was enjoying living.

As artists we have to live too. We can’t always be stuck in our craft or we risk losing our source of inspiration. The living is where the inspiration comes from. On that walk I felt myself coming alive. I was engaged as I watched my kids engaging. They drew me into a story bigger than myself. As I turned off my productive, busy side of my brain, I was able to relax into soaking-it-all-in mode. Inside I could feel this deep sigh of relief, as my creative wells began to fill back up. The world around me became alive with possibility. Spring colors captured my breath, excited squeals from my kids awakened my heart. These are the things that give me material for my art.

It is through our living CHILDLIKE – living richly and deeply and curiously, and freely and even simply – that we can then have something to feed into our creations. We don’t need some big magical event to occur to inspire us, we just need to be present in our everyday, ordinary life. Then, and only then, do we have something worth sharing.

What are the details of your everyday life? Your details will be unique to your life, unique to your story. Only you can explore them, collect them, know them, describe them, share them.

We have set up an email account for our kids. We did it so they could communicate with close family. At first this meant lots of me helping my kids write messages to their grandparents and aunts and uncles.

But it has become so much more than that.

We have an old iPhone that we don’t use. It was the first one Tony bought. The screen is cracked and so we’ve never tried to sell it, but it is still usable. Tony recently pulled it out and dubbed it the “Kiddio Phone.” What this means is that they have full access to use it. It’s not on a phone plan, but they can still play games, record their voice, “read” books, type memos, take photos, check email and reply with emails.

They started getting adventurous with the phone. I wasn’t needed anymore. They would secretly send out their own emails, sounding out the words and writing them their own special way. They have increased in their desire to read, trying their hardest to sound out and decode emails sent back from family. They send pictures and voice memos as well. There is nothing like hands-on learning.

Not only has it become a reading/writing tool, it has also become a way for them to communicate love and affection to family.

I can’t tell you how much joy it brings me when a random email shows up in my inbox and it’s from one of my kids telling me they love me. It’s the best.

These weaving looms were a Christmas gift from my mom. She also followed up with some additional weaving supplies on Valentine’s Day. She must REALLY want some potholders. But seriously, my kids really got into it. For two days straight they were weaving fools. It brought back memories of making these when I was a kid.

Zoe is weaving in soccer gear. I bet you never knew weaving was a contact sport. It can get really physical, especially right around the shin region. I’m actually very impressed that Zoe stuck with this. She’s not one to like to focus on anything for a long time, but she did great with this project.

I always love it when math sneaks its way into our daily routine. It’s a hard thing for me to want to teach math on purpose, so it’s always a welcome surprise when math shows up uninvited. Well, kind of a welcome surprise, as long as it’s elementary math that I can figure out. While weaving we talked a lot about patterns.

We talked about shapes too. This was how Nehemiah was using his weaving loom.

He used his like this too. Took him about 3 minutes to figure out how to make it into a weapon.

He also used the finished potholders to transport cars. Very resourceful.

That’s Luther’s little hand trying to grab the potholders. He loved the texture. The girls didn’t want him touching them after they worked so hard on them.

Tony told the kids he wanted to take the potholders to work to use as a coaster for his coffee mug. The girls were then inspired to make 13 to take to all of his co-workers. I love their hearts for giving, but that goal hasn’t quite panned out yet. I’m very impressed with the four they did complete. And now, we’re on a weaving hiatus.

In typical Steward-homeschool fashion, my kids came up with something great. Why is it that I stress over whether or not we’re doing school “right.” The days where I am chill and go with their flow are some of the best days we experience. This was no exception.

It started when Nehemiah wanted to play a “pick out all the sharpies in the marker basket and lay them in a row” type game. Then it became a “please can we draw on the biggest paper we have?” activity. Then out of the blue he asks me, how do you spell “Hulia.”

“Spell what, Nehemiah?”

“Hulia.” He repeats again, with added fervor.

“Ummm, I don’t know that word.”

“Just write it,” he says, “right here next to this guy.”

So I do as I’m told.

“What is a Hulia, buddy?” I ask him.

“He lives in the ocean. He eats seashells. And he eats girls’ earrings.” He tells me.

I tell him I better write that down so I won’t forget. I’m pretty impressed with his creativity.

He draws a red oval shape and takes his time coloring it completely in. He asks me to write the name “Fireball” beside it.

Zoe and Charis pick up on the “game” of Nehemiah’s, and they start drawing their own characters.

They fill entire poster-size pages with them. And then they ask me to write out the information as they dictate. It gets really fun and really imaginative.

Then, very last, Zoe names the “game.”

“Mommy? Can you write HISTORIES at the top of my paper?”

“Why am I writing HISTORIES?”

“Because these are all people that lived a long time ago and these are all their stories.”

“Ah, of course.” Brilliant.

A new creative game is born, and my homeschool panic-attack is put off for yet another day.

In California cardboard trash could be recycled curbside. In Oklahoma however, we have to drive our cardboard somewhere to have it recycled. It’s just not going to happen. So I was trying to think of something we could do with all the cardboard that we accumulate. I started to collect it in our art closet, throwing all the smaller boxes and toilet paper tubes into a bigger cheerios box. At the end of 2 weeks we had quite a little stash, and so we pulled it out along with markers and tape and anything else my kids could find. It was fun to see what they combined.

Charis made a ship that she used for her little people and animals.

Zoe made a robot mask.

Nehemiah taped a box shut and Luther walked around in the middle of it all and hit his siblings with cardboard. A good time was had by all.

When they get done playing with what they made, we’ll throw them away and pull out the new stash I’m currently collecting. I think it’s fun for them to have some bigger materials on hand with which to build and invent.

When I first moved to Oklahoma and mentioned to some friends that I was interested in homeschooling, the name Cheryl Lange came up repeatedly. I hadn’t been here a month before I got to meet her. She was every bit as wonderful as was promised. A woman full of wisdom and knowledge and I soon became a fan. It’s nice to rub shoulders with people who can provide some direction, answer some tough questions and give me new things to consider and to challenge my thinking.

Cheryl has a ministry called Lodestar. I’ve been fortunate to attend a few of her workshops (I actually get to go to one this coming weekend!), and I always leave feeling refreshed and rejuvenated to dive back into my version of homeschooling. My version being the one that uniquely fits our family. I don’t think homeschooling is for everyone, and I certainly don’t think there is one way to do it, but I do like to feel empowered and freed up to do the version of homeschooling I see in my head. A very laid-back, organic, curiosity driven, and creative environment. Cheryl makes me feel empowered. You gotta love people like that.

So anyway, Cheryl has a handful of books she always mentions. I think I’ve read nearly every one, especially early on when we were still trying to make our education decision. And finally with some Christmas money, at the beginning of this year I was able to purchase a few of the “activity books” that she always talks about. One of those is called Workjobs.

This past weekend we pulled this book out and I picked a few of the workjobs for us to make. They are basically teaching materials that once created can be used time and time again and my kids can do them with little to no help. We have started a workjobs box. I can imagine how fun it will be once we get a lot of these created. Like many of our homeschool ventures, we might do this for awhile and then tire of it, but for now, I hope we can make a couple of these workjob tools a week. And truthfully the book is stretching me creatively, making me think outside of the box of learning. I love that.

One of my absolute favorite artists right now is Keri Smith. I have, quite accidentally, started my own Keri Smith library. I picked up this first book while we were still living in California. It’s called Living Out Loud. Since getting this book, I’ve picked up a few others of hers along the way, including this book that I got for Zoe for Christmas. We’ve been doing some of the activities in Zoe’s book and it’s re-sparked my interest in Keri Smith and her books.

Here’s why I love her. SHE MAKES ME THINK OUTSIDE OF MY BOX! She makes me want to read books about things I know nothing about. She makes me want to play. She makes me want to explore. She helps make me embrace my word for this year – CHILDLIKE.

So we are going through the Living Out Loud book as part of our homeschooling. And when we finish that one, I have at least 3, other books of Keri’s that will be equally as wonderful. The Living Out Loud book is more artistic in nature, but some of the others are just plain creative thinking. Exercises to make us think outside of our box. Good stuff!

Last week we made these finders out of cardboard. They allow you to see life in a different way. Looking through our finders we saw things we would have never seen otherwise. Colors, textures, details. Why, I even discovered islands! I was looking with my finder on a globe and I discovered islands way out in the middle of the ocean that I didn’t even know existed!

(*note – I’ve found the finder can also be used when you are in an overwhelming situation, such as if your house is completely cluttered in toys and kid clothes and food crumbs and the like. you can look through the finder to focus in on one little bit of life, and blur out the chaos all around you as you think, “ah, what a nice mix of colors those legos make, strewn so artistically across the floor.”)

I used the finder with my 3 oldest kids. We each picked an object, so 4 in total. We would use our finder to discover something on the object and then we would draw it in our journal. When we were done “finding” and documenting all 4 things we compared drawings. It was so cool to see the different ways our eyes looked at things.

I wanted to add that I used to just flip through Keri Smith’s books. “What nice ideas,” I would think. They are nice coffee table material. But when you really engage and interact with them, which is of course what she intended, something magical happens. She makes you play. The adult in me seldom wants to play.

Our friend Cynthia Ware sent us some of their family’s kid books that they don’t use anymore. This science experiment book was one of them. Being that I am more of the artsy type and not so much the science/math type, I’ve decided to incorporate this book into our homeschooling. I need the help.

My friend Abbi has been working through a cupcake recipe book, and she has inspired me to do the same with some of the books we have sitting on our shelves. (We’re doing this with art some too. I’ll have to share about that in another post.)

Right now we’re doing Science on Wednesday. Last Wednesday we did two experiments. One of them was with oil and water.

Love it that I actually managed to catch their surprised expressions. I must admit here, I was thinking science was pretty dang cool too.

And pretty! Who knew?

This was the second experiment. First we put a ball of clay in the water and it sank, just like the marbles did. Then we had to make the clay into a boat, so that not only would it not sink, it would also hold the marbles. I COULDN’T GET IT TO WORK! Every time I tried to put my clay boat in the water it would sink. Those horrible high school feelings came rushing over me. I instantly remembered when I failed my egg-drop physics assignment. I started hearing in my head, “See? You aren’t any good at science. What made you think you could teach your kids science?”

But I don’t give up easily, and my kids were cheering me on. So we finally figured it out. And can I tell you how excited we all were? It just takes some trial and error (much like art) and some creative thinking (totally like art.) I think I like this science stuff.

Luther was watching too. He’ll use anything as an excuse to stand on a chair. Eventually our boat filled with water and it sank. Then the kids all worked with the clay to try and fashion their own floating boat.

Tomorrow is another Wednesday. Another science experiment. Another challenge, no doubt, for me. But, I actually think it’s helping me as an artist to make my brain think in creative ways it usually doesn’t. I’m telling myself this anyway.

I took a big step recently in my life. I agreed to teach some art classes for our homeschool co-op. This meant I would be teaching three different classes once a week to kids age Pre-K – 5th Grade for the entire school year.

This decision was not made lightly. Afterall, who am I to be teaching art? Right? I have no formal training in teaching or in art. I’m not much for standing up and talking in front of others. I hate long-term commitment to much of anything because I don’t like to be tied down. And quite frankly, the organization, prep and planning needed in teaching kind of freaks this perfectionist out.

I was voicing all of this on the phone to a friend. After I got done venting, she said, “So basically, you’re going to do it, you just haven’t gotten up the courage to say yes yet.”

It was so evident to her, that despite my anxiousness, I had a deeper, passionate desire to teach art and that I believed it to be something God had prepared me for, in my own unique way. Down deep I wanted to believe I had what it took to pull something like this off.

“Yes, I guess you’re right. I’m going to say yes.”

Isn’t it funny how our heart and soul can long for something and yet our mind can convince us it’s just not possible or not worth the risk or it certainly isn’t us?

The night before classes were to begin I could not sleep. I tossed and turned. I played over in my mind how the classes would play out, walking through each detail, checking off each to-do on my mental list. I worried about my inadequacies, my plans, my likability. Finally, at about 2 am I had enough. I got up and wrote these words in my journal:

Tomorrow begins a new day in my life as an artist. Tomorrow I walk boldly into a dream, knowing it is by God alone that I arrive there. I am equipped. I am called into it. I am prepared. I am enough. I don’t have to be perfect, nor do the kids. I am excited, inspired, blessed, and able-bodied. I have a heart full of passion to share, to bestow, to pass on. I am stewarding a mystery to the hearts of tiny soul-filled young ones. I have a whole past that stands in line behind me, preparing me to be the perfect person for such a time as this. Christ in me, Holy Spirit led, in the image of an all creative God. I have nothing they can’t have. I am a teacher but to inspire them, awaken them. I’ve longed for this. I will step into it.

When I woke the next morning to face my challenge, I was met with a neat surprise. An artist who has taught me so much, Sabrina Ward Harrison, had left an encouraging note on my Facebook page about me teaching art. To me, it was all the confirmation I needed. I had boldly decided to trust God and find my worth and confidence in Him as an art teacher and in so doing, I was met with a huge affirmation by a brilliant artist, that yes I did have what it takes. Even I.

A couple weeks ago I stumbled upon a “Dreams List” I had made at the beginning of summer. One of the things on the list was teach art classes. I don’t even remember writing it. But my heart felt so light knowing that at one time, I wrote it down on a list of big huge things that were but distant glimmers of hope and today I can mark it off as a risk I was finally willing to take.

It started with a library trip and Nehemiah picking out a book that I insisted on him putting back. It was a book on botany and the photography was straight out of the 80’s…early 90’s at best. It looked boring, even to me, the parent. “Buddy, I don’t think you’ll like it. Can you pick something over here in the fiction section?”

We left the library with the botany book that day. I’m sure you’re not surprised. Kids are persistent, and we choose our battles as parents.

Botany is the study of plants. And did we ever study them.

Really, the book was boring for them. I had to read it in an interactive way to keep their attention. But at the end of the book there was this suggestion about how you could be a botanist. Get a bag, a notebook, a pen, some tape, and a magnifying glass and start exploring.

Charis was intrigued by this. She pleaded until she was holding all things botany in her excited clutches. Then we went outside. Zoe and Nehemiah started on scooters, but it wasn’t long before Charis had them all sucked into the exploration. Then we needed MORE notebooks and pens and magnifying glasses.

Luther was right in the middle of it all. Sucking on magnifying glasses and grabbing pens and soaking up the crisp Autumn air.

They drew pictures of the leaves and then wrote their notes about what they discovered. The next day we tried to identify the trees by the leaves. We learned about the parts of the leaf and labeled them.

Another day we learned about photosynthesis and how and why leaves change colors. So cool. Of course we talked about how creative God was to make brilliant oranges, yellows and reds appear in the Fall. They drew diagrams of the process to help them explain the process to Tony.

Another day Charis was asking me what was inside the acorns that they had collected on day one of botany. I told her I knew how we could find out. Cue hammer.

Once the nut was removed it was decided we needed to share it with the squirrel they had seen visiting on their roof outside their bedroom window. So we opened the window and placed the nuts on the roof. For days they would run up to see if the squirrel took the nuts. Eventually they did disappear, and that discovery was met with shrieks of joy.

I didn’t know when walking into the library that day that a weeks worth of homeschooling was about to take place through one very inconspicuous book. I didn’t know how passionately they would latch on to the idea of being botanists. I didn’t know that we would find acorns. I didn’t even think to smash them until Charis asked the question, “What’s inside?”And two minutes later we were literally finding out.

No matter the plans I make in our homeschool journey, by far the best stuff comes out of the natural flow. The willingness to go with the energy, the passion, the questions, the excitement of my kids. Magical moments come disguised in 8o’s books about botany, and i’m learning to just go with it.

Part of school lately has included cooking. Reading a recipe, measuring, turning the oven to the right temperature…all good stuff. (We haven’t really quit learning during the summer. It never even really dawned on me to do that. Hmmm.)

Trying something different – fresh apricots. I don’t think I’ve ever had one. We all liked them. Even Charis, who insisted she wouldn’t because they were furry. Oh, and the little dude is cutting his first tooth. Right on time. All of our kids have done that right around 9 months.

Practicing writing the alphabet with sidewalk chalk. Nearly perfect.

Zoe drew her own Fairy Birthday invites. We’re sending them out this week. Excited for her birthday party in a couple weeks!

It’s been interesting taking an official break from reading the Bible. (Thanks to all of you who have encouraged me or challenged me on the matter. I plan on writing a follow up post at some point.) I’ve seen God in so much of the details of life lately. Take homemade guacamole. I’m telling you, one bite the other day and I new that a creative God loves me. What colors and flavors!

I wrote Tony a love letter. I had a couple people give me a letter lately, and it just seemed so special. I want to write more letters. I’m totally inspired by this book.

Also I’m reading this by Sabrina Ward Harrison and working through this class by Rachel Denbow. Both are inspiring me to start art journaling again. Nothing quite like it.

Oh, and I’m sore because of this. Jillian’s killing me.

If you haven’t checked out the Messy Canvas Etsy store yet, why don’t you wander by? We have some cute birdy brooches for sale now.

I wanted to make something similar to the social media pins, but minus the logos like Facebook and Twitter that had the potential to get me in trouble.

For some inspiration, I gave my kids a 2.25″ x 2.25″ piece of paper with rounded corners. They used this as a pattern and drew rounded squares on a piece of paper. Then I asked them to to draw something in the squares. A whole bunch of super cute drawings came from this. I can only hope, with time, there will be more transformed into pins. Besides the bird, I think my favorite was a pirate.

I love being inspired by my kids.

Tony took a grilling class recently (Thanks Arly!) and we’ve enjoyed having people over for supper to share what he’s learned. I love his willingness to try new things. This = me falling more in love.

One of our friends that came over for dinner fed Luther so I could eat my meal and he ended up with as much applesauce on him as on the baby. Awesome.

We spotted a rare bird in our yard, sitting on his nest. We tried not to disturb him in his natural habitat.

Nehemiah did this to his shirt with red foam stickers. I thought it was pretty clever.

The girls experimented with flying magic carpets and the ceiling fan, but were disappointed that stuffed animals couldn’t sit on them while in the air. Is this considered physics class or something?

I’m not sure an explanation in words would do this picture justice.

I made new robot paintings for our bathroom. They are in love…a lot like Tony and me. *sigh*

Sorry, today I end this blog post in pure mush.

A Tablecloth (which was used for Tony’s birthday party.)

Kites!

A Magical Art Exhibit (The girls did this during rest one day.)

iPhones.

And headbands!

And oh yeah, chasing this guy around everywhere. He’s moving now – full army crawl.

Zoe teaches how to draw a girl and boy fairy and how to color them in. She also teaches on IMPERFECTION (in the 4th video). Love it.

Drawing Fairies from Mandy Steward on Vimeo.

Drawing Fairies (2) from Mandy Steward on Vimeo.

Drawing Fairies (3) from Mandy Steward on Vimeo.

Drawing Fairies (4) from Mandy Steward on Vimeo.

Drawing Fairies (5) from Mandy Steward on Vimeo.

We were inspired to make our own drawing videos. In these three videos Charis teaches how to draw and color a big rabbit.

Drawing a Bunny from Mandy Steward on Vimeo.

Drawing a Bunny (2) from Mandy Steward on Vimeo.

Drawing a Bunny (3) from Mandy Steward on Vimeo.

This is how I imagine homeschooling should go. How I envision it. It is moments like these that revive my passion for this sort of learning all the more.

We read this book, City Hawk. Besides enjoying the great story about New York and its hawks, we were all taken by the cool paintings. Meghan’s illustrations are really fun.

After we finished the book, I noticed that her website was printed on the flap. My kids were totally into checking it out, and she didn’t disappoint. The website has all sorts of little things to explore.

My kids’ favorite by far was the videos of Meghan drawing and painting an astronaut. You can find them on this page.

Of course then we had to draw our own astronauts.

And then, we had to try our hand at painting. I’ve been a bit intimidated by acrylic paints and use them sparingly. But this time we jumped and didn’t look back. (Thanks Meghan for giving us permission to do so.) I drew a few little characters for us to paint.

I poured out a little plate of paint for each of us, and we learned how to mix our own colors. So that this soon became…

This.

I can’t tell you how much this overjoys me. I thought you might need a degree in art from some prestigious school to mix colors such as these. Turns out you just need the guts to get your hands and paint brushes and a plate dirty. The guts to not be afraid to fail. I told my kids about primary colors and secondary colors and then they went full speed ahead. Making colors I hadn’t even fathomed yet. Kids have guts. Don’t believe me? Paint with a kid. You’ll see.

The last rabbit trail we went down was making our own drawing videos. My kids thought it would be cool to have movies of them teaching other kids how to draw some of their own creations. So we did it. I’ll show you soon in another post.

I wish everyday of homeschooling was this glorious. I’m also thinking about buying a bunch of canvases (somethinge else I don’t have the guts to do) so we can all paint on them together. Hmmmm.

What do you not have the guts to do? Can you change that?