Go Far

Today I am grateful for my daughter, my oldest child.  From the time she could talk, she loved to sing.  She learned songs quickly and always sang on pitch.  At night when we put her to bed she would sing herself to sleep - sweet little toddler songs with made up words or no words at all, just singing.  When she was quiet we knew she was asleep.  She went on to major in Music Education and teach singing to elementary school children.  Now she has children of her own.  One evening when I was staying with her family, I listened in the hallway as she put her two little girls to bed.  Tears came to my eyes as she sang them to sleep with a beautiful soft lullaby.

Last month I was able to again visit my daughter and her family, this time to watch her and her two oldest children run in the Go Far 5K.  Go Far is a running program in the elementary schools in their area.  Each school has a running club that meets after school in the spring for half an hour.  They teach the children how to train for the race.  They start out running 3 minutes and walking 1 minute, repeating the pattern for the whole time.  They gradually increase the time spent running until they are running 14 minutes and walking 1 minute.

 In May is the 5K to celebrate their accomplishments.  Only the children and family members can run, no professionals.  Hundreds of children and their moms, dads, brothers, and sisters, maybe even some grandparents, all run together.  Everyone who finishes gets a medal.  The start times are staggered, with the fastest children going first.  The winner knows who he is, but no big deal is made of it.  Everyone is celebrated because they did a hard thing, and they learned how to really exercise.  I think it is a wonderful program.  It doesn't require a lot of money or equipment for the school or the parents, and the children feel a real sense of accomplishment.

 We started out bright and early on Saturday morning for the downtown race location.  We eventually found a parking place and followed the crowd to the starting area.  The runners went to their appointed place and I settle down to watch with my 6-year-old grandson.  We were the cheering section because he was too young to run yet and my knees just don't run any more.  We went to one side of the large courtyard and watched as each wave of runners started down the street and around the corner.  Then we walked the block to the other side and cheered them on as they came down another street.  After our favorite runners had gone past, we headed for the finish line to see everyone come home.  Most of the children sprinted at the end.  Most of the adults were quite tired.

My daughter and her children decided that they would stick together during the race.  But as the finish line approached, the 8-year-old speedster couldn't stand it any more.  He had to run and get to the end as fast as possible.  He finished well ahead of the others.  At the very end the 10-year-old sprinted past her mother, leaving my daughter to come in last in their family.  So much for sticking together.  But it was a great time for everyone.  I was so proud of them all.

New Weavers

Today I am grateful for tomatoes - homegrown, right out of the garden tomatoes.  You know what I'm talking about - the ripe juicy flavor that only comes out of the ground, not from the store.  I remember being a little girl working in my mother's garden.  We had picked the vegetables for the day and as we were going in the house, I asked her if I could eat a tomato, right then, like an apple.  She gave me one and I bit into it.  Juice squirted out and ran down my arm, but I didn't care.  It tasted so good, and I was hooked.  Even as a little child, I loved tomatoes.

Recently I had the opportunity to share my studio space with 13 little girls age 8-11 from out church.  They meet every other week to learn a new skill or do a service project.  On this evening they had come to learn about weaving.  We all crowded around the loom and I showed them how it worked - stepping on the treadles, throwing the weft, beating the yarn in.  They were enthralled.  Then they all tried on shawls and became fashion models.

When we had finished with my loom, their leaders pulled out potholder looms for them to use.  We moved into the dining room and spread out all over the tables and floor.  Each girl picked out different color combinations.  ( Except the twins.  Even though they were working separately and had not even looked at what the other was doing, the colors were the same. )  Some were very conscious of color and pattern, carefully placing each looper in just the right order.  Others took a more spontaneous approach, mixing and matching with abandon.  All turned out beautifully.

It was so much fun to teach them to weave and to see their excitement at learning.  Their leaders and I helped them get started and then they just took off.  Most of them understood the under-over concept and got the mechanics down pretty quickly.  Some used the hooks that came with the looms, and some preferred their fingers.  I brought out some potholders that my daughter made many years ago when she was their age.  (I still use them.)  They loved the fact that they would be able to make something truly useful.

All too soon it was time for them to go home.  About half of them finished their potholders.  The rest took them home to finish.  I heard that some made many more at home.  It made me so happy to share something I love so much with them.  I hope some of them continue weaving in the future.

Two weeks later the doorbell rang and there were the girls with a pile of thank you cards.  They were made with construction paper, lots of glitter and love.  I cherish them.  And I will remember them for a long, long time.   I still have glitter on the carpet no matter how many times it is vacuumed.