For your viewing pleasure~
a preview of the March Edition of The Girlhood Home Companion.
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Welcome to Through the Windowpane. I’ve been the featured blogger before, but this time I have the joy of introducing my son Eric to you. Eric is 16, and not old enough to be a featured blogger because of legal technicalities, but you can visit his blog at the link below. He loves to write and his blog is filled with the heart and humor of a homeschool teen. Eric is the computer brains behind our home-based publishing company, Remembrance Press, and I want to share a little bit about what that has meant to our family over the last three years.
Very few of us know what the future holds for our children when we embark upon this exciting and often challenging journey of home education. In fact, we can’t even imagine what the possibilities are and how God will use our children. I’m always amazed as a child’s gifting becomes more apparent as they mature. Kids who seemed to take forever to learn how to read and write, suddenly take off and spread their wings, and everything begins to fall into place. You’re absolutely astounded at what they begin to accomplish if you let them develop at their own pace.
My husband was told by a professor in college that he should go into creative writing (he has always been a gifted storyteller), but as a young man he didn’t have any other encouragement to follow that path, so he missed his calling – until now. I had been an artist as a child and eventually became a graphic designer for David C. Cook Publishing company in the 1980’s. We never dreamed that our family would one day be running a Christian publishing company from home. What started as a fun idea – a way to make writing real for my daughter Claire – has become a home-based business, ministering and equipping the body of Christ all over the world to write and draw from life. I marvel at what the Lord has done and how He has used everyone giftings under this one roof to accomplish His will for our family.
It is often said that God has already given you everything you already need to walk in the good works He has prepared for you. Remember the saying, "God doesn't call the equipped, He equips the called?" For our family that’s certainly true. He has placed editor and writer types (my husband and oldest daughter, Claire) designers, and computer technicians all within the same family (we don’t even know what the little girls bring to the mix, yet).
Most homeschool families who embark on the self-publishing journey learn the ins-and-outs of the business over a period of years, and that’s good because growing your business slowly helps you to learn together and enjoy the journey. Thanks to Eric, I have now become a bit of a techno mom. Some days I’m not sure if that’s good or bad, but this one thing I know, we wouldn’t be able to bless others in this modern computer age if it weren’t for Eric’s computer expertise.
I never dreamed that I would care to know the difference between HTML and Java script. For me uploading was throwing the groceries into the back of the pick-up truck, and downloading was hauling them in the house after we got home. And cookies? What mother doesn't know how to bake cookies? What was this stuff about regularly cleaning them off of your computer anyway? I learned the hard way about ram, memory, and external hard drives (words that weren’t in my vocabulary) until I froze our used and somewhat ancient computer by scanning in too many graphics in at one time.
At first my husband helped me with all of our computer related problems. But slowly over the years (as Eric began to show an aptitude for the technical end of things), Robert was eventually delegated to his rightful position as editor and chief. What started out as an innocent home school project (and probably would have remained just that) has become a full-fledged home-publishing business with everyone finding his or her niche. Because of Eric's commitment and dedication, and his desire to have his own family business, we continue to grow and bless others through the ministry of Remembrance Press.
After I was done writing The Gift of Family Writing last year, we discussed whether we should produce The Girlhood Home Companion again. Eric was enthusiastic about picking it back up. He knows how this unique publication is such a blessing to homeschool families. We often tease him that in the old days all the editors of the ladies magazines were men. It was not unusual to have a man as the impetus behind such an endeavor. So I want everyone to know that without Eric’s dedication and vision The”New”Girlhood Home Companion would only be a dream and not a reality.
Please take some time to visit Eric’s blog The Voice of Experience. He struggled with writing as a child and The Gift of Family Writing flowed out of the things I learned while discovering a way to teach all of my children how to write, including those with an auditory leaning style.
These are some of my favorites posts from Eric’s blog.
http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/BlogBoy/87623/
The Great Flood of 2006
http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/BlogBoy/248766/
Stranded at the Library
http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/BlogBoy/222284
Field trip – No Really a Trip Down in the Field
http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/BlogBoy/136269 Blog Sayings and Computer Slang
http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/BlogBoy/90677/
Only a Cheapskate Like Me Would ask a Question Like That
Ode to Fifty ~ by Marla Nowak Way back yonder in 57 Two proud parents got a glimpse of Heaven Blessed with wonder blessed with thrill Two proud parents named the baby Jill Her bones complain that age isn't nifty She considered 30 so much milder Her joints ache and she feels much tireder (Though she shares a birthday with Laura Ingalls Wilder!) I'm teasing dear Jill because you are still young With pages still blank and verses unsung There are words still unwritten, thoughts still yet penned You are just getting starting my prolific friend Remember Laura's books were written later in life After mommyhood, orchards, hardships and strife So consider the joys that the future will bring As you celebrate past and the new year rings And if you think this poem is silly or lame You have only one person to blame I must take full credit at this stage Just don't blame me, I'm nearly your AGE!!! Marla Nowak (Lilacs)
Now our darling Jill is fifty
Blessings to the birthday girl. I hope you get really good coffee for breakfast, and lotsa extra good cake and ice cream, and all the candles blow out when you make your wish. Happy happy happy 50th. May God bless you abundantly--may you see his love and mercies fresh. May your children and hubby call you blessed today and every day!!! This is for the 7th, hope it is not too early!
The Girlhood Home Companion is looking for girls who would like to minister to other girls through the written word. Does your daughter have a hobby, craft or activity that she would like to share with our audience? We are taking submissions from girls who would like to write fiction or non-fiction for girls. If you have a daughter (age 10-18 ) who just loves to write, send samples of her writing to Submissions for the GHC.
for The Girlhood Home Companion
Remembrance Press
Anyone who knows me knows how much I love old schoolhouses. I would give almost anything to live in one. I am totally captivated by the blackboards, iron scrolled desks, bookcases filled with dusty old books, creaky wooden floors, black potbellied stoves, and tall thin windows with rippled glass. I would love to have a studio in one someday and teach writing and nature journaling there (if you live by an abandoned schoolhouse and want free lessons, let me know)!
I never attended a one-room schoolhouse, but my husband Robert did. We love hearing his story about when his teacher asked him what his last name was. He didn’t know and was banished to the cloak room because the only name he knew was “Bobby.” We’re sure Robert’s sharp wit and good sense of humor are a result of the damage inflicted on him at the tender age of six – the first day of school. The part of the story that really makes us laugh, though, is when he grabs his sister’s arm as she is walking past the cloak room and asks her, “Wilcy, do you know what my full name is?” She says, “No.” We just howl when he tells us that story.
I have a collection of old readers, spellers, and intellectual math books from the turn of the century. The lessons are short and generally incremental, making reading, writing (mauscript and cursive), and ‘rithmetic palatable for young scholars. I’m in total agreement with the Charlotte Mason method, maintaining that children will love to learn if they aren’t overwhelmed with long, drawn-out lessons. And I think there’s a real benefit to using a blackboard, and having children recite spelling words and arithmetic problems orally. Robert is so good at mental math it astounds us, but he also liked to read the encyclopedia as a boy. What can I say? Between the written page, blackboard work, and oral memorization, the facts eventually sink in. Sometimes there is no other way to learn them other than by rote. That’s why we like to play school – the old-fashioned way. Pretending your in a one-room schoolhouse makes memorization fun. Last week we finished reading Understood Betsy by Dorothy Canfield, published by Grosset and Dunlap. My friend Marla Nowak (Lilacs) mentioned that she thought I would love this book, and she was right. My son Eric bought a first edition (1916) for me for Christmas. I actually started reading it to Anna (7) a few months ago from amother copy, but never finished the first chapter because I thought it was focusing on Betsy's self image too much. Constantly doted on by her Aunt Francis, Betsy becomes a sensitive, nervous little thing who doesn’t have a thought of her own. If I had taken the time to read the second chapter, I would have found that Betsy’s life drastically changes for the better when she is sent to live with her cousins on a farm in One of the chapters we just loved in Understood Betsy was about her first day at the country school. Unlike the city teachers, Betsy's new country teacher allowed the pupils to be graded in different subjects according to their abilities. If they excelled in reading, they were in the seventh grade reading class. If they were a little slow in math, they were in the second grade math class. Compared with her previous school experiences, Betsy thought it strange to be in several different grades at once. The teacher also allowed the girls to bring their dolls to school, although they were placed on the cloakroom shelf until they went out for recess. Betsy’s teacher reminds me of a homeschooling Mama, for sure. Teacher ringing the bell No, I would never want my children to step foot in a public school, not for one minute, not even in the good ’ol days. But it is fun to act out the scenes we’ve read about. As Jo says in Little Women, “It’s a play Amy. The play is the thing!” Sometimes it’s just fun to play act – even if it’s for real. I think my children know by now that life is the real classroom whether we’re sitting around the dining room table learning a new cursive alphabet, snuggling on the couch and reading “just one more chapter” of a beloved book, or gathered around the kitchen table measuring flour and sugar for a new cookie recipe. 
Every year our family tries to attend the Walworth County Fair in 
I remember when my oldest daughter, Claire, was five and liked to play school. We lived in a 1934 
Now don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I emulate the public school system – heavens, no! It’s just that we read about one-room school houses all the time, especially in the Little House stories by Laura Ingalls Wilder. Old schoolhouses seem to have a charm all of their own. I once read a book about our country’s early school system, documented in words and illustrations by artist/historian, Eric Sloane. The author tells how the song American school children used to sing originally went this way, “readin’ and writin’ and RELIGION!” Doesn’t that make sense, especially when children heard the Bible read in their homes? How were the seeds of disintegration sown so as to completely remove God from the public school system? Once more, how did the atheistic views of a few become the accepted practice of all? Gena Suarez shares how it happened in Homeschooling Is Not An Option.
School days may seem endless, but this too shall pass! And before you know it the grandkids will be climbing up on our laps and asking us to read them a story, and the cycle will begin again. Playing to learn and learning to play – it’s all the same every day, in the school of life!
Sketch of Speckles - January 9th, 2007
Copyright 2007
by Jill Novak
We have some fun traditions that we celebrate on New Year's Eve. We usually buy all kinds of finger foods and make a holiday smorgasbord like my mother prepared every Christmas Eve when I was a child. After we eat, we gather in the living room to act out a play. This is really fun because we run around the house looking for the right props and costumes that we need. All of this is done at the last minute, but the memories of our spontaneous plays are precious.
Later in the evening, we roll up the living room rug and haul out the old Magnavox record player (it’s the only thing that plays 78’s). We dance to all kinds of celebratory music: square dances, John Philip Sousa marches, the Best of Dixieland Band, the original Sons of the Pioneers, and whatever else tickles our fancy.
Finally around 11:00p.m., I bring out a special prayer box wrapped in gold paper and tied with a simple bow. We all settle down with pen and paper and write out our prayers for the following year. After we’re done writing, we place our prayers in the box, to be left unopened until the following New Year’s Eve. Then we read the prayers that we wrote on the previous New Year’s Eve. It’s a very moving time as we see how faithfully God has answered our requests. It's amazing to see His hand and how He fulfils the desires of our hearts. No, He doesn't answer every prayer in the way we think He will, but we have seen Him answer the majority of them in ways that are always better.
Every year we stand in awe of how the Lord has arranged circumstances or delivered somebody from a habit they were trying to break. It’s also interesting to see how we parents have to work with The Lord to make some of our children’s prayers come true (I know what Anna’s are because I write her prayers down).
If you're looking for a way to teach your children about the power of prayer, and a way to impress upon them how personal and loving their heavenly Father is, I encourage you to start the New Year’s Eve prayer box tradition. It really takes the burden off of having expectations and goals that we have to fulfill for the New Year and puts them in the heavenly court where God can work miracles. It just takes a little faith to wait on Him. But remember, the prayers cannot be read for a whole year… and you’re not allowed to peek!
I remember a gift my husband’s sister gave us 28 years ago as we celebrated our first Christmas together. It was a large box of home-made canned goods and preserves from her garden, nestled among red and green tissue paper. I don’t think I appreciated it that much because I had never canned before, but over the years I have come to be grateful for the hard work it takes to fill just one Ball jar.
Near the end of the summer I found a canning recipe in my Ball Blue Book of Preserving called "end of the garden pickle." I loved the name and the idea of putting up as many different kinds of vegetables in one jar as you possibly could. Waves of melancholy swept over me as I strolled through the garden, red wagon and baskets in tow, gathering the last of the vegetables. I filled a basket with the Spanish onions that
For the last time, I filled the blue speckled quart jar canner with water from the kitchen tap. After washing, scrubbing, peeling, and slicing the vegetables, I measured 4 cups of vinegar and 4 cups of sugar into a large white enamel pot that I use for cooking large batches. Instead of following the recipe exactly, I stirred in a whole jar of McCormick's pickling spices into the simmering mixture. The recipe yielded about six quarts and after the vegetables “cured” for a couple of weeks, I opened the jar and sampled a crisp string bean. The texture was excellent, but the vinegar was way too spicy for my taste buds. I realized I had made a mistake by adding a whole jar of pickling spices and found that I could only tolerate a little of the pickle at a time, just as Iong as I ate it with something like a sandwich. I was disappointed and sure that I had ruined the whole batch.
The week before Christmas I boxed up eight jars of home-made canned goods from our garden and sent them across the miles to my sister June in Maine. I bubbled wrapped each jar individually and carefully packed them into a holiday gift box with a
I called June and told her to open the box right away because there was something perishable in it. I hoped the small jar of thawing pesto would keep as it traveled across the country in cold post office trucks. I also wanted to warn her about a certain item with a rather strong bite.
I wasn't home when the box arrived at her house and by the time I did talk with her that day, it was too late. She had opened the “end of the garden pickle” first and absolutely loved it – all by itself! I was tickled to no end as she raved on and on about the flavor, calling it “scrumpdillyumptious!” When I asked her later what she thought about her Christmas present she said, “Well, needless to say I was ecstatic to receive the bounty of your harvest. After unpacking each and every bottle and reading their names, my mouth began to water.”
June knew from previous experience what a real treat home-made preserves are. Last year she visited at harvest time and taste-tested each recipe as it was being canned. She especially loved my tomato apple chutney and I didn’t think I could outdo myself, but the “end of the garden pickle” is definitely at the top of her list this year.
If you happen to get a home-made jar of piccalilli or dill pickles, or maybe even a jar of “end of the garden pickle” for Christmas next year, consider yourself honored. You won’t just be getting a jar of vegetables, but a labor of love. 
My faithful friend Lexington followed me up to the garden everyday and kept me company
as I journaled and wrote about the garden. Pookoo, one of our six cats is sitting in my garden chair.
I couldn't bring myself to write about the end of the gardening season this year. How could I say goodbye? Who can find words to express the way you feel when you are separated from someone – or something – you’ve held so dear, even for just a season? It was hard to bring closure to all the experiences I had, nurturing seedlings to maturity to reaping a harvest-full of memories with my husband and children.
Harriette Jacobs from South of the Gnat Line asked me if I “winter garden.” I chuckled at the thought. I would if I could, but frigid
This year, most of the vegetables were harvested long before the frost came. Due to too much rain in August, the tomato plants shriveled and turned brown by September, a good month before the chilling temperatures arrived. Unlike most years, when my fingers – numb with cold – fumble under broad green leaves for the last home-grown tomatoes, the children and I picked the vines clean in 70-degree weather with the sun beating down upon our backs.
Finally, October 12th, dawned. A surprise blizzard barreled down on us from the North, mocking our attempts to keep the garden permanently fixed in our affections. I donned a pair of gloves, boots, and my warm winter parka. In-between squalls I sloshed up to the garden to take pictures of the remaining snow-covered vegetables. Anna joined me, and as we walked the garden path, we recited the opening line from James Whitcomb Riley's poem, "When the Frost is on the Punkin’.” The weather radio forecasted a hard frost that night and sure enough, by the next morning, Jack Frost had stole ruthlessly across the fields, scaling the garden fence, icy sword in hand to slay my heart.
I knew this day would come, and even though I made a conscious effort to spend more time up in the garden than I did last year, I still couldn’t believe the growing season was over. Gone were all the joy-filled mornings of sitting under the young walnut tree, watching the American gold finches flit from one sunflower to another. Gone was the hallowed spot of earth next to the bean trellises, where from my chair I surveyed my garden with delight. Sitting there, shaded from the hot sun with my Bible, journal and cup of coffee, I listened intently to the words and phrases that God brought to mind. Pictures and analogies formed, causing my heart to understand the truths that He was teaching me – lessons that could only be learned from observing young pole beans inch their way to the sky or heavy cucumbers hang from thin tender vines. The time spent walking the garden paths brought deep contentment as I drank in the heavenly fragrance of milkweed in July and the spicy odor of tomato perfume in August. And here it was December…and no words came.
As much as I like to be prepared, I ran out of time to put together a present for our dear neighbor, Mrs. Kraft. Sarah, as she likes to be called, is 90 and there isn’t much she needs or wants any more and there isn’t much you can surprise her with unless you give her a one-of-a-kind homemade gift. Over the last few years I have given her a lot of nature-related gifts because the land we live on belongs to her. One year, we gave her a DVD filled with nature photography and drawings that we had captured of specimens that she and her family just take for granted. Another year I gave her a series of watercolors, painted from wildflowers that grow on her two hundred acre farm. Another year I gave her a book full of journal entries recounting the stories and comments she had said to us over the year’s time. This year I found myself wondering what kind of gift would really bless her – something that I hadn’t done before.
I looked at my canned goods shelf. I had already given her several different jars of pickles at harvest time. And then I thought about my garden journal. She hadn’t heard these stories yet. I got my binder out and thumbed through the entries. This would make a wonderful gift along with a jar of crabapple sauce from her favorite little crabapple tree. There was one more thing. Our pet goose Peep-Peep (also one of Sarah’s favorites)just started laying again. We had a large white egg we could give her. I carefully wrapped it inside a vintage Christmas hankie with red embroidered poinsettias that my sister had sent from
When Sarah opened her presents she was so thrilled. She thanked me over and over again for the “priceless” gifts. I knew once again that we had given her a gift of gratitude from our hearts to hers, and that’s when the words came – the story of how my garden journal found its way to Sarah’s hands on Christmas Day. It was the perfect ending to a joy-filled gardening season…and “priceless!”
All of our snow melted and it looks like we live in Beverly Hills L.A. Once again we’re dreaming of a White Christmas and waiting for the next storm to blow through – in the meantime, we’re making our own flakes.
“Run out some more of those snowflakes,” Claire said. What snowflakes is she talking about? The ones from Dave’s Snowflake Page at http://www3.ns.sympatico.ca/dstredulinsky/home.html . They’re the most delicate and intricately designed snowflakes I’ve ever seen – except for the real thing (visit Nancy Baetz’s blog for an up close picture of a snowflake). And they couldn’t be easier to make. For a modest fee of $12.00 you can access over 300 designs from 1999 - 2006. There are several different levels to choose from (easy to difficult), and all you have to do is print them, fold them, and cut them out with a pair of sharp scissors. Dave has dedicated his website to his mother, Kathleen Stredulinsky, who he says “explored and perfected the art of snowflake making and encouraged our whole family to gather round the tree each Christmas Eve and create new snowflakes.” Every time one of our family members finishes a snowflake we ooh and ah over it. You can tape these to the living room window, hang them from the ceiling or even use them to decorate Christmas presents. The possibilities are endless. Visit Dave’s site and try out a sample snowflake and you too can make snow “no matter what the weather outside.”
