2/28/2013

More than a toy, teaching and learning with a camera

Yesterday we talked a bit about teaching our kids (and ourselves) how to use a camera to express ourselves a bit better. Today we're going to think about using the camera as a tool for learning.

Enhancing art concepts
There are a great deal of art concepts that transfer into the world of photography: form, line, perspective, mood, detail, etc. Pick a concept and take your kids (or yourself) on a little scavenger hunt. On our last hunt my kids and I thought about lines, curved, strait, vanishing points, broken etc. After we brainstormed as many types of lines as we could think of, and items we could think of that would demonstrate each type of line (park bench, railroad track, power line etc) we made ourselves a little "to find" list before going out on our hunt.

Creative writing opportunities
We all know that a picture is worth a thousand words, right? So why not use a little time with the camera as an opportunity to jump start the creative writing process? Why not challenge your kids to write a story and narrate it with photographs? Or "a day in the life of..." Put on your creative cap and think of some fun scenarios that the kids can document with words and images like "the day plastic frogs invaded our house". Your child has a wonderfully creative voice, let him use the camera to help him enhance the story he wants to tell you.

Now what?
With a hard drive full of photos, and a kid who doesn't particularly want to sit down with a pencil and notebook paper on his day off from school, you're not quite sure where to go next, right? I know. If you're a creative soul like me, your kids are probably a bit over fun posters and snazzy scrapbook stickers as well. Fortunately there are a host of ways for your story teller to share his tale. Think about a blog post, instant print book from snapfish, or an online photo album with Flickr or Facebook that they could forward to their friends...

So what are you waiting for? It's time to empower your little story teller to share his voice. Go forth and photograph!

2/27/2013

Your child photographer

Y'all know I like my camera right? And y'all know I'm also a little fanatical about creatively empowered children right? Well these two crazy little passions bonked heads over a little article I wrote for one of my favorite family online magazines. Check it.

These days it’s fairly common to see youngsters carrying around a camera. Technology has made it both simple and affordable for our youngsters to record and share their memories. Sadly, most of the photos our kids take are less than stellar. More often than not they’re off kilter, out of focus and poorly composed. But do they have to be? The memories our children are making are so valuable that they’re worth investing a little time and elbow grease to improve. There are a handful of quick tips and tricks to help our kids improve their ability to show us the images they want us to see.
Let go of the “hey, cool snap!” mentality
The problem with most child photographers is that they generally don’t put a ton of thought into what they are photographing. My own children are guilty of running up to something of interest and snapping off a quick shot before they’re off to the next object of interest. The problem with this drive by shooting philosophy is fairly evident when you stop to look at the photos, many times you can’t even tell why the photo was taken. The best way to remedy this problem is to get your child photographer to slow down and be more intentional about the subject of their photos.

Read the rest .here... 

2/25/2013

When abiding is really just hiding with a fancy name stuck to it.

There are many things I was sure I would never do as I set out to raise children. Things like scream at them in public or let them watch hours of mindless television. That was back when parenting was mostly theory and very little reality.

You're with me, right Mama?

Then there are things I was really sure I'd never do. Like give my child an antipsychotic drug because I was afraid he was about to hurt himself.

Ahem.

Raising a special boy is a process. Not only a process in surviving the here and now, but a process of recognizing that I'm not a supreme authority in parenting. Recognizing that yes, I can keep my family safe through my child's violent episode, but really it's just better to have him properly medicated so that the episodes can be few and far between.

Recognizing that I can do all things with Christ who strengthens me, but really it is better to admit there are people trained to educate my child with severe learning issues so I can focus on educating the rest of my children.

Sometimes I think it's easy to hide behind my faith and pretend that if I just stick it out long enough things will get better. For too long I've been clinging to inspirational phrases like Rise up on wings like eagles, be strong and couragous, and He will never leave or forsake and so forth. When in reality God has been using my hard circumstances to tell me that my son's issues are not my problem to fix. That walking humbly and asking for help is not the same thing as admitting defeat.

Raising a special boy has taught me that I am not a bad mom for putting the well being of my family ahead of my pride, and anyone who says differently is a lier. And you know how I feel about being lied to.

2/19/2013

My lies

Satan is a liar. We all get that, right? It's not news to most people who are reading this. I'm sure. The fact that Satan still lies to people who love Jesus is hopefully not new to any of you either. We talked a recently talked a bit about the lies I've heard in regards to my son, but those aren't the only ones I've heard lately.
So since I made a pact with myself not to keep secrets with you, and we're already on the theme of lying anyway I thought I'd share another little lie that keeps resurfacing in my heart. Maybe you've heard something similar whispered in your ear and haven't been able to fully process the truth behind it. Lets talk about this together, shall we? 
My next lie that I'm ashamed to admit that I've considered for even a second is that because I'm not some really famous or well respected spiritual leader (the kind with my own radio program, or 14 published devotionals under my belt) that the cries of my heart are less meaningful to God, and are somehow less powerful than they could be if I was "famous".  Therefor my quiet offerings are of a much lower quality than they could be if more people heard the truths that Jesus has shared with me. 
Some days I feel like these quiet offerings somehow make me the Walmart version of a Christian. Poorly constructed, cheap materials, low quality second rate goods. And surely my simple praise offering reflects my second rate status. And there are dark moments when these lies are full force in my face and all I can cry out is that I don't want to bring God something I bought at Walmart, because I'd really rather bring a swanky gift from Dillard's, or Williams Sonoma. Like my simple Jesus loving Mama faith isn't good enough for God. And if a few more people could hear what I had to say, then maybe I'd feel better about my faith. Does that even make sense? It does in my head, and Satan pounds me in the face with it all the time. 

And I hate to admit it, but there have been many many times I wasted a little too much of my prayer time whining. I whine because I don't feel very influential. I whine because my "ministry" only extends to a handful of people. Most times I find myself whining too loudly to hear the truth. But then there are times I remember to shut up for just a few moments the allow the truth to wash over me like a warm bath. My simple-not super influential faith-is exactly what God wants from me. It's far more beautiful to God than anything Dillards has to offer.  Just because it doesn't feel like God isn't using my faith to shake up the world, doesn't mean He isn't. 

What I bring is good enough for Jesus, and what you bring is also.  So there. 

2/14/2013

Book Review: Challenge on the HIll of Fire

Today we're talking about the latest installment in Adventures in Odyssey's Imagination Station series. Which just happens to be one of my favorite kids series that my kids and I have read together. And not because they sent them to us for free. Ahem. Today's we have book 10 titled "Challenge on the Hill of Fire".

In book 10 Patrick and Beth travel to 5th century Ireland to get to the root of the Irish folklore. Instead of finding a pot of gold and the cute leprechauns they expected, they encounter dangerous druids as they seek  the safety of the community of Believers who follow the bishop. Patrick and Beth have to wonder who exactly this bishop is, and why isn't he afraid to die for his religious beliefs?

Mom comments: Another consistent performance from the writers of this series. I have loved every book I've read in this series, and this one was just as much of a joy to read as every other I've read in the series. Good stuff. Buy the whole series.

Annie says: The book was fun, I liked the part where they were making a leprechaun trap, and the poison part was interesting too!

Louisa says:I liked it. I especially liked Finn the squirrel, he was very funny!

2/11/2013

On moving a mountain...

When I took on raising a wounded child, I had a pretty good idea of what I was getting myself into. 2 hour meltdowns don't scare me, the taunting and threatening words that come with Oppositional Defiant Disorder don't particularly worry me. And now that we have an antipsychotic to give him, I don't have to be afraid of his somewhat dangerous self soothing tendencies either. I'm not too proud to man handle my son to get him to cooperate, I can even do it with a smile on my face, because I learned a long time ago not to take my son's behavior personally. I can do all these things because I put my hope in the fact that God called my son by name, and therefor He has a reason for creating him just as he is.

But the other day, after a particularly frustrating 2 hour long episode, my son whispered words to me that were filled with such pain and hopelessness that my already weakened defense system shut down and I was a complete mess who couldn't take care of her family.

And I put this crazy desperate plea on Facebook for someone to pray cause I'm about two seconds away from walking my son down to Child Protective Services and handing him over with a smile and dismissing wave, because I was just done.

Done wrestling him into submission, done trying to prove that my love is bigger than his pain, and generally just done trying to move this mountain that is clearly not going anywhere. After 14 months of consistant, prayerful parenting my son still does not recognize me as an authority figure, and there is not a darned thing I can do to change that.

And the lies that Satan whispers to my son are slamming me in the face as well. He will never change, there is no hope for this one, just give up on him like everyone else did, every one of your Jesus loving friends would have done so ages ago. In short, this problem is a mountain that you are incapable of moving, because your problem is bigger than God's ability to fix it.

I'm not going to admit how many hours I allowed my spirit to wallow in those lies. I knew they were lies at the time, but knowing something is different than believing it. In order to believe it I needed a little perspective, and a whole lot of truth.

From the outside I have to admit that I'm a little ashamed that my heart ever considered those lies for a moment. From this side of the emotional breakdown I can recognize those lies for what they are and feel justified anger towards them.

I can even go a little bit Mama-bear crazy all up in their face, cause no one lies to Mama, and ain't nobody gonna tell me Jesus can't do anything He wants, including "fixing" my broken baby. And if I use my best imagination I can sort of imagine Jesus going a little Mama-bear over me and my boy, cause I know He totally did.

2/07/2013

Why weren't you here?

Dear max
The other day I was looking through old photos to put in a scrapbook when I ran across this one from a few summers back. This was taken the week that Grandma and Papa came with your dad's aunt and uncle. They stopped by to see us on their RV trip to the east coast. The photos from this day are part of a long line of simple every day type memories of family and friends before you joined our family. Normally I have no emotional issues connected to remembering back to our life before you joined us, it's kind of fun to show you what we did and what we were like before you were ours. But this time was different. When I see this picture of your brother and sisters happily smiling for the camera with people they love the grief washes over me like the pounding ocean waves. 
 
Not all of my kids are in this one. One of my babies was far away, beyond the reach of my loving arms. I can't help but ask, Why didn't God let you be with us on this fun day? Why were you alone and sad in the orphanage instead of holding Grandma's hand like you should be? Why didn't you join our family in time to get to know your Papa before he died? You would have loved him.
 
I get that God's plan for you was (and still is) perfect. Everything in me clings to the understanding that you needed to bake a little longer in Russia in order for you to become who God needed you to be. But even with that understanding I can't help the flood of raw emotion I experience when I think about you missing out on sharing sweet moments from my past. 
 
I need you to know that the pain from your story doesn't stop with you. You aren't the only one who cried in the night because the ones you loved weren't there for you. It honestly breaks my heart that I missed 7 years if your life. Your sweet baby sounds, your funny toddler walk, the curious preschool years. I mourn for all of those stages that you went through that I wasn't a part of.  It also breaks my heart that I have 7 years worth of photos that you should be in, but aren't. The photos we have with friends and family members who have passed away before you joined us. The vacations we took to far away places without you. The happy everyday photos of us hanging out at home enjoying life together. 

I so want to grab a magic eraser and scrub out all the painful memories from your past and replace them with the ones in our old scrapbooks. But I know if I do that then I"ll be cheapening the perfect plan God has for you. The beautiful story that is uniquely yours. So cling to your story and cling to your memories. I'm sorry that your memories are different than mine, but I'm so very glad that we can move forward together making a world of new memories together as we go. 
I love you forever, 
Mama

2/05/2013

Why didn't he come for me?

Little Max has had little to say about his life before he joined our family. When we adopted a seven year old, I expected to have an inside story as to what life in a Russian orphanage was really like, but so far he hasn't been able to tell me much about his former life at all. Which is a little sad, but mostly just because I'm a nosy nellie.

So the other day when he asked if he could tell me about Russia I was all ears. He took me back to the last time he saw his father. He was five and a half, and his dad was still his hero. Despite the obvious signs of neglect and abuse his biological care givers doled out on him, he can only tell me good things about his dad. Although I'm suspicious of his memories, I can only be grateful that he does have a few happy memories of his father to cling to.

So on this last visit with his father there was all sorts of treats brought into the orphanage by his papa, and paper airplanes made by both. I can only imagine the joy that could have fill that orpahange room as father and son attempted to reconnect, and turn the page towards a brighter future together. At the end of the visit, his father must have whispered to him, "I'll come back and take you home soon".

We all know the crushing weight such words must have left when they obviously weren't fulfilled. But to hear my baby ask me why his dad didn't come back for him broke my heart.

I can't tell him that his father was a jerk and didn't take care of him. I can't remind him of the neglect and abuse that he obviously has burried deep inside his soul. I can only tell him the truth that I know for sure. His dad did want him, and fought to get him back. The fact that his dad was drunk at each court hearing he attended is irrelevent.

And I can tell him that God wanted him to be in my family so we could teach him to love Jesus, and because Alex needed a little brother to play with, and because God needed to use him to teach me how to be a better person.

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