The Bible Verse Box

He pointed to the far corner of our upstairs loft, motioning to the bottom of the end table by the couch.

“Let’s get out the Bible verse box,” suggested my four-year-old.  We had already done some activities with Little Passports, read a leveled reader and sang a couple of nursery rhymes from his What Your Kindergartner Needs to Know.  Generally G is much more eager to re-enact epic superhero battles with me, than engage in my planned out activities.

Like any typical four-year-old, G’s proclivity to be guided into an organized lesson waxes and wanes.  Because he has already begun reading so well, simply through story time, I have allowed him to read on his own when he chooses.  And he chooses often at the most surprising of times.

Cereal boxes at breakfast.

Billboard advertisements on the freeway.

Random books from his shelf.

My private emails over my shoulder.

Sports results from the bottom of the t.v.

Some educators refer to this as environmental print.  G calls it “reading his words.”

On this day, however, he was focused, so I continued letting him choose the next activity.  And apparently he had several things on his mind, including the Bible verse box.

Our Bible verse box looks like this:DSC_0026

An old, cardboard box covered over in typing paper and decorated by a five and four year old A and S, has sat on top of select back issues of Appleseed and Cricket magazines for several years.  We originally created this and filled it with Bible verses on love, bearing with one another and patience, in those early first days of sibling rivalry.  What began as a way to infuse a bit of kindness and respect into my boys, has unwittingly become another way of encouraging literacy.  Add a colorful card stock backing and apparently we have an appealing way to include a little Bible in our family’s morning Together Time.

We don’t make use of this box regularly anymore, but occasionally G asks for it.  Instead of pulling out our Bibles for a lengthier read, A and S still like participating with G, choosing a purple or green-backed proverb, a yellow reminder from Ephesians.

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The Bible verse box also houses trading cards of the apostles and the sixty-six books of the Old and New Testaments. You can print them out here.  Unfortunately, they have started charging for them now.

If G is determined to read, I am happy he is reaching for these words of wisdom, even from an old, cardboard box.

How Jackson Pollock saved a summer morning

Summer is fading.  I know because the school bus brakes hiss in front of our house around eight-fifteen every weekday morning now.  The big box stores devote an entire section  to brightly colored school supplies – folders and Trapper Keepers, glue sticks and protractors.  And, because I am seeing less of my children.  They are wandering about the house in search of entertainment, irritably spending more time alone in their rooms.  Let’s not relive the petty squabbles that have become way too prevalent the last couple of weeks.

It was time to take action.  And it turns out it wasn’t that hard.  I focused on G, and everyone else seemed to fall into place.  My goal was to get him outside running around before he realized it was time for PBS’s Curious George.

I asked G if he wanted to paint outside like the famous artist Jackson Pollock.  He was enthusiastic.  A had been wandering up and down the stairs and overheard me.

“Can I paint too?”

“Sure…if you want.”

We began to gather supplies from the bottom drawer of our craft cart – paints, plastic tray for a palette, brushes, yarn, craft sticks, etc.

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S came storming down the stairs.

“Can I do a Pollock painting, too?”

“Of course.”

Here we are eight-thirty or nine in the morning.  Outside, under blue skies.  Taping our paper down on to the back patio.  Happy, all three boys doing something together again.  And it wasn’t that hard. It really didn’t take any planning.

the MixWe talked about how Pollock worked over his canvas, flicking, smearing, pouring the paint directly on.  We talked about how he created as he went, letting the paint land where it willed.  There were no mistakes.  If he didn’t like something he continued flicking, mixing until it looked right.

“I’m NOT Jackson Pollock!” G kept insisting.  “I’m Van Gogh!”  And with his purposeful, short, thick strokes, he was.

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I’m not sure why I was so surprised by how pleased they were with this unplanned activity, or how different each of their paintings turned out.  But I was.  Happily so.

A's painting
A’s painting

 

 

G's painting
G’s painting

 

 

 

 

 

After they finished painting we did watch a brief video of Jackson Pollock describing his technique.  You may view it here.

If you asked them, however, I suppose, they would vote for another round of Nerf guerrilla warfare throughout the house with their dad.  They are energetic boys, after all.  But Jackson Pollock did save that morning.

We were outdoors.  Together.  We were engaged in a familiar activity in an out-of-the-ordinary location.  The birds were singing.  They were allowed expected to make a mess.  Mistakes never factored in to the equation.  There was not a single mention of whose painting was the best.  Competition did not exist – for the moment.  Each of them was simply busy, creating…for the moment.  Quite a feat, Mr. Pollock.

A final tip: Wipe up any stray paint splatters as soon as possible.  We may or may not have had rainbow-freckled siding at our house for a few days.

S's painting
S’s painting