Singing at SBC: Chapel style, the POWER of the WORD, and lemonade

I love when she sings in here!

HOLY and GROUNDED IN LOVE.

We come to you thirsty, Lord. We will continue to walk in the light.

Just tonight, Tatum illustrated the POWER of the WORD with her 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 BIBLES as she counted them. Then she proceeded to tell me how could one NOT believe after so many copies/translations/time passed.

We seek your face, Father.

This morning, Monday, we began our new study:
MAKING LEMONADE:

Bright mornings before the HAYVEN happenings

My honey. He’s so good to us. Look how he brightened our home! The entrance is so inviting. It says,”Come in and feel the warmth and comfort of our “HAY”ven.”

Only to begin another wonderful day. Isn’t it so delightfully bright? Like my Taties.

Tatum used to “DREAD” Sunday nights because she knew Monday was school. Now she can’t wait to begin!

Here is our week and some morning directives.

Stay tuned for more.

Tatum’s Reflection on her first week.

She took her “tests” this week at Starbucks since I had a previous commitment meeting there with some ladies (sisters in Christ from ENRICH)

I gave her list:

Her first question was for her reflection journa

Reflection 2/23/24

My homeschool experience has changed my life. 

  • My teacher is the best teacher ever! 
  • My teacher is my best friend. 
  • In one day I am learning as much as I learned in a week at school.
  • I am not distracted by other people.
  • There is a treasure box. 
  • Amarillo is my best friend.
  • I LOVE OUR CLASSROOM!
  • I don’t feel rushed about turning my work in. 
  • I’m building my relationship with Mom. 

SMILE. MELT

Math…she’s getting better

The next…this is the assessment I used to give my 8TH GRADERS! And look at her writing just a rough no book used. (from her head)


She was so efficient and focused. She earned her TENTH punch and ability to reach inside the treasure chest.

The joy of playdoh…still at 11 years old.

And as we speak, she still is playing 36 hours later. HER IMAGINATION BLOWS MY MIND.

I’m so proud of your efforts. LOVE BUG!

In tact yolks, dendrites moving, and writing blossoming

She’s got the perfect technique for the “FLIP.”

Yes, Coopy…you ‘ll get yours in a minute.

Then, as usual, she loves to walk and talk, and while reading her book. Newest is from Ted Dekker’s Journey series. LOVE!

And…she added to her “Jade” story. LOVING THIS!
…. See the previous day.

This is the next paragraph:

The van jolted to a complete stop. I lunged forward. A stranger named Clyde walked over to my seat. He had a scruffy black beard that was right below the chin. He sat down next to me and pulled out a piece of what looked like candy. He bit off one chunk, chewed, swallowed, then did that over and over as I sat staring at him. When he finished, he swallowed, then took out another piece of candy and slowly handed it to me. I shook my head in disbelief and began to reach out. But Clyde shook his head and swatted my hand away. “Don’t you know not to take food from strangers?” I nodded. His gruff voice sounded very sad sadder than usual. “When I was a boy, one time, a stranger tried to poison me with this ere candy bar. Luckly my ere mama swaed my and away and I was safe.” 

That night ,as I lay in bed, I thought about what Clyde had said to me. I really could’ve been poisoned? Could I have? I pondered that if I really had been poisoned, would that be better than my life now? My conclusion was yes being poisoned would be better than this life. 

The next morning, I woke up at four in the morning. I climbed out of bed, pulled open my curtains, turned on the shower, brushed my teeth, got into the shower ,which at that time, was freezing cold, got dressed, climbed downstairs, opened the cabinet, got out a bowl and spoon, poured cereal into the bowl, opened the fridge, poured the milk into the bowl filled with cereal, sat down, and ate. As I ate my cereal I noticed the newspaper sitting on the table. I pulled it forward and read the headline, Boy Died From Train, I stopped chewing. Because under the headline was the name, Black Morristine, my dead younger brother. 

DUH DUH DUUUUUUUUUH!!!

2nd day HAYVEN: My little writer blossoms: producing creativity

She has begun to write her book!

But first, Day 2 of HAYVEN Homeschool

Here’s our schedule and her quick write. We always warm up with a read aloud and write.

Here is part 1…first draft.

 On our break, she popped this out!

Prologue

Vans are disgusting and smelly. They are even more disgusting and smelly when you have four people squished against you. This was my life; a very disgusting and smelly van with four strangers digging their elbows into my rib cage. Strangers who know nothing about me and who could be serial killers, and one wrong move and I could be dead. Strangers who have the smelliest farts in the whole entire world. And if you had to be in my shoes, you would be dead in one millisecond. None of them are black people. 

There are usually older people on this van but once in a while, there will be kids my age with parents. Kids who are white. Kids who board onto this van both their mother and father clutching their hands. White kids who stare  me down as if I was dead, and sometimes I wish I was dead. Kids who have a thick, bold accents will never speak to me, and will sit five aisles in front of me. No black people. White kids whose shoes are new and clean Jordans and Nikes.

     Chapter 1: Black 

I’m Black. No,no I’m a White American, my name is Black. Kids at school call me blank, but my name is Black. I had no clue why my mother called me that because I have blue eyes that resemble the ocean, not black eyes and I have brown musty hair, not black hair. 

I love to run. I love to smell the dew on the trees, dripping down, while I race across the fields, being careful not to slip down the slippery slope.  I love to race across dry open fields going full speed while the dirt clings to the souls of my shoes.

I was born into a small family. My older siblings had to work the crops for food and would come home all sweaty and tired. They would bark at me if I sat down funny. 

When I was 12 years old I couldn’t remember my parents. You see I was blind. I wasn’t born blind, in fact I could see up until my tenth birthday. Then I stopped being able to see. It was hard for me to comprehend that I would never be able to see again.  By then I was used to it.  I knew why I was named Black, because then everyone and everything was black.  

About two months before I had had a really bad heart attack which is why I was in the hospital bed lying there my oxygen tank failing. 

I gasped for air. My lungs were failing me. I felt dizzy and nauseous. My heartbeat got faster. Then it stopped. I floated up. I could clearly see my body in the hospital bed. I could see! 

I heard one  of the nurses cry out “the boy is dead.” Was she talking about me? Was I really dead? I could clearly see my body laying there, not moving. I kept lying there, well, not really me more my body kept lying there. I saw my mother. Her face was as red as a cherry from crying. I saw my older brother grasping her arm probably coaxing her. And I saw my sister red-faced her head buried in her hands. Then I saw my adopted sister, Jade, who was black, and who nobody paid attention to. But I didn’t see my dad. My family was all there except my dad. 

Chapter 2

Life continued on. Being black was hard. Especially, here in Applo, Dracton. School was especially hard. My name is Jade. I’m 14 years old. I’m adopted. Losing my little brother was very hard, but I moved on since I had only known him for four weeks. Then I started getting tempted to do wrong things. But there was always one car that I was always in, a smelly and disgusting van. 

I always had to be in it, picking and dropping off strangers. Being squished in the middle next to total complete strangers who could be serial killers. I got made fun of on that van.  I got bullied on that van. I got squished and hurt on that van. And let me tell you something being black is the worst on that van.    

The only wrong things that I could do on that van was try to pickpocket somebody. But my “father” would scold me every single time. One time I actually got away with it but what I got was only some lint. That’s why I think my “father “ didn’t scold me, because he probably couldn’t care less about me stealing lint.            

My favorite show growing up was Thomas the train.  I used to watch it for three hours a day. But my favorite character was Percy. I used to chant, “Percy marry Thomas”, four times a day. But a black three year old wearing a Thomas the train shirt was probably really embarrassing for my mother and father, so at four I stopped watching it. 

MORE TO COME

Official FIRST DAY of the “HAY”ven HOMESCHOOL!

I had a doc appt today, so we got a late start. But HAY! We did it!

We started this morning with our

Pledge to AMERICA
Pledge to the HOLY BIBLE

The Hay verses for our school (in pink and purple)

Our verse of the week! We’ll make this one last 3.

I had my lessons all planned out.

And TOT WAS READY!
(cold but ready)

I like to always start with a read aloud (from Maniac Magee), then she “reflects” in her reflection journal.

Some Math drills and mad minutes. Then Math probs and grammar.

Cooper?

I have a little treasure box (see the brown box in the pic)> Yes, she’ll get to pick goodies out as she earns them.

Today, she worked so hard, and we continue to learn together in the HAYVEN. Maniac Magee will be a fun lit study.


We’ll also be working on her
WRITING from the Young Writer’s Workshop (a young writer’s help publishing group)

Books from Chicken Scratch (a clean publisher!)

Bible Studies from Not Consumed

And Saxon Math.

Grammar? I’m using the book study for now and some of Shurley too.

History? We’ll still use her workbook, but I want to read some Autobios of famous historic figures and missionaries.

Stay tuned for more excitement!