Reflections: Lessons From A Lake

"Don't pack anything fancy, girls. We're going to Grandpa's cabin by the lake in the woods for vacation this year." The words were hardly out of daddy's mouth before I began to shudder. Even though I had been quite young and several years had passed since being there, my fears were quick to resurface. As I recalled, the cabin was more like a shack - made of roughly hewn logs from trees my grandfather had chopped himself.  The woods had been wild, "bug-gy", and also known to have an occasional bear. When we swam in the lake we got leeches on our toes. And perhaps what bothered me more than anything was the secret I carried deep in my heart. My grandpa scared me. He was a huge man with an even bigger voice. He had a head of wild red hair, rarely shaved, had worked deep in the coal mines all his life and was wrinkled and rough.  I attempted a smile at daddy, but my mind was screaming, "Shack, Bugs & Bears, Leeches, Scary Grandpa!"

Upon arrival my memory of the roughly hewn cabin was indeed a reality. So much for a comfortable week. Grandpa stepped out of the doorway and his booming voice bellowed out his welcome. His embrace was bone crushing. I went weak-kneed.  But...supper was amazing! Grandpa had caught fish that afternoon in "his" lake, cleaned them and fried them up for supper. I don't think I'd ever had anything so tasty. And dessert - homemade blueberry pie! He actually winked at me when he served it. Like he had a secret or something.

The next morning Grandpa asked me if I would like to "go to the blueberry store" with him. I knew there weren't any stores around and then he winked again. We walked down to his rickety dock, climbed into his ancient wooden rowboat and set off. I had to admit, the view on the lake was beautiful! In just a matter of minutes, Grandpa pulled into a cove and tied the boat to a tree stump. I stayed close behind him, always mindful of what might be lurking in the bushes. "Are there bears?" I asked. "No, not here," he boomed, "I'd just scare 'em away." We'd hardly walked at all before coming to an immense patch of blueberry bushes. "Pick all you want, honey. They grow wild here."  On the way back to the cabin, Grandpa taught me how to row the boat!  His booming "Pull left, pull right" echoed across the lake and actually made me laugh!

No, I still don't swim in lakes. But I know that rough old cabins and rough old men have often been roughly hewn from hearty beginnings.  Once you begin to sand off the rough exterior you may find some beauty underneath. I can still row a boat and I can make a tasty blueberry pie. Thanks to a weathered old red-haired miner who lived on a lake and took a little girl blueberry picking one fine summer day.

This month we are featuring an awesome array of books with the theme of WATER.  And just as I began our family vacation with a pout on my face as I feared going to Grandpa's cabin, we'll be sharing a special book about a fish who was also pouting about a fear he was facing. Goodness, we have a sea serpent, a whale, a water park... July is "overflowing" with great water books and activities! Enjoy!

Mary Byrne Kline

Reflections: NO Quitting!

The Byrne Sisters

As a kid I could hardly wait to flip the calendar to June - lazy days of freedom lay ahead. Lemonade stands with nickels and dimes rolling in, hours of jump rope contests, hopscotch competitions, marble wars and bike rides until the street lights would come on.  My sisters and I would sit in bed, giggling and talking, deciding the best way to spend the next day. Which activity should take priority? Who would get the jump rope with the best handles? Did we have enough chalk for a really big hopscotch pattern on the driveway? Had mom bought Kool-Aid or lemonade for us to sell?  We'd chatter until our snickering gave us away and a stern "Girls, get to sleep!" caused us to finally settle in for the night.

There were, however, two unforeseen flaws in our perfect summer plans. Chores and boredom. I don't recall the chores assigned to either of my sisters, but I clearly remember mine. Daddy gave me an old dull-bladed knife, actually an old butter knife, and sent me outside to rid our entire length of sidewalk cracks of weeds. Holy cow! Did he know how much sidewalk we had and how many weeds were growing in all those cracks? Figuring about 3 sidewalk squares per day,  I'd probably finish when I was 50!

The Byrne Pet Parade

Boredom came after about a week of playing the same games, especially when my older sister bailed to be with her friends. That's when IT happened. My friend Maria and I came up with the most wonderful idea. We would create a club. Not just any club. It would be a nature club. We would call it Explorers Of Nature! My deftness with the butter knife became almost magical as I attacked the sidewalk weeds with a newfound energy.  Maria and I had a club to manage! As the older and "so-much-wiser" of the group, we took weekly turns being President and Vice President. My little sister, Barbie was relegated as "Member".  She wasn't too happy about this, especially since she was given all the duties we didn't want, such as sweeping the section of the basement where meetings would be held, serving us our Kool-Aid and being last in line when we went on nature hikes. Her grumbling caused us as Officers to come up with our only E.O.N. rule - "Members can only quit 2 times in each meeting!" Barb was not happy, but agreed.  I was President the week of the animal parade and got to be first in line. Barbie had to follow me.

It was quite a summer.  With our green and white E.O.N. flag on a stick and armed with my trusty butter knife, the three of us spent many long hours roaming through fields, among trees and backyards investigating bird nests, anthills, bugs and we even found an old buried book about Abraham Lincoln. Little Barbie trudged along behind, never quitting, even when we'd sneak ahead of her.  To be honest, she was the bravest one when it came to digging anything up or daring to touch anything.  I learned a lot from her even then.

My sisters and I are only able to get together about once a year now. But when we do we still stay up late giggling and sharing about when we were kids. And we still argue about who got the jump rope with the best handles most of the time (it was Lynda). I still complain about having had to dig sidewalk weeds. And dear Barb always reminds me of her plight as the only member of the E.O.N. club. But amidst that laughter the three of us grow quiet. For you see, I not only learned about bravery from my little sister on those hikes, I also saw her spirit that wouldn't quit.  That "No Quitting" spirit is still remarkably alive in her today.

The precious memories of childhood games, dreams, even chores have a way of staying with you for the rest of your life. This month we are focusing on ways you can experience outdoor joy with your children as you play hopscotch, jump rope, or play a game of marbles. Perhaps you may even be inspired to create your own chapter of the Explorers Of Nature club! Rip the calendar page off - it's June!

Mary Byrne Kline

May Reflections: Slightly Bird-Brained

Growing up in North Dakota and Iowa should have caused me to be a much heartier person. It didn't.  Each winter I endured the blizzards and ice storms while counting the days until once again a crocus or daffodil would peak through and announce that color was returning to my world.  Oh, what joy when the first robin was spotted!  When at last the sweet chirping of birds could be heard, I knew that warmth was returning as well.

There was, however, an unfortunate downside to my fondness for the returning bird population.  My mother was concerned that should there not be sufficient seeds, worms, etc. available upon their immediate return, I should begin taking out all leftover bread after supper each evening. This should be torn up into teensy little bits and distributed around the yard, particularly under the trees. We had trees everywhere! At first I didn't mind.  Then after about two days my teensy bits became "bits", then "chunks", and soon I just tore the pieces of bread in half, figuring those old birds could figure it out for themselves.

My next chore was to clean out the birdbath. This not only meant making sure that the water in it didn't get a layer of ice so the birdies couldn't bathe (heaven forbid we have dirty birdies!), but I was to keep the basin and water clean. Hauling water in my little bucket took a lot of time. If you've ever had a birdbath you know how gross cleaning one can be, if not, just don't ask.

The Byrne Family Home

Earlier I mentioned something about not being hearty. That also involves a real distaste for any type of bug or creepy crawly. Therefore,  my last spring bird job caused me a great deal of anxiety.  I was to  "till" a small area in our garden since the ground was still quite hard from being frozen all winter. This was to allow the birds to peck more easily for worms. You can't imagine my delight at unearthing one while digging! Yet even though I may have done my chores slightly bird-brained, our yard always abounded with birds of every color and species. For this I am eternally grateful!

How thankful I am to now be living in a year-round warm climate.  I don't tear up bread, don't own a birdbath and will never dig for worms! But I still love listening to sweet chirping, watching nests be built and catching a glimpse of a cardinal with its mate on our back fence. This month we will be sharing interesting and delightful books about birds...birds with fears, facts about birds, birdhouses and birds that teach us a wonderful lesson.  Come to think of it, I learned some pretty good lessons and facts about birds myself while doing those chores.  I sure am glad we had a big yard with so many trees!

Mary Byrne Kline

April Reflections: Grateful or Grouchy?

Being raised by a father who had served in the Army and a mom of five siblings, my sisters and I were not allowed to whine about hand-me-down clothes, chores around the house, left-overs for supper or squeezing the last drop of toothpaste out of the tube.  We were taught to be grateful for having any and all of these.  From my earliest childhood, "Please" and "Thank-you" were expected to be heard from us - frequently.  We also laughed every day, often over the silliest things.  One morning at breakfast we had only a tiny bit of 3 different cereals left, not enough for a whole bowl from any one. I was grouchy. Daddy said to just be grateful and dumped them altogether!  "Cheeriflakes" were invented and became a favorite cereal for us.

Chores became opportunities for races to see who could finish first. Squealing with laughter at who was ahead sure worked better than grumbling about dishes, weeding, dusting or whatever it was that had been written on our Chore Charts. 

Now before you get the wrong idea let me just say I had my share of grouchy days. One of my favorite characters is someone all of you know quite well. His name is Oscar and he's known for being a well, you know...

                 "Always start the day with a smile - that way you get it over with."
                                                     Oscar the Grouch

 A few years ago I was fortunate to meet Caroll Spinney, and visit with both him and Oscar.  They were the perfect pair of "Grateful-Grouchy".  The more Oscar grumbled about having to share with a room full of adoring fans, the sweeter and more enjoyable Mr. Spinney became. I remember him saying Oscar always tells the truth and that although at times he can be rude, Oscar truly does have a heart of gold.

May I, in my truthfulness, remember that those around me need to be shown a bit more gratitude, to always start the day with a smile! (thanks, Oscar),  and that "Cheeriflakes" can be found in places other than cereal bowls. 

Mary Byrne Kline

                   Happy Thought

               The world is so full
                  of a number of things,
               I'm sure we should all
                  be as happy as kings.

              Robert Louis Stevenson

The Fireflies' Theme for April?  Being Grateful.    You won't want to miss a single post.  We will be sharing some great books, ideas, and family activities - all about training our children to be grateful and to express gratitude.  Don't forget to share the Fireflies' Blog with your friends.


March Reflections: What's In the Box?

Keeping myself entertained as a child was easy. I required only one of three things: a doll, a book, or a box.  The size or shape of the box didn't really matter. Whether it be a shoe box, a packing box my parents had received a package in, a shoe box, Kleenex box, or joy of joys - a large box someone had discarded after buying an appliance! - I was delighted to take it and turn it into something magical and wonderful to treasure until the next box came along.

Each spring in preparation for Easter, my sisters and I, as well as our neighborhood friends, would plan a wagon-tricycle-bicycle parade. This meant putting streamers, flowers, ribbons and anything else we could talk our moms out of to decorate our "wheels" for the parade. For me it meant decorating boxes for my dolls to sit in while I pulled them proudly in my scratched up little red wagon. I needed one rather large box for Betsy Lee, my biggest and dearest doll. I can still see how amazing she looked in the brightly crayon colored box with ribbons glued to it. Next came my pink elephant, who sat in a shoe box. Mom had given me pieces of red felt to line the inside of the box. I tried to get our chihuahua to sit in the wagon, but no luck, so I had to put my best Doris Day paper doll in her fanciest dress in a small oatmeal box. She could just peek out the top without blowing over. What a parade! The neighborhood came alive with all of us kids prancing, shouting and laughing!  Betsy Lee slept in her box bed for many weeks after that.

"Oh, Mary, come quick!" my younger sister shouted a spring morning soon after. Following her outside, I saw what had her so upset. A tiny hairless baby bird had fallen from its nest and was lying on the ground.  Mama helped us feed it with an eyedropper, but prepared us for the inevitable outcome. Sure enough, our little birdie couldn't survive - even with our tender care.  My sisters and I knew what we had to do - plan a funeral and invite our friends. But first...a box. I got to work. Only the best would do. I got a long Kleenex box, emptied out the tissues, colored flowers on the inside, and lined it with cotton. After tenderly laying the little bird inside, we put saran wrap over the opening of the box. What a service!  The neighborhood came alive with all of us kids singing, shouting and praying!

Goodness! I could go on and on. I could tell you about the time my own children made a pirate fort in a refrigerator box and played for hours with their grandpa, until he went missing. Finally one of our little boys saw "Tampa's" feet sticking out of the "pirate ship"! (Grandpa had fallen asleep!) But that's another story...

Mary Byrne Kline

Fireflies' theme this month is a cardboard box.  Don't miss a single post as our Fireflies' team share book reviews, recipes, crafts, an art masterpiece, a visual art exercise, poems, and music - all centered around the cardboard box!   

I'd LOVE to hear a story about your childhood experiences with a cardboard box. Please share [comment below] for a chance to win one of our March Fireflies' CLIP books.

Reflections: He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

Picking Daisies
Sylvia Cook Photography

I shudder to think at how many lovely daisies met their doom as I plucked their petals saying, "He loves me, he loves me not..."  After all, it surely was the foolproof way of finding out if each and every boyhood crush was "the one!"  Just to make sure, I also sat in the grass searching for four-leaf clovers for good luck in love, but they were far too difficult to find.  Perhaps wishing on the first star of evening would be my secret for finding true love. "Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight." Yet how could I be certain my "knight in shining armor" was looking up at the same bright stars that very night I was?  

The heart is a funny thing.  

It isn't affected by daisies or four-leaf clovers or stars.

Then one day I realized that something strange had happened to my heart. It had stretched - it didn't totally belong to me anymore. Somehow it had become a part of another person and that person meant more to me than anyone else ever had.  And the stretching has never stopped.  When I held our first son I thought my heart would burst, but it just stretched with love.  Could it ever hold more?  Goodness, yes! It has stretched to hold enough for three more incredible sons, wonderful daughters-in-law, six amazing grandchildren, precious family and friends... There have also been times of heartbreak and loss, when my heart felt shriveled to the point of breaking.  Times when there weren't enough stars in the sky to wish on to make the hurt go away.

The heart is a magnificent thing.  Deep love for one another strengthens us.

Well, my "knight in shining armor" still means more to me than anyone else ever has. On occasion he does fall asleep in his recliner while "watching TV" before the first bright star of evening makes its appearance. However, about a week ago he walked into the kitchen with a bouquet of flowers from the grocery store in his hands and said, "I saw these and thought you'd like them."  Indeed I did, for scattered throughout the arrangement were daisies. I didn't even have to pluck their petals - I know "he loves me!"

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This month's Fireflies theme?  HEARTS!  We hope you will join Fireflies as we share books and activities on the HEART and so much more.

Reflections: New Steps

Mitch & Mariah Santala - a daddy & daughter taking a snow walk.
Christmas 2012

"Wake up, Daddy. It's snowing!" I gently shook his shoulder to awaken him. "Oh, wow! Yes, I'll be ready in a minute." Mom opened one eye from her side on their bed, mumbled something like, "You two are crazy," and rolled over. I went downstairs, bundled up in my warmest jacket, scarf, wooly mittens, earmuffs, boots and waited for my dad. In just minutes he too was bundled up, wearing his old worn, leather snow cap with the woolen pull-down ear flaps. Now you might think I was a child. Well, no, even though dad and I had been doing this since I'd been a child. This particular night I was home for Christmas vacation from college and when I couldn't sleep and awoke to see it snowing - all my memories came rushing back. 

As silently as possible, we slipped out the front door, down the steps and stood gazing up as the large flakes fell noiselessly upon us. The moon made them shimmer as they fell. With my mittened hand in my dad's big gloved hand, we walked slowly, our footprints crunching in the snow as we went.  There was nothing extraordinary about our little ritual - just a moonlit, snowy walk shared by a dad and daughter. And yet to me it was magical.  As a child, our walks had been down the block and back, and we'd talked of what I'd be when I grew up. Tonight I needed reassuring that the decisions I was making and the direction I'd chosen for my life were right for me.  I asked my dad how I could know.

Many blocks later we arrived at our destination - a lovely park, silent and undisturbed except for the snowflakes cascading all around us. Daddy turned to me and said, "Tell me what you see and feel right now." I couldn't help smiling as I shared that I felt the warmth of him standing next to me, sheltering me in the wind, that I felt his strong hand holding mine, and as I looked around could see the steps we had made as we'd kicked and tromped through the snow, while in front of us the path was pristine and untouched.  Then he turned and said, "Honey, this is a lot like life. Those of us who love you can't always be next to you sheltering you and holding your hand, but you will always feel us in your heart.  Look behind you and you'll see the steps we've taken with you. But you must go ahead into the unknown future that God has prepared you for on your own." And with that he picked up some snow and we had ourselves a "doosy" of a battle!

Daddy's hat.

May all of us in this New Year take the steps necessary to guide our children towards the goals and decisions that will one day shape their futures.  At Fireflies, it is our goal to inspire you as young families and teachers to create lifelong memories.  Perhaps that may look like a walk in the snow with your child while wearing an old worn hat, perhps sharing a story or two that we recommend this month, maybe our "S is for Snow" puppet show, or making our kid-friendly recipe.  Who knows? It may only be a "walk" to you, but for your child it may be a magical memory that will last forever.

Mary Byrne Kline

Reflections: What's In A Name?

His little eyes were filled with longing and love. Mine were filled with dismay.  How could my five year old son desire such a delapidated looking gift for Christmas?  The stuffed horse was larger than all the other stuffed animals in the big bin, his light brown head sticking out above the others.  I tugged him out for a better look and realized that his legs, probably somewhat crushed from being piled in with all the other animals, were bent and therefore didn't allow him to stand up. The poor horse just crumpled down on the floor.  Jordan, however, was not to be deterred.  Kneeling, he wrapped his little arms around the horse's neck and clung to him.  "Sweetie, he's kind of broken," I said.  "Oh no, mommy, he's beautiful."  The delight in Jordan's eyes Christmas morning when his wish appeared under the tree was worth the teasing I had received from his three older brothers for buying the "crumpled horse".

What's In A Name?

"What are you going to name him, Jord?" the brothers asked.  Without hesitation, Jordan held his horse tightly against his little body and smiled.  "His name is Horse-y Friend-y".  Even the howling laughter didn't diminish the joy and love between boy and horse.  Now, many years later, the name "Horse-y Friend-y" is a favorite around our house. Actually, about every horse any of us sees we naturally call by that now rather beloved name.  Why? Because a young child loved a delapidated, crumpled horse...saw in it something beloved, cherished and befriended.  "Horse-y Friend-y" still resides in Jordan's bedroom closet, even though he is many miles away at college.   

Our seven year old granddaughter, Rachel, has a much-loved stuffed animal she's had since she was born. It's a small (and very faded) purple pony she calls "Po-Po". Recently, her parents found an exact replica online and ordered it, hoping she'd replace the old one. Ha! Not a chance! Rachel has too much love invested in "Po-Po", but she is okay with a new one as well. Its name? "Brand New"!  All of the teasing she's received has not changed her mind.  Why? Because "Po-Po" and "Brand New" are more than stuffed animals. They represent comfort, security and to her they are beloved friends.

What's in a name? This month we are featuring a Christmas book whose main character is a grumpy camel - perhaps with good reason.  Dissatisfied with his name, believing it should be much more beloved is only part of the problem, but...well, you'll just have to wait until the review is posted to find out just who has the most beloved name ever given...

PS  "C is for Christmas" will be posted at 7 am tomorrow morning, December 4th!  Don't miss this opportunity to create an incredible evening of memories with your children.

Mary Byrne Kline

 
  

Reflections: Remember When

The Relatives Came
by Cynthia Rylant

There's something about Thanksgiving that turns my thoughts back in time. I loved when everyone came to our house.  Relatives descended from every direction: North Dakota, Missouri, Illinois, Minnesota... cars were parked in our alley and all over the back yard. Mom's kitchen became a flurry of activity with her and all the aunties baking and shooing us kids out of the way. But we knew which aunt would give tastes and samples. Oh! The joy of playing with cousins we hadn't seen in "forever"!  After a day of tag, bike riding, tree climbing, hide and seek, we still were able to whisper and giggle in sleeping bags downstairs long after we'd been told to "quiet down and get to sleep"! How could we sleep when our cousins wanted to hear about how we'd found a nest of robins in our treehouse or we needed to know how all their horses were doing on their farm?  Our shared stories lasted long into the night.

One of my dearest memories came when I was allowed to help mom and my dear aunties in the kitchen. With an apron tied around my chest, standing on a chair, wooden spoon in hand, I was given the task of stirring the pudding mixture for the chocolate pie.  As I did so, I glanced around the kitchen and even at my young age realized that much more was happening than cooking. Why, my mama and my aunties were doing just what we kids did-they were sharing stories! They were laughing, reminiscing about past experiences, some of them from years ago. Almost every sentence began with "Remember when..."  

Before we ate Thanksgiving dinner, we all bowed our heads for prayer. As we shared our wonderful meal (except for the giblets in the gravy!), the phrase "Remember when" was again heard over and over. We kids learned about the Thanksgivings our parents had spent apart during WWII, about their childhood Thanksgivings of having to catch wild turkeys, then pick all the feathers off and prepare it for dinner. As a little boy my dad had been chased around the farmyard by an angry turkey - that made us all laugh! After much story telling, the pies were served and I knew my daddy would choose the chocolate -partly because it was his favorite and partly because I  had stirred it.

To this day, Thanksgiving is not only a day of feasting and giving thanks, but for drawing close... making memories...telling stories! Don't lose the heritage of what has made your family what it is. ALL the "remember whens" that belong to your family need to be spoken and passed down.  Because, you see, for me no parents are left and only two of my aunts remain. And one of them has little memory anymore. So I shall gently be telling her stories of her past in the hope that perhaps she'll "remember when" she gave me sneak tastes in the kitchen.  Hmm, I don't think my family knows about grandpa being chased by the turkey. 

I think it's time to get the grandkids in their aprons and find my chocolate pie recipe...

Mary Byrne Kline

Don't miss our FIREFLIES PRESENTS.... site!

October Reflections - Fall Beauty!

Growing up, my sisters and I were always singing songs about something. One of our favorites was what we called, "The Johnny Appleseed Song", and part of it went like this:
                    
                       Oh, the Lord is good to me
                       And so I thank the Lord,
                       For giving me, the things I need:
                       The sun and rain and the apple seed,
                       The Lord is good to me.

This month I'll be reviewing an entertaining book about Johnny. You won't want to miss reading about his unusual and incredible life.

But, back to that song we used to sing. I'm filled with nostalgia as I reflect on giving thanks for such things as "the sun and rain and the apple seed." Look around you and gaze at what this month has blessed us with: the brilliance of autumn leaves in an array of colors we can hardly begin to appreciate, the sound of biting into a perfectly ripe, crisp apple, seeing fields of oddly shaped orange pumpkins just waiting for our imaginative carvings, admiring lovely golden-rods shimmering in the afternoon sun,  laughing at decorative scarecrows blinking at us with crooked smiles and floppy hats, pausing for just a moment in the coolness of a foggy, quiet morning.  To enjoy any of these gifts of nature costs no  more than your time. Slowing down from the hectic pace of our lives long enough to look - really look - and see the beauty of what autumn brings is well worth it. Take a moonlight walk, go sit out on that lawn chair, hold hands with your child and collect some colorful fall leaves. Time won't stand still.

If I close my eyes I can still see my grandmother, standing beside her artwork the evening she entered several of her oil paintings in a gallery show. I was only in first or second grade, but I'll never forget the look of pride on her face. This was over 50 years ago; she was the only woman showing work.  She took my hand, walked me around the gallery, and told me how good the Lord was and that I could find beauty everywhere I looked.  But it was her painting, her golden-rod, that was my favorite. It now hangs prominently in our home and is a reminder to find beauty in the simple things that may be so easily overlooked.

"Golden-rod" oil painting by my grandmother,
Maude Rhodes ByrneThe golden-rod is yellow;

The corn is turning brown;
The trees in apple orchards
With fruit are bending down.
By all these lovely tokens
September (and October) days are here,
With summer's best of weather,
And autumn's best of cheer.

Helen Hunt Jackson

This month our book reviews will be such a delightful variety of October topics!  What could be better than delicious apples and colorful leaves and fascinating scarecrows?

Mary Byrne Kline

September Reflections: I Love Books!

I love books! What a delight it is to find an unfamiliar bookstore and have the time to browse for awhile.  On several occasions I've been fortunate to come across a treasured book from my childhood or one that just "speaks to me" as only a book-lover can understand.  My earliest recollection of enjoying books was as a  pre-schooler, in my pj's with my sisters, sitting on our bed while mama read from Uncle Arthur's Bedtime Stories or Famous Fairy Tales.  With visions of "The Elves and the Shoemaker" or "Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves" in our minds, my sisters and I always had plenty to whisper about after the lights were turned off. 

In third grade I was given the greatest gift - my own library card.  While my friends asked for tassels on their bike's handlebars, I only wanted a basket so I could carry books. I thought the librarian had the best job in the world - being able to flip through all the cards, stamping due dates on every one's books, reading when no one was at her desk... I envied her life more than I could say.  At home I read to anyone who would listen; this usually being a combination of my stuffed animals and dolls.  When my sisters complained that I was making too much noise, I climbed up into the tree house, put down blankets and pillows, got a few snacks and spent the afternoon.

Do you want to make a hum-drum afternoon more exciting? Head to the library! Tired of bedtime being a battle of the wills? Start a little earlier, curl up with one of the fascinating finds you checked out at the library and curl up on your child's bed with him/her.  Tucking them in is far easier when they've listened to "Once upon a time in a land far away...".

This month we're reviewing books about books! And libraries! What happens when a bookmobile goes to the zoo? And have you ever wondered what all those books in the library feel like that don't get checked out? Get your library card and before you know it, you'll be reading "happily ever after"!

Mary Byrne Kline

August Reflections: Crayons, Chalk, & Glue

Is there any better gift to a little girl who is playing school than to receive a box of 64 crayons, colored chalk, a pad of construction paper and a bottle of glue that isn't clogged up?  Top it off with a trip to the library to "stock up her classroom" with books, and I'd say she's just about in teacher heaven.  I'm blessed to say these occurences were rather common for me growing up.  

Once I began teaching, I must confess that it was still exciting to open the boxes of all the new packages of crayons, chalk, paper, glue and oh! so many lovely colors of paint! Unpacking boxes of new books was almost more than I could handle!

And then I took a trip that changed my life...


While my husband was working for World Vision, I was privileged to travel to Uganda, Tanzania and Kenya. During our time there we were fortunate to visit a few schools. Not having any idea what to expect, I was somewhat shocked to find buildings without windows, dirt floors, wooden benches, few tables, and limited books and supplies of any kind. Students of varied ages were  often working together, older children guiding younger ones, some sharing texts, but all were actively involved in structured learning. There was not a discipline problem to be seen anywhere. Each child and student knew what was expected of them and they were doing it. Smiles and sharing were everywhere. 


Lessons were being written on scraps of paper. Pictures were being drawn and colored on sacks. No one seemed bothered. We motioned to the teacher, asking if we could hand out the colored pencils and construction paper we had brought. She readily agreed.  It was hard for me to choke back tears to see the eyes widen and the laughter spread when these dear children accepted our meager gifts with such joy. They began to sing, bow and clap.  I was overcome with an emotion of gratitude I couldn't explain. I knew God wasn't wanting me to feel guilty for all I've been given, but to be truly grateful. And at that moment I knew what that felt like.
 
Continuing our Olympic theme this month, we will share about some Olympians that overcame great obstacles in order to compete and reach their goals. I believe that many of the children I met in Africa will do great things because of their ability to rise above their circumstances.  Let us not feel guilty, but be grateful for each and every gift we have been given, for every goal we have reached and for every attempt that we have made. For it is only when we have not tried that we have failed.

During the remainder of this month we will be sharing some not-so-typical books about school.  You'll see an African school up close, find out why Cal is "not the readin' type", and have fun finding letters and numbers in some very strange places.  Happy August!

Mary Byrne Kline  

Fireflies Co-Founder

Director of Reading Instruction

July Reflections: Happy Birthday, Miss Liberty

Recollections of my preschool birthdays still bring me joyous smiles. Being born on July 3rd was certainly not without festivity. Flags, parades, decorations, picnics - all of this seemed like quite a big "to-do" just for "my" birthday. Once again Mom had made my traditional 2-layer pink, white and blue checkerboard cake (being frugal meant not using too much red food coloring). "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" was written in crooked red icing and little flags were all around the edge.


My sisters and I could hardly wait until it got dark after supper, because we knew what was coming - sparklers! We always got sparklers on my birthday! Around and around the
yard we would run, squealing with delight, writing our names in the air.  Box after box of sparklers were discarded, until we carefully lit our final one and danced in circles, bowing and twirling until the last little flicker went out.  "Remember," daddy said, "there'll  be bigger fireworks tomorrow."  Wow! Were my birthdays ever special!  But soon after I started school, I came to realize that "my" birthday fireworks were not for me at all, but for a famous lady. Someone named Lady Liberty. Who was she? Why was she so special?  

Through the years my pride in America grew as my knowledge of our great country deepened.  I loved being called a "firecracker baby" and until I married and left home, always insisted on having  a pink, white and blue checkerboard birthday cake with flags. And yet something was missing; I had a longing to meet this lady with whom I'd shared such fond memories. Then it finally happened. On my first trip to New York City, just 10 years ago, as my plane was flying over Ellis Island, the clouds parted and there she was. As I stared down at the loveliest lady in American history, I could only imagine how many hundreds of thousands of eyes had gazed upon her with hope for a new life. Her golden torch gleamed in the sunlight, with flames that do not destroy, but enlighten the future of thousands. I felt 
tears running down my cheeks.  "Oh, Miss Liberty, you deserve ALL the fireworks and even the sparklers!" I whispered.

This month we will be sharing books about the Statue of Liberty, flags and other symbols of our country.  It's never too early to instill pride in America. 

Mary Byrne Kline

June Reflections: PLAY BALL!

I am convinced that God has a sense of humor. 


My dad was a college hockey player, an avid baseball player, an eagle scout and an army veteran. He fathered 3 girls.  Being the "girliest" sister, I loved shoes, jewelry and shopping. You can imagine my shock and uncertainty at what to do when my husband and I were blessed with 4 boys!! But in God's perfect wisdom, my dad did a pretty awesome job of teaching my sisters and me to play hockey, pitch a tent and hit a baseball.  I, however, failed miserably at getting my sons to enjoy shopping. But, back to baseball...


It's been said that patience is a virtue. In that case, my dad was a very virtuous man. Summer evenings after supper we would head out to the back yard for some batting practice and games of catch, (always hoping a neighborhood boy would come over to give us some credibility). The clothesline pole was home plate, the old oak tree was 1st base, the bird bath 2nd base, the cracked sidewalk square 3rd. Daddy was pitcher. My shins were black and blue most of the summer from being hit by baseballs. I loved my daddy -
I did not love baseball.

My dad's glove and ball.

Years later our sons played on baseball teams and were not only avid players, but aggressive card collectors. I was amazed at the hours they could spend trading, bargaining, and working out deals in order to complete sets. While working in the garage recently I came across an old trunk. My breath caught as I gazed inside and saw my dad's old baseball mitt and the softball that we used to throw in the backyard. As I held them, memories of those warm summer evenings so long ago flooded over me. I thought of the movie "Field of Dreams" and how Kevin Costner "longs for another catch with his dad". I realized that I was smiling, crying, and wishing that I could play some baseball again. Could it be I really loved that game?! 

During the month of June we're focusing on America's greatest pasttime - baseball

Make time to play ball with your children.   Find a baseball game to attend - whether it's a little league game or a major league game!  There's just something about sitting in the stands of a ballpark with some peanuts, cheering for the home team, the 7th inning stretch, and singing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame"! 




We're featuring several outstanding books about baseball this month. We guarantee you'll laugh, but grab some tissues as you may also shed a tear or two.

Mary Byrne Kline

May Reflections: "Mother, may I?" "Yes, you may."

That spring Saturday all the kids in the neighborhood had been playing in our yard; climbing up in our tree fort, swinging in our old tire swing, building roads in our sandbox. After a while we organized a game of "Mother, may I?", but the older kids only said "Yes, you may" to each other, so that didn't last long. When it got close to lunch time, everyone wandered home and my younger sister and I were left alone - and bored.  We moped into the kitchen where mom was getting ready to make lunch. An idea struck! "Mom, will you play a game with us?" Her face did not show great anticipation, but she agreed. "Mother, may we make lunch?" Now we knew it would take longer for her to let us put sandwiches together, but she said, "Yes, you may." A few minutes later we'd finished our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. "Mother, may we eat outdoors?" A small smirk from mom was followed by, "Yes, you may." 

After lunch we wandered to the front porch, noticing how weathered the porch swing looked. Back to mom we went. "Mother, may we paint the front porch swing?" "Oh, girls," she started, then saw our faces. Very slowly the words came out. "Yes...you may." Squealing with delight, Barb and I dashed to the garage for paint, but couldn't decide between all the array of leftover colors daddy had stored there. SO, we wheeled all of them in our wagon to the front porch and proceeded to paint. Each slat would receive a different color! It would be our rainbow swing!


An hour later we had nearly completed our handiwork. The swing was radiant in the afternoon sunlight - reds, blues, yellows, a strange shade of orange, several odd greens, something resembling purple and even brown. And then mom came out to see our progress. There aren't words to describe my dear mother's expression as she sucked in her breath and stood motionless for several seconds. Afraid we had disappointed her we began to apologize, but she stopped us. "Well, no one else will have a swing like ours, now will they? And I was wondering. May I be the first to swing on it when the paint is dry?"  My sister and I said together, "Yes,  you may!"

As parents it's often easy to say "no" to things that could be answered with a "yes". Perhaps if we said "yes" a little more often, our children would accept the "no's" when we really need to say them.


May FirefliesDuring the month of May we are focusing on colors and butterflies. Almost anywhere you look you can see buds sprouting with color, flowers bursting open, butterflies flitting about, even the grass is greener! Enjoy our bright assortment of Fireflies' offerings this month! 


Also, we will be launching "Fireflies Presents" - creating a family evening of new memories.   We sincerely appreciate your sharing Fireflies with your friends by "sharing" our posts on FB and "repinning" them on Pinterest.   We don't take that support for granted.  Blessings as you create legacy memories through literature with your children.  Thanks again.

April Reflections: Fun Through Failure

Upon completing first grade, I felt as if I'd learned just about everything there was to know; so with an entire summer stretching before me, I needed a challenge. My best friend, Maria, was the person to help me come up with a plan. We sat on the sidewalk, sucking on sunflower seeds, seeing who could spit shells the farthest, trying to decide what to do. That's when the brainstorm hit us. Why not grow our own sunflowers and make our own sunflower seeds? We could have enough to last us all summer and maybe even sell some to make money! Why, we were so excited we could hardly wait to tell our parents. However, selling them on the idea wasn't so easy. First, my parents said it wouldn't work, we didn't know how to do it, where would we plant them and on and on.  Secondly, Maria lived with her grandparents who spoke almost no English and she couldn't even get them to understand what a sunflower was. Finally, we got my parents to give us money for the seeds probably because we wouldn't stop begging. We chose to dig and plant them in Maria's yard since her grandparents didn't have any idea what we were doing anyway.  The plan was in motion: weeding, watering, even building a little fence around our precious sunflower seeds. Then we waited...and  waited...watered...waited...watered...waited...YES! At last, oh my, did those seeds ever grow, and grow, AND GROW! It wasn't long before they were way over our heads, then higher than we could believe! Huge big sunflowers began to bloom out and then tiny seeds appeared in the face of the sunflower! 

Maria and I danced around our sunflowers, screaming and laughing!  We could just taste those delicious, salty seeds in our minds.  Every day we'd crane our little necks to try and see how big the seeds looked, until our patience gave out and we decided to chop down the sunflowers. We got hammers and began pounding until my daddy came to our rescue and cut them down. It took Maria and I most of the day to hand pick the seeds out of the sunflowers. The next morning would be the test of all our hard work.  Mom boiled a pot of water for us and we dumped in the greater part of a box of salt, then added our seeds. We left them for a few minutes, then drained them and let them cool. Now the moment had come - we each put a seed in our mouth, ready for that incredible sensation - and spit all right! Yuck! It was awful! We looked at each other, just about ready to cry, but instead, we both began to laugh! For seven year olds, this had been a mighty fine adventure!


This month we are excited to share books about gardens and seeds and spring. We hope you will be inspired to plant something with your child(ren).  The anticipation of seeing seeds sprout never gets old and you can plant in something as small as a can or go crazy in your backyard!  Hopefully you'll have better luck than Maria and I did with our sunflowers! But even that is memory that brings a smile and a longing to munch on some sunflower seeds.

March Reflections: Facing Fears

A local plant nursery has a butterfly garden. Thinking our 3 year old grandson would delight in this experience, I talked to him about it and away we went. Judah's delight lasted about four seconds, until several butterflies flitted within inches of his head. This normally "look out world!" child became rigid, clung to me and began crying to go home. Just as the words, "There's nothing to be afraid of" came to mind, I stopped myself.  All of a sudden I was the child, facing a spider with a fly swatter, hearing my dad say those words. I knelt down. "Judah, let's find just one little butterfly all by itself, ok?" I stayed crouched down at his level and we crept around until he saw one small "barfly" barely moving on a leaf. For several minutes we watched just that one tiny creature. I asked him to tell me how he would explain to his mommy what it looked like when he got home. He relaxed and talked until it darted off.  With trepidation, Judah still clinging to my hand, he took a small step and spotted another "barfly". Though still not completely confident, his moment of terror had passed. In celebration, we bought a "barfly" cookie cutter at the gift shop before heading home.


This month I want to talk about fear. Growing up with two sisters, I was the "girly-girl" - afraid of spiders, the dark, big dogs, worms, monsters, thunder, camping... The words, "There's nothing to be afraid of", and "That little thing is more afraid of you than you are of it", still ring in my memory. So when God (who must have a sense of humor!) gave me and my husband 4 sons, I learned to mask my fears with a brave face - except for spiders! But I found out even little boys have fears, and those fears are very real. Instead of uttering in exasperation, "There's nothing to be afraid of", let's help our children understand how to face their fears. By providing them with coping skills, they can attempt to conquer difficulties throughout their lives. In Steven Kellogg's book, The Island of the Skog, a band of mice face an unknown fear, which gets out of control.  They had to learn to talk to each other, to trust each other. Sounds pretty simple, but I think that sometimes the simplest solution is often the best.

Mary Byrne Kline

Talking with those we love and trust about our fears often brings healing, relief and peace. In the next few weeks, you'll be reading book reviews about three of my childhood fears; a monster, the dark and thunder. You may be surprised at how to overcome them - all you need (besides our books), are a kite, an umbrella and a cake! Happy reading! And don't forget to enjoy the beautiful "barflys" along the way...




[Additional Fireflies March themes - Kites & the Wind]

Two Tough Words

How strange - right behind the grouping of family pictures in the front room was a wadded pile of shiny candy kiss wrappers. I tossed them out without much thought. Later, while bending to pick something up, I noticed a similar silver slew of wrappers under the sofa.  Hm-m-m, what was going on? After finding a third metallic mess semi-hidden behind a lamp, I began to mentally put the pieces together. My festive bowl of candy kisses had been full before our grandkids had visited on Sunday. Now it held but two. I casually mentioned it to our daughter-in-law, who, after being mortified, had to agree with me that for being only 5 and 3, the boys had been quite ingenious in their hiding technique. 


That evening her confrontation was met with swift denials. "We didn't eat the candy!" " We didn't hide any wrappers!"  Kriss wisely knew that a forced apology wouldn't be worth much. Her patience was rewarded, for soon after tucking in the candy culprits, they came tiptoeing down the hall, pouring out their hearts. "Oh, Mama, we sneaked Button's (aka me-grandma) candy. I'm sorry!" "I'm sorry, too!" What sweet relief once they'd spoken those two tough words.  However, there was still one more apology to be made... 


Rather than my back door being opened with a bang and a shout of "Hi, Button, we're here!", two mute, wide-eyed, close to tears little boys came shuffling into my kitchen.  One look at them and I almost teared up! "How would you boys like to listen to a story?"  Their eyes lit up, we piled onto the sofa and Tumford the Terrible by Nancy Tillman opened up a time of healing and laughter.  Once my dear little ones heard how Tumford the cat overcame his difficulty in saying "I'm sorry", they understood how important those two tough words are - both to say and to hear.

February is the time for celebrating Presidents and love. This month we're excited about sharing some wonderful books on each of these themes. As I reflect on love, I can't help but think of how much deeper any relationship is once those involved have been able to say the all important words, "I'm sorry". Did you think I was going to say, "I love you"? Of course we want to hear that from our spouse and long for the day our children say it, but how  precious when we have situations in which those we love come to us and are able to sincerely say, "I'm sorry". Those are difficult words - none of us like to apologize. And yet when those words are spoken, perhaps that is when we feel the most loved. Trust is restored.  "And Tummy? Well, Tummy just sat back and purred at the wondrous effect of that one little word."

Mary Kline (aka "Button")

February Highlights

Don't miss upcoming posts as we share our favorite CLIP books along with all new print, verbal, and visual communications activities.  Original Fireflies music by Jenna Paulette, recipes, art appreciation posts, and opportunities to receive free books courtesy of SBACS will also be enjoyed by those following Fireflies in February.

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