Good evening church family,
Lisa and I homeschool our three children. Every year we purchase a curriculum for each of them and the kids work their way through it from September to early June. All the traditional subjects are studied, with a course on the Bible added in. In our little one-room-schoolhouse, Lisa does the lion’s share of the educating; serving as both teacher and principal. But I help out some. I oversee the biblical instruction for all three and handle the language arts coursework for the two girls. Each night I grade the day’s work and then after breakfast the next morning, I sit with each of the kids individually and go over any corrections I happened to make the previous night. Before heading out the door, I also go over their lessons for the day and outline their homework and assignments. It’s a lot of fun for me and I truly enjoy it. When Bryn, Ingrid, and Brooks take their turns sitting next to me at my spot at the table, I delight in the precious time together. As they learn about the world, I get a chance to learn about each of them. I find that one is all business while another is all squirm. One takes each stroke of red ink personally while another only yawns. One dials it in when something is confusing and hard to understand while another fragments in despair. Some tolerate my classroom humor but, sadly, none laugh at it.
We just recently began a new unit in Ingrid’s language arts course and the introductory page explained that poetry would be the main focus of the lessons over the coming weeks. Upon learning this, Ingrid slumped back in her chair; letting her head hit the backrest. “Oh, no,” she groaned as sympathetic groans echoed from her schoolmates seated around the dining room table. From Bryn’s previous tangles with poetry, a prejudicial dislike for rhythm, meter, and verse has unfortunately corrupted our institution. Of course – truth be told – I’m probably not the most inspiring teacher on the subject. I’ve never had a fondness for poetry and have always preferred prose. You’ll never find me jumping up and standing on the table while giving an impassioned recitation of Thomas or Keats. But both of my parents tried to instill within me a love for poetry and much of God’s inspired Word is in verse and so I’ve tried hard to gain an appreciation.
Well, we’re a week-or-so into it now and it’s not going all that badly. One of Ingrid’s lessons last week had her studying the diamond or “diamante” style poem. For those not familiar with this type of poetry, a diamond poem consists of sixteen words written on the page in the shape of a diamond. A noun is written at the top and center of the sheet; serving as the subject of the poem. Under it – also centered – come two adjectives. Beneath them – again, everything centered – three verbs are spaced out. In the middle are four nouns and then, in descending order, come three more verbs, two more adjectives, and then a final noun – the finished composition appearing in the shape of a diamond; the sixteen words painting a picture of the subject at the top. Ingrid and I went over the style and talked through some of the examples that were given. She didn’t seem too frustrated with the lesson until we began going over the day’s assignments. When I noted that she’d be expected to write a diamond poem of her own, Ingrid’s little outboard motor hit a rocky ledge; bending her propellers.
“C’mon, Dad,” she said, burying her right palm into her right cheek. “You’re not going to make me write one of these are you?”
“Honey,” I reply shaking my head, frustrated by the bad rap poetry’s gotten in our school, “it says you can write it about anything you want. You can write it about your dance class, ice cream, or Dude Perfect (our kids love watching Dude Perfect videos for some reason) – anything you want.”
“Fine,” she replied with a punchy tone; gloomily resigned to her fate. “I’m going to write it about you!”
“Perfect,” I replied with a grin; getting a little grin in return. “But just remember, I’m going to be the one grading it.”
That night, after bedtime reading (The Sign of the Beaver for Brooks and Sense and Sensibility for the girls), Lisa and I poured a little iced coffee for ourselves and headed downstairs to let the day ebb away in conversation, television, and grading. I looked forward to reading Ingrid’s poem. She’s got a good sense of humor and I fully expected her to come after me. But what I read instead really blessed me. Here’s her poem:
John
pastor dad
mowing raking shoveling
loving kind annoying cooker
planning talking thinking
husband compassion
nice
Now, I might have fared a whole lot worse than that and, in fact, I might never fare much better! I read and reread Ingrid’s poem as I sipped iced coffee and listened to the pellet stove crackle and blow. I really reveled in it, to be honest. It proved an unexpected blessing to have my child attempt to capture me in sixteen words and to find that the nouns, adjectives and verbs she used were evidence of a love and respect she had for me. After going over it with Ingrid the next day, I secretly snuck the poem out of her notebook and tucked it into mine. It’s been sitting on my desk at the office ever since.
As I continued to reflect on the poem, the thought occurred to me that I ought to try and write one for the Lord. Maybe He’d enjoy it if one of His children tried to capture Him in sixteen words. And so, I did. Here’s what I came up with:
Him
quick keen
watching waiting willing
ears arms eyes voice
hoisting helping healing
knowing close
mine
I handed it in to my Father and I hope He’s tacked it up somewhere on the beaver board over His desk. I hope it blesses His heart to have an expression of how He’s blessed my heart over and over and over again. As you prepare for worship tonight and tomorrow – why not write a little diamond poem of your own. Take sixteen words to bless your Dad today. I think you’ll both be blessed by the homework!
We’re looking forward to gathering together in the morning to worship our God and King and to fellowship in our citizenship in the eternal Kingdom of our Lord! It stands to be a wonderful time in the Lord’s house. May the Lord, mighty God, bless and continue to keep us!
- Pastor Tate
