Making a Bible Story Game Board

Teacher Sharon Smith
shares a bible story with
 one of the children.

Each season at St. Matthew's, church school teacher Barb Wasiljew prepares an original craft session in keeping with the curriculum. I enjoy these craft days which remind me of the projects I participated in as a kid.

Last week, Barb taught the children to make their own bible story game boards, complete with dice and player pieces. The large variety of coloured stick-ons she prepared, allowed the children to be quite creative in their selection and configuration of their game board pathways.

Game Rules 

The goal of the game? To reach the donkey (that's the Palm Sunday connection) at the end of the pathway, by advancing a game piece, square by square.  

As a player lands on a fish, temple, water, star, or other biblical symbol, s(he) is required to recount a bible story relating to the image, in order to move ahead by two.

I am pleased to say that as Barb quizzed the kids on their knowledge of biblical stories related to the symbols, plenty of hands shot up.

I'm looking forward to the day that my new granddaughter is old enough for Sunday School. It can be great fun.

Connect with me on Twitter, Facebook, and LinkedIn.  Plus, sign up for free e-mail updates from this blog in the box at the right-hand side of this page.

Prepping for Palm Sunday

The donkeys are coming back to St. Matthew's! Yesterday, the children were excited to rehearse for next week's Palm Sunday celebration. I'll be honest; they were excited just to be outside, but we did rehearse. Here's the plan for next week:

The children will lead the procession out of the church and onto the driveway, where Reverend Derek will bless the palms. Our Hosanna path will be along the front of the church, from the east doors to the entrance on the West side, with the children handing out palm crosses to the congregation who will line each side of the driveway. We are praying for more good weather, as our rehearsal went very well today.

Following our trial run, the children selected their costumes (we have plenty of extras for anyone who wasn't there yesterday), and the Youth Group girls scooted off to the kitchen where they made cheese biscuits for their April open house.

Evidently, the aroma of fresh biscuits was too much for some members of the Outreach Committee who commandeered them for their fundraiser. Oh well, back to the floured cutting board.

I'm looking forward to seeing everyone next week for Palm Sunday—one of my favourite days of the year—but this year I’m especially excited about seeing the donkeys.

Connect with me on Twitter, Facebook, and LinkedIn.  Plus, sign up for free e-mail updates from this blog in the box at the right-hand side of this page.

A Mania for Cloth Bound Collectibles

Title page from Volume I of an Earl's Edition
of the works of Benjamin Disraeli  

When I was eight years old and the family hired movers to help us relocate, my father’s personal library was catalogued and found to number over 5,000 volumes. I inherited a portion of these in 1989, and donated some to Casa Loma, whose library shelves—believe it or not—were filled with wooden replicas. (I discovered this while mounting an exhibit of 20th century wedding gowns at the famous location.) I have carefully stored many of the remaining books, displaying and enjoying them by rotation. 

Recently, feeling the press of post-holiday excess and frightened by an episode of Hoarders, I attempted a purge of my 19^th century book collection, but instead, I ended up adding to my library of second, third, and special edition classics. As I reacquainted myself with these cloth-bound beauties—running my fingers through deckled, slightly yellowed pages, and lifting the occasional translucent sheet to gaze at hand-colored illustrations—I fell in love all over again. The marbled endpapers of one volume alone reawakened my passion for such literary treasures.

Alison Hoover Bartlett, author of The Man Who Loved Books Too Much, (a fabulous read) believes “the allure of any book is in large part sensual.” Indeed, the thingness of books has appealed to collectors long before digital technology threatened to make bound paper obsolete.In a dedicated search for first editions, collectors and bibliomaniacs often overlook later edition classics, but these are often the very books with the most decorative covers, as publishers were often more willing to cover the extra cost of decorative bindings once a particular title had become a sure thing. 

The purge will have to wait. I love books too much not to bring them along with me into my sixties. 

Connect with me on Twitter, Facebook, and LinkedIn.  Plus, sign up for free e-mail updates from this blog in the box at the right-hand side of this page.

A License to Pick Up Narcotics

I’ve seen my husband through a few surgeries over the past few years, the latest—last Wednesday—being the repair of an inguinal hernia. He’s suffering a slight complication today, which required a new prescription for pain killers.

When I dropped off the script for Tylenol #3's at the pharmacy, I was told that under new regulations I would require two pieces of photo ID in order to pick up the drugs, as they were deemed narcotics. Seems like a good policy; one that is simple enough to comply with, for people who possess the required documents.  

Today I used my passport, but as for fulfilling the second obligation by producing a plastic card that reveals both my photo and my current address, I came up short. It's not like I can show them one of my hard-cover books with the author's photo on the back (although I did try that at the border once).    

My health card is one of the early ones with no identifying photo—there’s that age thing again—so there is no picture of me (pink-haired, behatted or otherwise) to prove my identity. Just the iconic, Canadian, red and white markings and a bunch of numbers. It looks like I’ll have to get a driver’s license, if only for the credentials.

I know. I can hear you screaming, “You don’t have a license?” I do not. Any of you who have heard my husband recount my driving exploits, know why I gave the practice up. I admit to my shortcomings. I was a terrible, inattentive driver, continually thinking of hats or dreaming up fictional plots in my head, while entire legions of angels kept a lookout for my safety.

Once, in the 80’s, I was involved…Strike that, I caused an accident that prompted me to ask the constable, “How many cars did I hit?” She answered, “You only hit one, Dear, but you struck it twice.”  

Tomorrow I’ll bus it to the Motor Vehicle Bureau, or whatever they call it, and tell them I want to apply for a license to pick up narcotics. Do you suppose they’ll take my picture and hand me a card?  

Connect with me on Twitter, Facebook, and LinkedIn.  Plus, sign up for free e-mail updates from this blog in the box at the right-hand side of this page.

Happy Spring

Embossed Edwardian Post Card

I visited the office of a friend yesterday. On her desk was a bouquet of miniature irises she had taken from her mother's garden. Yes, spring has come that early here in Burlington. And isn't it grand.

I have never grown irises, but I was raised by one. My mother, Blanche Iris Jane Thomas Hillyer, went by her second name. She acquired it in an unusual fashion. My grandmother had chosen several names for her daughter, but none of them sat well with the rest of the family.

After numerous arguments, my grandmother settled the matter by calling for a newspaper. "The first female name I come across," she announced, "will become the name of this child." Lucky for Mom, someone named Iris was featured that day.

One of my favourite things to do with Mom in her latter years, was to go through her mother's souvenir postcard album. That's where I found this Edwardian post card (c.1909) with its lovely embossed image of a spring bouquet.

If there are no irises in your garden, I hope this image will help you think of spring.

Connect with me on Twitter, Facebook, and LinkedIn.  Plus, sign up for free e-mail updates from this blog in the box at the right-hand side of this page.