< ![CDATA[   Schooling is never something we've tried to put in a box. Of course, when we're home, we have our designated time of day for book work, but that isn't when the best, or even most, of the learning happens. Ezra has been in a particularly vigorous period of brain development recently, and sometimes it gets downright funny: "Dad... is the moon a light in the sky?" (Before Dad can answer Gabe chimes in.) "No Ez. If I remember my science right, the moon is a big rock that is going around us slowly and the rock reflects the sun shining on it." "Good Gabe..." replies Dad, "So based on that, where is the sun now?" The big kids think about it and then point off toward the west. The sun has just set and we're eating our dinner by the glow of the red cemetery candle I purchased in Vienna after some drunk kids stole my other one. Ezra is looking off to the west, still a bit puzzled. "Hannah, go get me that last orange out of the canvas bag," I ask. The orange appears and I put down my fork. "Okay Ez, so the orange is the earth. The candle is the sun..." I proceed through the same trick that every fourth grade teacher uses to explain the rotation and orbit of the earth. Ez quickly figures out how day and night happen and how the whole package, moon and all, takes a whole year to orbit the sun. My food is getting cold. Daddy takes over to explain tilt and seasons. The big kids chatter on about the equator, what makes the tropics and why the Arctic is called "the land of the midnight sun." Ez munches his beef patty with a crinkled brow. "Dad. How does God hold that whole spinning thing when he's got to do something else with two hands?" The big kids giggle, Ez looks offended and Daddy dignifies his excellent question with a response that sends everyone into fits: "Easy Ez, he just takes the world like this, and sticks it up under his arm pit while he works!" I roll my eyes. Great, we've managed to fail science and theology all in one sentence. "When I say you're "full of bologny" does that mean you are REALLY full of sausage meat?" "NO. And I don't like it when you say that!" replies Ez with his usual surly response to anything other than his actual name. "It's a word picture that really means something else... that you're silly... it's the same with God having "the whole world in his hands." It doesn't mean he has hands that are literally holding the whole world. It just means he is in control of it all. He set it up to keep on going all by itself." "OH." It seems that this cleared up a whole bunch of things for Ezra. He keeps munching. The big kids are back on the topic of equatorial regions and deserts. "I wish I lived in the desert." Ez pipes up. "You do? Why would you want to live there, there's no water," I ask. "Because then God would walk right up and talk to me. He lives in the desert." Laughing, once again from the older siblings. Daddy and I exchange amused looks. "How do you know God lives in the desert?" I ask. "Don't you remember in the Bible? All those stories about how people are out in the desert and God just shows up and talks to them." He's right. "Well Ez... God doesn't exactly LIVE in the desert... he just visits there sometimes. It is a good place to talk to people." He does not look convinced. The plates are nearly empty. The moon is cloaked with a silvery glow from the humid air. Bath time has come for boys. As we clean up the dishes Tony rubs the top of Ezra's head hard, "You've got more than bologny for brains boy, that's for sure!" Ez ducks the rub and rolls his eyes... "Daaad... can I eat the orange now?" We all laugh and sing... "He's got the whole world, in his belly!" I prove myself the savior of the world by rolling the orange back into the tent... until breakfast.]]>