It is because all of the bushes are afire that I write. Because somehow we must figure out a way to live barefoot, awestruck, transfixed, before the light of Christ that plays in ten thousand places.
I am on my way to marking down 50,000 ways that He loves.
I am a homeschool graduate, educated using Charlotte Mason’s philosophy of education. She wrote:
The question is not, — how much does the youth know? when he has finished his education — but how much does he care? and about how many orders of things does he care? In fact, how large is the room in which he finds his feet set? and, therefore, how full is the life he has before him?
I proclaim it with G.K. Chesterton unabashedly:
Praised be God for all sides of life, for friends,
lovers, art, literature, knowledge, humor, politics,
and for the little red cloud
away there in the west.
I love Emily Dickinson, P.G. Wodehouse, C.S. Lewis, acrylic paints, acoustic guitar, Austrian economics, Amy Carmichael, educational theory, Gerard Manley Hopkins, Loreena McKennit, watercolor journaling, Neil Postman, political science, thunderstorms, history, calligraphy, Chesterton, Frederic Bastiat, the wonder of green things, and children. My feet are set in a very great room indeed – a palace, in fact. On a dancing floor. They are unshod.