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Life, Light & Littmus Lozenges

This semester, my 3rd and 4th grade students read 'Because of Winn-Dixie'

Well, I read aloud and they listened... because listening is an important skill and stories are vital. 



We have since moved onto 'The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane', because having one's heart smashed to pieces then put back together is also very important. 




The miracle of Edward and his learning to love will certainly reflect here.   

But it was as we were falling in love with that scruffy ol' Winn-Dixie dog, we came up with the idea to make our own Littmus Lozenges.  



And so.  




We started with Strawberry and Root Beer candies per the book's description, then each student wrote down a memory to add. 




I didn't know I could love these kids any more... but now that they've told me about the time their trampoline blew across the yard during a scary storm, landing comically on their grandma's car, or that their baby sister died and to think of her still make them sad...
 






... my heart. beats. fiercely.  for them. 








What an honor to be entrusted. 

They chose hard candies that represented their memory and related emotions. There were flavors in blue and purple for sadness and bruises; happiness in citrusy oranges and yellow. Cinnamon and Butterscotch for fire and warmth. 

 I let the students do their own defining. 








 Strawberry, RootBeer, Cinnamon, Butterscotch, Assorted Jolly Ranchers

The cards and candies went home with me while the students waited... and waited... and waited. 






I told them periodically how challenging it was to wring their tears into the candy, or get the memories from their cards into the candy. I told them magic cannot be rushed. (Mostly I was swamped with lesson plans and missing entries from grade books) 




Miraculously, on the last day of school before Thanksgiving Break, the lozenges were finished! 




(Even more miraculously, the teacher who stayed up until four in the morning mixing tiny, customized batches of candy for each student didn't run over any pedestrians along her commute to deliver those lozenges) 




It didn't matter about lacking sleep. That was the magic... loving my students and what they shared with me more than myself, if only for a moment. But with the hope that it is moment enough to warm them in future days. 




 I attempted to nap during the 45 minutes before my alarm signaled the opportunity to begin again, but I was awake with pure joy at having finished our project. We would get to share the lozenges during our Feast of Thankfulness !  




( I still consumed massive amounts of coffee, I am not super human) 







Recipe: White Chocolate,Shattered Hard Candies, Memories, Time, Love &  Magic




"I lay there and thought how life was like a Littmus Lozenge, how the sweet and the sad were all mixed up together and how hard it was to separate them out. 



{Because of WinnDixie}






A dozen little candles, whose flames I get to tend  (3/4th Grade) 

Each student received five lozenges. There was also a batch for the teachers made from all the students' combined 'memories' (left over hard candy bits). They were told to let the lozenges dissolve in their mouths as they read/thought back over their memories (which I returned to them with the lozenges).





 I do not know that everyone found them palatable, it is reasonable to assume some did not. Yet, sharing the moment was soul-satisfying, like warm soup on a cold night. 








Mrs. Amaker's Third Grade: Josh, Fisher, Baby Bel, Lanie & Alexa 




Tripp'n




I "Noah" guy...





Bella who lost her baby sister, and Charis ... who tricked me by switching memory cards with Ivy  


Dear Charis & Ivy, I still want the magic to be real, too.  I test it all the time.






As we shared in a Thankfulness Feast, we gave extra lozenges to the other grades. We told the younger groups about stories they have to look forward to and the candy that follows Leroy Ninker's ButterBarrels (we used butterscotch, but most of the wee ones are not yet fans of this flavor. I will try again with butter rum.) 





It was a successful project and worth the wait, but as with most stories, only the beginning.  There were more lozenges to be shared and there are always, always more stories to be told. 








"I wanted to hear the rest of the story. It was important to me to hear how Littmus survived after losing everything he loved." 


  {Because of Winn-Dixie}





~~~ * ~~~





It is the week of Thanksgiving break and the start of our holiday season.  I find myself in a new chapter this year, one where my heart is certain to break... and break... and break. It is not unlike chapters that led me here, only written more by candlelight. 





My children, in whom I invested much of my life, are not all with me this year. 


There are matters of custody and visitation keeping us apart, and for some, anger and misunderstanding. The empty space where they ought to be is cold like winter, and dim. 



“Well, Littmus came home from the war,” said Miss Franny as she went on with her story, “and found himself alone. And he sat down on what used to be the front step of his house, and he cried and cried. He cried just like a baby. He missed his mama and he missed his daddy and he missed his sisters and he missed the boy he used to be. When he finally finished crying, he had the strangest sensation. He felt like he wanted something sweet. He wanted a piece of candy. He hadn’t had a piece of candy in years. And it was right then that he made a decision. Yes ma’am. Littmus W. Block figured the world was a sorry affair and that it had enough ugly things in it and what he was going to do was concentrate on putting something sweet in it."  



{Because Of Winn-Dixie}





And so. 






In the waiting, I will count my blessings like stars against a cold winter sky. 





I will stir into my sorrow  sweet, warm, candlelit joy. 





:: Comes now, even as I type, a knock at the front porch door. It is my daughter's friend Brystal from just around the block. She is 7.  :: 





"Rye's not here right now; she's at her dad's until Friday " I say to the small chilled girl staring at me through the screen. 





I see her disappointment at having to walk back without visiting her friend. 





Maybe it was her sorrow mingled with cold-blushed cheeks, or a twinge of guilt that I had briefly considered letting her knock until she gave up and went back home, perhaps it was something bigger, like love, or loneliness or magic that bid me let her in. 





'HOPE' cried out from her sweater in pink sequins.  





And so. 





I asked her if she would like to come in and warm up. How about hot chocolate?  Do you require extra marshmallows? 





 Of course, of course, of course she does. 





She settles at the coffee table with her mug full of marshmallows and my colorful, wordless Hulot books, waiting for the chocolate to become sip-ably cool. 





I tell her what I am writing about, about the project and the book we read together at school. I ask her if she knows the story and tell her I have a few lozenges left over. 





Of course, of course, of course she wants one. 





But as she closes her eyes and lets the candy melt, tasting for a memory,  there comes another knock on the glossy red door.





I wave my neighbors inside. 



Paulette just turned 13. She'll have coffee with creamer, please.  

Her brother London, age 10, will take as many marshmallows in his chocolate as the pink camouflage mug will hold. 





They are waiting to be picked up by a family friend, but are willing to see if we can bake a can of cinnamon rolls before they have to leave. 





They join the Littmus Lozenge fun as the gooey-centered cinnamon rolls race the empty driveway next door. 



They share their memories with me. 






Brystal remembers a time when her baby sister made a giant splash in the tub. Everything was soaked! It was so funny. She says her memory is a happy one. 





Paully remembers visiting a flower farm where a ladybug suddenly landed on her. There was sunshine and sunflowers. She remembers a happier place and time. 





London says his memory is sad. He remembers the last Christmas before his dad left and asks Paully where it was they were living. He mostly remembers big Christmas decorations and that it was the last time they had their dad. They don't think they'll be hearing much from him anymore. 





I agree that it is sad. We talk about how it may not always be. Life is full of unforeseen changes, especially within ourselves. We get to chose so many things, and where to place our focus. 





I call them my Hot Cocoa Gang and they oblige me a photo. The cinnamon rolls beat the mini van, so we feast and start  'Because of Winn-Dixie' on the old VHS/DVD combo. 





And just as when that magic, or loneliness or love whispered "Invite her in." I hear a whispered "Look.",  and see my absence of two daughters and a son filled now, for a moment, with two girls and boy who need my presence. 








The Hot Cocoa Gang 

"Dear God, thank you for warm summer nights and candlelight and good food. But thank you most of all for friends. We appreciate the complicated and wonderful gifts you give us in each other. And we appreciate the task you put down before us, of loving each other the best we can, even as you love us. We pray in Christ's name, Amen."   


~DiCamillo {Because Of Winn-Dixie}










And now in my own words: 


I am thankful for my children. For the time we shared and even now, the lessons found in loss. 


I am thankful for my parents, who have never skimped on love. 


I am thankful for my family - siblings, cousins, all - who always make sure there are extra blankets on the bed and enough warmth to go around. 


I am thankful for my job, the parents who entrust their world to my care, my students and fellow teachers with whom I get to daily strive. 


I am thankful for friends- those old, and new and yet to be discovered. 


For shelter and provisions, my gratitude has deepened immensely.


I am thankful for memories. And magic. For hope,  loneliness, laughter and love. 


I am thankful for stories, for books with words and without, and for those who wield them well to change the world. 


I am thankful for sweet Kate and the gentle way she reminds me to find the light, again and again and again. 


And I am thankful for the Light, for being warmed and sought and taught by it,  for the gift of sharing light with others. 






HAPPY THANKSGIVING 2019!