iPad in Kidmin: Notability

i've been looking for ways to put the ipad to work in the context of kids ministry, and haven't found much in the way of resources online. so, when i come up with a good use, i'll post about it in hopes that others will find it useful.

last night, we did a bible study community group with the kids as we finished up our unit on community. we took the passage that was taught sunday morning, john 14, and developed a set of related questions to discuss.

but as i was writing the questions, i knew that i wanted it to be more than just sitting and talking. that wasn't exciting, and i want the kids to see that talking about God is exciting. enter ipad.

last week, i picked up an app called Notability which allows you to draw, type, highlight, erase or just write with your fingertip. so the group discussion questions transformed into "discuss and draw your answer". we discussed each question as a group, but took turns drawing out our answer so that everyone got to participate.

here are a few of my favorite drawings from the kids.

 

Aidyn drew a picture of Jesus talking to the Disciples.

 

Brynn thought about the day children were walking to their school and miraculously were unharmed when a car crash happened right in front of them, leaving debris five feet away from the kids. She described this as "He protects us."

 

Ava drew a picture of "people who love Jesus" (aka, "disciples").

 

Taylor imagines the Holy Spirit as a little like us, but with gleaming light surrounding Him.

 

Elle said that the Holy Spirit helps us by "talking to our brains". (Yes, that's a brain, though afterwards she said "It looks like a piece of meat!")

it was great fun to see the kids play with the technology, and to see them eagerly answer the questions, helping one another develop their theology. but i won't lie - every time the ipad changed hands, my heart jumped a bit...

A week later...

It's been a week since we said goodbye to Miss A, and the grieving process has been both helpful and confusing.

Here's what I know:

• That was a fabulous first experience. I had prepared myself for my own horror stories, the kind people felt the need to tell us when we first shared that we were feeling called this direction. The worst of our problems, really, was the sleep inconsistencies, and I'm confident that's just a matter of time and comfort for any child.
• God called us into this. If He hadn't, we wouldn't have survived it, come out stronger, and feel peace about where we are now.
• God is calling us to do it again. Not right away, there's still some healing and breath-catching to do.
• I miss her still, but feel complete peace about how the placement ended.
• It'll be a little while before we're ready to go again. I don't know how long. I'm not even sure how I'll know when I'm ready. This girl who has a checklist for everything has no checklist to tell her when she's ready to turn life on it's head again... But that's okay. God knows. My husband will know. God will tell us. I trust them.

One last post about Miss A coming soon - highlights, favorite moments, lessons we learned... As soon as I gather the courage to write it.

Having Said Goodbye (or: How I Am)

We said goodbye to Miss A yesterday morning, and it's just now beginning to feel real.

The last 36 hours have been filled with preparations for a family wedding, so I have been too busy to dwell on the feelings. So many people asked me today "how I am" that I finally started to process.

The house feels empty. There is evidence of a little girl everywhere. A dollhouse in the living room. A pink cup on the bathroom counter. A random sticker stuck to the floor. Same sheets on the bed, which has obviously been "made" by a 3 year old. The dishwasher has kid dishes, kid cups and kid utensils. Her beloved "pack pack" still holds a pink water bottle, with water in it.

And a giant stack of library books on top of the piano remind me each time I pass that a child lives here; no, lived here.

My heart, like my house, also feels like a mess. And like my house, I can see what needs to be done. But I can't find the strength to do it, and I don't know where to begin anyway.

I need to clean, put things away, process through some crap, and get ready to start again. But today I just keep waiting for her to come home.

thinking about "progress"

today i'm thinking about progress. pretty much since Miss A turned our world upside down, we've looked for any inkling of progress to indicate success.

• from hardly sleeping to sleeping mostly through the night.
  
• from refusing to eat hardly anything that grows from the ground to willingly tasting a few fruits, and not even noticing the "ninja veggies" that often get mixed into dinner.
  
• from being unable to be alone in a room, to choosing to play in her room by herself.
  
• from saying "me scared" any time a room seemed darker than necessary, to deciding "me like dark". (some might call this brainwashing. i like to think of it as pep-talks, when i respond to "it's dark." with "it's a good thing we like the dark, huh?")
  
• from no manners to occasional manners.
  
• from unable to communicate needs when emotional to using "big girl words" to tell us what's wrong.
  
• from some serious hesitations about matt to deciding he's her best friend, and choosing to hold his hand instead of mine.

this morning, i thought about how i was up in the middle of the night 3 times. two were to deal with temperature (i think) and one was to convince her that 6:20am is "not quite morning yet". i realized i was discouraged by this, because i was looking at how it affected me. obviously my goal had been to sleep through the night myself (can you blame me?), but the reality is that if long, restful nights are our goal in life, we ought not become parents.

instead, i need to focus on how she is affected, and call that progress. sure, she woke up. but did she scream at me? nope. did she require 2 hours in the rocking chair at 2am? nope. did she kick and sob? nope. did she demand that the lights be turned on? nope. did she require matt and i to sit in dining room chairs in her room and carry on soft, meaningless conversation, in the middle of the night, so she could fall back asleep to the sound of our voices? nope. (that happened once. true story.)

did she wipe away her tears and use big girl words to tell me she was hot? and later, cold? yep. did she climb back into bed willingly and go back to sleep, instead of wanting to sleep on the couch? yep. (well, mostly.)

that's all progress. so yes, i'm tired today. but she's bright-eyed and sunshiny, as usual. she's proud of herself for being a big girl and i'm proud of her too. she's getting what she needs. she's making progress. that's what matters. (and i can sleep later. like, in 15 years or so.)

magic sleep fix?

our biggest challenge with Miss A has been sleep. it took several weeks before she was willing to go into her room by herself for more than a moment, and it took a "big girl" sticker chart to help her claim some courage and not say "me scared" at the idea of turning on her own bedroom light.

so, sleep eluded us too. some nights were better than others, but most nights included two or three awakenings (four on bad night), beginning with crying and often escalating to screaming for various reasons and lengths of time. just in the last few days have we finally seen real progress in this area, as we figure out the right temperature, combination of pjs and blankies, lotion, chapstick, hair in a ponytail, etc, etc, etc. matt looks at us with eyebrows raised and i say, non-chalantly, "girls are high-maintenance. you knew this."

Miss A, our first.

Miss A came to us after a rough week with her family. it was a friday afternoon, my phone rang and the placement worker, who knew we were waiting and eager, said "there's a little girl waiting here for you". a part of me melted. i told him i'd call him back, then i called matt.

we talked it over, prayed, and decided it was as close to perfect timing as we'd ever get. and two hours later, a sweet little girl with chubby cheeks, bright eyes and the sunniest smile i've ever seen, arrived in our home.

Miss A's heart was, understandably, broken. at 3 1/2, she's too young to understand what's going on - and understanding doesn't fix this kind of pain anyway. we began to look for ways to help her cope and begin healing. snacks. hugs. rocking chair. storybooks.

within a few days, we learned that her family had attended church for a season, so we began talking about the God who made her and the Jesus who loves her. we prayed at meals and always thanked God for her, and within a few weeks, she and I were praying each morning on the way to daycare, and again at bedtime. and boy, does she love church. friends. playtime. and every week, "Did you hear a story today?"... "Yup!" ... "What about?" ... "Cheezus. Me see Him?"