The Story Garden with Mrs. Sandoz

The Egg By Kristen S. Sandoz 2013   The other day my five-year-old son had a friend over and they spent a lot of time with our hens.   Later that day when I went to check on the ladies I found two eggs smashed against the fence and evidence of a cover up.   If you have ever raised your own chickens you know how precious eggs are.   I was not happy about this and handled the whole thing very poorly.   That night I was really disturbed by my reaction and it brought to mind an experience I had as a five year old.   It was small, black, exquisitely hand painted, and edged with gold gilding.   It was lovely and delicate much like a teacup with gold trim.   You know the kind that even as an adult you’re afraid to touch its dainty handle with your comparatively large and clumsy fingers.   Only a teacup doesn’t quite compare with the fragility of nature.   In my hand I was holding an egg.   It was a gift to my mother f...

Today I am sharing, for the first time I might add, a story I have written.  I'm a little nervous about this.  It feels super vulnerable. So be kind to me :)  It's a story for St. Nicholas Day, which is tomorrow.  If you do nothing else for this day at least read this story.   Oh!  I've added a "Print Friendly" button to the bottom of my posts so you can print this story out and read it more easily to your Littles and Bigs. I love the imagination that St. Nick brings to children.  The stories around him are full of fantasy and mystery.  They create an opportunity to ponder the Mystery of Christ and the inner workings of our hearts.  I tell this story, "St. Nick and The Sausage Machine", on St. Nicholas Eve in anticipation of his visit the next morning.  And let me tell you it's a gripping story.  My boys are on the edge of their seats every time!  Then afterwards we sprinkle special magical glitter dust on our doorste...

Okay friends, I have a confession to make.  Santa doesn’t come to my family’s house.  Well, at least not on Christmas day.  No, we think Santa is special enough to have his very own day!  December 6 th .  It’s the first thing my family changed when we started to revive our Advent season.  After reading Gertrud Mueller Nelson’s book “To Dance with God” I fell in love with St. Nicholas, AKA, Santa Clause.  St. Nick is a type of Christ.  If you use him properly he can point wonderfully to Christ on Christmas.  Much like John the Baptist did for Christ on Easter.  If you want to know more about Santa Clause here is a site called, St. Nicholas Center: discovering the truth about Santa Claus , that Gertrud Mueller Nelson herself directed me to.  Ms. Nelson said she has a play about the very same story I'm going to share in my next post on this site.  Of course you should read Gertrud Mueller Nelson’s book.  It is very inspirin...

Torture your guests with a story when their mouths are full of pie on Thanksgiving Day. My extended family always roll their eyes when I bust out my holiday stories.  I'm teased mercilessly by my sisters.  It's funny how if I don't bring one to share they complain.  So don't be daunted by a few skeptical comments.  They'll get over it. O. Henry is one of the best loved classic writers.  Here he writes a story for the adults and your Biggers.  The Littles may have trouble following it but there's nothing in it to harm them.   Two Old Thanksgiving Gentlemen by O. Henry InternetAccuracyproject.org There is one day that is ours. There is one day when all we Americans who are not self-made go back to the old home to eat saleratus biscuits and marvel how much nearer to the porch the old pump looks than it used to. Bless the day. President Roosevelt gives it to us. We hear some talk of the Puritans, but don't just remember who th...

  Thanksgiving is upon us.  You need a story or maybe even two.  Start with this Native American story. Ooo...some popcorn would be perfect with this story!   The Spirit of the Corn An Iroquois Legend by Harriet Maxwell Converse (Adapted) Apples4theteacher.com There was a time, says the Iroquois grandmother, when it was not needful to plant the corn- seed nor to hoe the fields, for the corn sprang up of itself, and filled the broad meadows. Its stalks grew strong and tall, and were covered with leaves like waving banners, and filled with ears of pearly grain wrapped in silken green husks. In those days Onatah, the Spirit of the Corn, walked upon the earth. The sun lovingly touched her dusky face with the blush of the morning, and her eyes grew soft as the gleam of the stars on dark streams. Her night-black hair was spread before the breeze like a wind-driven cloud. As she walked through the fields, the corn, the Indian maize, sprang up of itself from the ear...