Pirates clashing swords, fairies sprinkling pixie dust, crocodiles drooling and children flying around in pajamas; that is what little kids dream about, according to Peter Pan. 

About a month before we arrived in Wisconsin, we were told about the opportunity for Noah to join his cousin Harriet for Prairie Fire Children’s Theater, a company that takes a group of children for 5 days to put together a 1 ½ hour musical. This year they would be acting out the drama of Peter Pan. We took the cue to enjoy the story of the lost boy and his comrades in all of it’s forms: written book, theatrical drama, hollywood movie, and many afternoons of play acting. 

In anticipation of the theatrical performance, I read the book of the original story by J. M. Barrie to the cousins. The book is delightfully written, and very entertaining, but be warned that the pirates are violent, and the way it refers to Indians is disrespectful (as were most classic books from that era).  As I read, I was surprised at how funny some of the scenes were, and how much my heart tugged for Peter and the poor boys. I went back and forth between liking and disliking Peter throughout the book, and saw traits of myself in the woman-child Wendy. The children constantly chanted “I complain of ‘so and so’” at the dinner table, and wept at the end when Wendy grew up and was no longer able to return to Neverland.  I would recommend reading the story, but maybe editing a few words. 

The week of the play started with an evening of “try-outs”, where any student who wished to be a part of the play came to put forth their best effort in hopes of a big role. Noah and Harriet were both cast as Indians, and as Prairie Fire always puts their own spin on a story, they were the Cleveland Indians… baseball players. It was a clever move, and the kids really enjoyed their songs and lines. We saw the performance two days in a row over the weekend, then heard the songs and lines for the next two weeks as Harriet and Noah led the younger cousins in re-enacting the play over… and over… and over. Yesterday I told my children that they were only allowed to act out Peter Pan outside.

• 

After enjoying Neverland through a book and a play, Paul and I showed the Disney version on screen and sang along to all of the nostalgic songs from our childhoods. The kids were rolling with laughter at the slapstick humor, and recognized so many scenes and lines from the book and play. Again, the movie does a terrible job of portraying Indians, (and the pirates are still violent), so watch with caution and a good follow-up discussion. I did notice the twists and turns from the original book, but still enjoyed the story as I remembered it. 

Because we read, acted, watched and played Peter Pan in that order, I felt like both the children and myself gained a really good understanding of the story, something that I lacked when I just watched the movie growing up.  I feel much more confident that Noah and Natalie know what is happening when they experience a story in various forms. We have done this multi-exposure with other stories, as well, with great success: 

• Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (play, book, music, movie)
• The Secret Garden (book, play-acting, movie) 
• Robin Hood (various books, movie, playing, short stories) 
• Star Wars (MANY books and stories, orchestra songs, legos/action figures, playing, and #4 & #5 movies)
• Mary Poppins (currently reading the books with plans for more)

We are looking forward to living in England next spring, and will have the opportunity to experience many of our favorite stories in yet another context- the original setting! The more exposure and experiences we have to a good story, the greater the understanding and impact it can have upon our lives. This is true about God’s narrative as well, and we hope that as we travel with our family to different areas of the midwest, then Europe, that we will gain a broader perspective of His story as we listen, read, explore, observe and participate in daily life. 

Gold above and gold below, touched by Midas’ fingers. 

Leaves fluttering, stirring up magic that envelopes our path, 

Leading us deeper into the maple woodland.

Crunching leaves create a symphony, 

Music rising and falling with the beams of dancing sunlight.

We enjoyed the beauty of northern Wisconsin during the month of October, and took advantage of the many trails and lands to hike through the woods. The unusually long, green summer gave way to brilliant autumn colors, and the trees were proud to show them off. There were a fair amount of rainy days as well, and I learned that if I was prepared for it, they were just as enjoyable as the perfect weather walks. 

Our Wisconsin home for October was with Paul’s sister and family. Just down the road from their house was the Gandy Dancer trail, a trail that runs through Wisconsin and parts of Minnesota. We enjoyed taking short evening walks down the trail when the kids needed to use some energy, or when Paul and I had an opportunity to enjoy holding hands for a peaceful jaunt. It was often drizzling out those first few weeks, and at first I would automatically decline an invitation for a hike due to the “weather”. After realizing that our life in England will have similar rainy days, I decided to use the opportunity to practice dressing for the weather. It’s ironic, how many from the midwest scoff at those whose lives stop due to an inch of snow? I realized the similarity when I used the rain to stop me from going outside. So, slipping into a raincoat and boots, bundled with mittens and hats, I enjoyed the darkened, wet leaves, the misty air around me, and watching the irresistible puddles draw childrens’ boots to splash.

• 

• 

To make sure that I didn’t always remember the rainy, grey days, Wisconsin decided to give it’s best weather on a weekend hike at the local state park. Three sister-in-laws, together with five little cousins, started down the trail through a predictably pretty-colored forest of a variety of trees. As the trees became thicker, so did the beauty. We watched the light stream through the branches to piles of leaves, and the trail led us down to the sparkling blue lake. A tiny waterfall made a little stream to cross, and we all laughed as the women helped the faltering children across the stepping stones, trying not to fall into the water with wriggly little bodies in our arms. Our conversation was easy as we watched the running children on their great adventures, and our lungs were filled with refreshment and warmth and memories that will last beyond the end of the trail. 

The hike that inspired the poem was truly magical, a forest of golden maple trees that were in peak color, with the floor full of tiny maple saplings also turned to gold. I had gone to my niece’s piano lesson at her teacher’s house in the country, a long strip of land that had both the friendliest horse I’ve ever met, as well as a fairyland forest. I learned that maple leaves have special properties that help prevent weeds from growing, so there were no weeds covering the ground underneath the trees, besides a few ferns and the swaying grasses along the bog below the trail. After walking through with my sister-in-law and the kids, I was entranced, and asked if I could bring Paul back for a walk that evening. Some of the sun-glow was gone when we came later, but he was just as captivated as I was, and we enjoyed imagining that we had been placed in the scene of a storybook. The owners told us that they often tapped these sugar maples in the late winter for syrup, a delicious way to enjoy these trees and taste the reminder of gold.

Just taking the opportunity to write about our hikes shows me how much more I could have enjoyed if I had just put on my jacket and stepped outside more often. Often when I am in situations where I feel I may be uncomfortable, I am hesitant to even put forth the effort to try. This season of our family’s life has given plenty of opportunities to be uncomfortable, and we are learning to be more and more comfortable with that discomfort. Whether we are in perfect conditions or not, it’s still possible to enjoy our surroundings if we dress for the weather and step outside.

A flip, a flap, a flutter,

Like old-fashioned butter,

Churning, churning, 

Inside turning,

From caterpillar into butterfly.

• 

• 

• 

• 

The plastic box containers waited for us on the counter of our Minnesota home-for-a-week with instructions for us to watch the hanging chrysali (plural for many chrysalis) and release the monarch butterflies once they hatched. Each of the four containers housed about six chrysali, and three butterflies already waited for us in one of them. Awed and amazed, we carefully reached inside the lid and let the delicate creatures climb on our fingers. Gently raising them out, we had a minute to just look at the thin, brightly colored wings with intricately drawn lines and soft curves. The dainty legs clung to our fingers as we marveled at the beauty. Then, like a tissue in the wind, the butterfly flapped its new wings for the first time as we watched it’s maiden flight into the blue sky. 

And that began our month long obsession with these beautiful, delicate creatures and their squishy caterpillar counterparts.

Though we started at the end of the cycle, watching the chrysalis turn dark then waiting for the wet-winged butterfly to dry it’s wings and be released, the kids soon found the milkweed plants crawling with caterpillars and even an egg. So we went back to the beginning, feeding the caterpillars and cleaning out the impressive amount of poop they created, then watching with delight as each one crawled up to hang upside down in a “J”. From there we would wait for the tell-tale sign that it was ready to create its chrysalis, and in three minutes the transformation would be over. Often we would miss this incredible feat because it happened so fast, but we did manage to watch a few. 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

We took our little plastic box full of caterpillars with us to my parents, then my dad caught butterfly fever, and we scavenged the area around their house for milkweed and caterpillars. We will hold so many memories together revolving around the beautiful Monarch. By the time we moved away from Minnesota, there were 11 chrysali waiting to hatch, so we took seven with us and left four for my parents. The seven chrysali made the journey to our new home on the Missouri River, where we waited in anticipation for the transformation to be complete so we could release the butterflies. Last week we released the last butterfly to make the long journey south.

It’s easy to see the analogies with butterflies and our change of plans. We were once the caterpillar, munching along and making plans, now I feel like I am in the chrysalis, in the dark, not knowing what is happening but trusting that the time is being well spent in refining and making life beautiful. I’m not sure how long it will take to hatch, or what I will look like when it’s finished, but I’m excited to stop eating leaves and learn how to fly!