Every year we all line up, make those goals/resolutions/decisions and march bravely forward for a week or two or four until we lose focus or get sick or life happens and then hang our heads and resolve to do better next year. All of this may even take place before we’re even finished cleaning up after or paying for Christmas.
What if we looked at it from the other end? What if we put our action in the proper focus? What if we put the process in a better order? What if we asked better questions?
Why did I gain weight?
What damages my relationships with family and friends?
What has prevented me from seeing what’s happening?
So many times we trot out our same solutions for what we think is wrong in our lives only to see them fail year by year. Perhaps we might consider doing some of these things. The following are a list of possibilities in no particular order.
1. Write down changes we want to see in our circumstances and then intentionally watch our actions to see how they play into the creation of the dynamic we desire to change.
Ex. I have too much stuff- I buy things when I’m down to create excitement and fun.
2. What action have I committed that I regret and have never resolved? How much of my energy is it sucking. What opportunities is it blocking?
3. What trauma or hurt have I stored but never processed? Phobias, abuse, accidents, injuries all impact our health and choices.
4. Begin journaling our emotions and watching for patterns.
So many times our stress, our struggles or our difficulties cycle around until we decide to be honest with ourselves. When we look at ourselves with honesty and compassion, lasting change is available. May our 2019 be a season of growth and learning for us all!!
Friday, December 28, 2018
Sunday, December 16, 2018
Be Like Bill
Over time they all took lessons or watched YouTube videos on how to play and recitals came and went and more babies came and thankfully stuck around and sometimes the practicing was patchy and sometimes the practice was really noisy and sometimes the mommy musician (Henceforth referred to as MM) thought she would lose her mind.
Through all of this the mommy musician watched and hoped and prayed and practiced. Sometimes she played at night after the kids were in bed and sometimes she practiced instead of cleaning or taking a shower or other things that needed done but all the time she wanted to someday play well.
But mostly she wanted to have her kids play well. She knew she had heard many people talk about how they had few regrets but no one had ever said “I sure wish my mother hadn’t made me take lessons and learn piano.” (or whichever instrument) she had remembered how much she hated to play songs she didn’t like, so she vowed to purchase music her kids wanted to play, instruments they wanted to play and a good teacher for them.
As time went on, she continued to practice because you shouldn’t ask your children to do things you don’t do and leading by example is always best. An accordion, a baritone Ukulele, a violin all came to hang on the walls because she liked them, loved to play them and looked forward to practice time. As her children grew, the piano and then violin lessons began and when a beautiful and fabulous musical Goddess presented herself to teach anything your heart desired, other instruments became a possibility and the cello, ukulele and banjo appeared in the music room.
Though the beautiful music played at home was much enjoyed and spontaneous jam sessions with multiple siblings was cause for celebrating, the best practice always happened when preparing for a recital or other event. Performance lends a certain urgency but performing is a strange animal.
The music so carefully prepared may look like a foreign language when moved from the music stand at home to a new stage or venue and the musician may suddenly develop strange tremors, spasms, vision issues, amnesia, and even nausea. Some are affected more than others and this Mommy musician had a terrible case of performancitis. Now matter how well prepared she may have been, it seemed that some musical calamity was likely to strike if she felt any hint of criticism from anyone present, real or imagined. It could be that the grouchy looking lady on the third row just has fierce eyebrows and isn’t really a former postal worker/piano teacher with anger management issues but the MM would suddenly develop a great case of glued fingers that play very stickily indeed.
Her children didn’t appear to have this strange malady because they inherited some very serious calm- under- pressure genes from their father but nevertheless performances were nerve racking for the MM.
Near the home of this musical family there is a tourist attraction and each year the volunteers who staff the festival that takes place there would ask this musical family to play for about forty minutes on the first day of the Festival at 9 am. After the first two years of playing folk music there, the family realized that the only audience that showed up that early was their grandparents and a few friends and as they were there on a volunteer basis it became a perfect opportunity to allow the smaller children to take a turn on the stage performing.
After asking permission to include the inexperienced performers, the family prepared and played songs together and just enjoyed the time. Every year for the first few years the performers scheduled afterward failed to appear and the family was asked to continue playing for another hour and sometimes two. With some fun fiddle songs, some old favorites, some western movie classics and some instrumental pieces, the time passed and the pressure of performing eased.
Until one day, after five years of supportive encouragement from the sound techs ( also volunteers) there was a new program. The staff changed and a new person was put in charge. This gentleman was new and had been a member of a famous choir. When the family arrived to play, as invited, there was a new and very disapproving face.
The same audience of grandparents and Aunt and cousins had been joined by some of the people who had heard the family play in previous years and come back. There was a few new faces and though it was quiet as the early morning warranted and there were a few hiccups as any performance with small children can be expected to have the MM thought it went very well.
The Choir Man did not. He rose and made an announcement over the mic, He said “Well, now that that’s finished ...Ladies and Gentlemen, come and hear some real musicians.” The MM was surprised and dismayed. Perhaps he felt that fiddle music was not cultured enough. Perhaps he felt that small children playing their pieces with some stumbling as five year olds may do was not acceptable in public, or an embarrassment to his carefully planned program. The MM was too stunned to even say a word.
The family quickly packed up their instruments and cleared the stage, very much missing the friendly sound tech who had told them every year that their best efforts was his favorite part of the entertainment for the weekend. As the family walked away, the hours of practice ran through the MM’s mind only to be interrupted by the very quiet and subdued voice of her little boy, one of his first performances just behind him.”Mom, what did he mean,’real’ musicians? I felt kind of bad when he said that. Does that mean that we aren’t real musicians?” She struggled with words for a moment and then finally said, “ Perhaps our music isn’t what he’s used to and not what he expected. Do you play the fiddle? Did you practice hard?” The little boy nodded. “Then you ARE a musician!” The MM really just wanted to walk over and punch the man in the face for his tactlessness and poor manners but that’s bad for the hands and certainly bad for the children to see so she sheparded the children home. The joy in playing music had been dampened for that little boy. His excitement, so necessary for the beginning stages of any new endeavor, took a hit and his desire to practice was greatly limited by his doubts.
Which brings us to Bill. Bill comes on the scene a few years later. Bill invited the family to his garage to Jam. Bill’s garage is decorated with old time Rock N’Roll and vintage cars. Bill might not be a member of a famous choir, he might enjoy a cold beer when barbequing in the back yard. Bill might be an old guy with great taste in music but that’s not what MM loves most about Bill. On this particular night, when the musical family hesitantly unloaded their violins, ukes, guitars and harmonicas (well, okay, you don’t unload a harmonica. That’s the beauty of them!) and walked back to Bill’s garage for the first time they didn’t know what to expect. What they got was a warm welcome, a personal interest in their names, where they were from and what they liked to play. What they learned is that Bill and friends of Bill are the funnest group of musicians to play with. They can pick up any melody line, sort the chords and jump in with any favorite song you throw at them and go for hours. They can draw out a shy musician who only came to watch, but goes home excited to practice, and with a determination to learn Bill’s favorite song. They love young people and want to pass on the joy of music and performing to the next generation. They pause in the middle of the song to nod and give a compliment when a part sounds really good and a chorus of appreciation goes up when you really nail something.
In this group you sit in a circle and each person takes a turn to choose the song they want and play. If anyone else knows it they jump in and sing harmony or play along. Anything and everything you like, people of all ages and tastes and a whole lot of fun is what you get. The family couldn’t believe how the time flew and didn’t want to go even after four hours, though an hours drive was ahead of them. The whole musical family practiced and played and laughed together with a whole new energy and interest for months.
So I beg you wise persons:
1. Clap loudly for the beautiful pieces played flawlessly and advanced talent but clap even louder for the struggling musician, the beginner, the self doubting and especially for the severe case of performancitis.
2. Remember that it takes guts to stand in front of you, hours of practice happened before that moment and even if you can play better, they need your encouragement. And if you don’t play at all you may have no idea how difficult that piece is, how hard to get that tone and no idea how to produce it by yourself.
3. You have no idea what unkind things have been said to them before and how insecure they may be about their role as a musician.
4. Everyone needs a Bill.
BE LIKE BILL
*Note - The iPad has a personality disorder today and I can’t get italics to give up so thank you for your patience.
**I realize that we learn as much from our critics as from our friends and we have much room for improvement, so there’s that.
***I am writing about a personal experience here but writing in the third person was just fun today.
UPDATE -I met Bill at a Christmas party this weekend and he greeted me with a big smile, gently insisted that I come up and sing a few numbers with his band that was providing the entertainment. My daughter and I sang and had a blast. I love Bill!
Sunday, October 29, 2017
Secret? Or Private?
I have fielded some questions on HomeSchool that I would like to address. Is there anything secret about homeschool?
In an age where the details of our private lives are on FaceBook and Twitter and InstaGram, why not more transparency in homeschool? Why not share the details of children’s education with all the world?
Let me ‘splain- no there is too much, let me sum up.
I have many children, more than a few and not as many as many of you but I think we can say many without being incorrect. These children happen to be schooled at home. It didn’t actually just “happen “ that way but for all intents and purposes and my literary license I’m going with it.
We live twenty five miles from the nearest town and forty from the town where I went to school and where my kids would be bussed should we have decided to send them to that school. We have some property and the blessing of having livestock, pets, four wheelers and plenty of chores. We grow a garden and attempt to spend some time outdoors instead of glued to our electronic devices. There are days where we are attentive to book work and online school programs, such as Khan ( love Khan). And there are also days when the vet comes and we all have school outside while the dog gets fixed and the colts are gelded and sometimes the weather is too gorgeous to do anything but run around like crazy people. At least that’s what the kids do and I can’t complain because they’re such cute crazy people.
This method of learning is new to some and there have been times that it makes people uncomfortable to see a kid at home during the day when he isn’t sick or hasn’t been to the dentist. That’s okay, it isn’t something that everyone is familiar with - like me trying to operate an android phone or eyelash curler thingies. Yes, this “thingies” word is an all purpose word that is used in my homeschool and derided by some ( like my husband, who would use the more appropriate word “tool” until he realized what I was talking about and then he would likely just leave the room. It doesn’t do to look too deeply into the ways of women, you know.)
When you undertake to do something differently you may encounter those who assume that because you choose to do something different than they that you are demeaning their choice, that you find them inferior in some way. And they do have a smallish point. You did find that you do value something about your choice over theirs, otherwise you would have made the same choice as they, right? Be it breastfeeding versus formula, disposable versus cloth, trade school versus college, jeans versus leggings, crunchy versus ...uh, not crunchy ? Or any other choice that we as parents get to make, there is room to make someone else uncomfortable. Perhaps your reasons for making your choice have more to do with circumstances and changing dynamics and less to do with fundamentals but perhaps not. This decision on schooling can make people uncomfortable and seeking to ease their discomfort. Sometimes the cure for the discomfort is to demean your choice back at ya. Citing studies of.....something negative, socialization (or the lack thereof) perhaps in an effort to prove something.
Seeking to remove discomfort is natural and expected, we all do it. Identifying the cause of the discomfort can prove very helpful in a way that avoiding it or denying it’s existence cannot. I find that when someone calls my good judgement into question, I hear an echo of my own doubts and fears as a parent. I am reminded of my shortcomings as a teacher and parent and become defensive, so it is easy for me to imagine that other parents may feel the same way.
Some parents may feel that you think they are inferior because they aren’t as committed to their children’s education as you (supposedly) are. Perhaps they think you feel “too good” for what they consider to be just fine for their kids. Whatever the case may be, our decisions as parents are a great trigger as other parents measure against our yardstick and we against theirs and everyone winds up feeling like they are found wanting.
So here are some things to know about homeschool from my personal perspective. This is, alas, merely a personal perspective as I am just one and am not really interested in chasing the funding to conduct studies to see if I’m normal.
1- By nature, homeschool is a private affair. This is not because we are trying to hide some juicy tidbit about how we are trapping the kids in the basement and only slipping them food on days that begin with “T” or any other horrible and despicable secret. It is simply that we are not used to sharing every detail of our kids’ growth with a lot of outside persons. There are no parent teacher conferences ( just parent-parent ones) and actually, there aren’t usually grades to groan over several times a year. There may well be subjects that collect their fair share of groans but this is not a group think session outside of the family. There are not staff meetings about behavior issues and the schooling is not funded by a public tax which deserves a public accounting for performance. Simply put, there are no middle men. If the materials are insufficient, the CFO makes adjustments to the grocery budget and the Christmas budget and shops the curriculum sales to remedy the deficiency. Much like our counterparts whose children attend public or private schools, homeschool parents do not release private information about grades, performance, behavioral issues or any other personal information that would interfere with our children’s progress. It may be tempting at times for an outside party to see if a child is learning ( especially if you have your doubts about the chosen method of schooling) by quizzing them about their progress, but I can tell you that, for any child to be quizzed about what they are learning is intrusive. They may well feel more like a Science Fair project or a social abnormality than was intended. Like their parents, they are not used to perfect strangers or even acquaintances asking them personal questions, having never having been trained that it’s normal for other children. If you aren’t a parent, you have no reason to do anything except express friendly interest in what the child enjoys and let them lead in what they want to talk about. Though homeschooling is legal in all fifty states with varying requirements, there was a time when it was not and parents were threatened with removal of their children. Perhaps this history has affected the entire movement with a determined independent attitude as does the harassment that goes on in some school districts. Perhaps parents are too sensitive to criticism because of the past criticism they have experienced from family and friends who dislike their educational choices. Whatever the case may be, for those who school at home, their schooling is merely an extension of their private life. It cannot really be separated from the private details and is therefore a difficult topic to appropriately address unless the person asking feels like a safe person that you want to know the personal intricacies of your life. Or they simply have the time and genuine interest to hear an hour long discussion of how you choose to homeschool and why its different than the common expectation and why it’s not a national emergency that your eight year old boy is just learning to read. If you have questions on that one and you have an hour, I’d be happy to discuss it with you! I have been on the receiving end of some very harsh language about homeschool, spewed by people who don’t know me, my kids and anything about our circumstances. Everyone is entitled to their opinion and I’m entitled to ignore it if it is ill-informed and impertinent. Well, actually, I’m entitled to ignore it regardless, I hope I’m wise enough to listen if it is otherwise.
2- That kid honestly has no idea what to tell you when you ask what grade he is in.
This does not mean that he is behind. This does not mean that he never learns anything. This does not mean that he is afraid to talk to you. This does not mean that he doesn’t know his age.
What it does mean is that he is learning all the time. Learning is not a separate event that takes place in a specific location and is measured by seasons and calendars. He does not graduate from one class, one teacher, one room, one building when he has made progress. He merely keeps breathing, living, experiencing and tucking away knowledge as he goes. He may hide his current “school” book under the covers and read with a flashlight because he is too excited to wait until tomorrow. He continues gaining responsibility and opportunity as his skills improve and he may rarely take a test. In my home, we do not have a “school year” per say, but rather a daily requirement for living that includes reading, being read to, visiting the library, completing some math and language programs on the computer, watching science videos and reading books about science, experiencing different types of art, sometimes with a teacher and sometimes on our own and Wednesday music lessons. We take days “off” when we go to the dentist but I have had to find a dentist that can listen and answer kids (and my) questions about everything he is doing and why. We love hygienists-they are a wealth of information. And quite often, I find the kids hauling along a backpack full of books to read while we are at the dentist and insisting that we get home early because they have homework for their online writing class to finish and they don’t want to push their deadlines. Our days are for learning and that’s a lesson you don’t teach by force, you teach
by example.
3- I am not more patient than any other semi patient parent. I have not been gifted by the magic homeschool patience God with an ability beyond what any normal parent could bear. I pray daily for patience and by the Grace of God I am making progress. Slow progress. I am certainly a product of much practice in living with the small humans to whom I gave birth. This does not mean that it is easy for me to not have time in which to catch up on cleaning and laundry, get a part (or full) time job and make some money, use the restroom alone or any other thing that a parent may do if their children leave in the morning and some other responsible adult assumes charge of them for a few or a lot of hours during the day. I have an advantage over some moms who are left home in the mornings with all the small children as the older ones take off for school. My little kids are used to playing quietly in sister’s room with her special horses while she works on her math homework and when that one gets tired of sitting quietly, he might go find me making lunch and help me for awhile or go outside with big brother for awhile as he works on the fence. If there is an emergency, we are blessed with family close by and a great supply of “Leapfrog Letter Factory”, “Signing Time” and a great driving instruction video or “Great Architecture”. It amazes me how interesting my kids seem to find anything and everything. They spent an afternoon watching the driving instruction video over and over. I personally thought it would be rather dry but apparently not so! When I hear other parents say,”I would like to homeschool but I could never do that, I’m not patient enough and my kids wouldn’t learn anything.” I want to give them a gift certificate for a full body massage and then when they’ve finished and are walking out of the building I would whisper in their ear, “It doesn’t require perfect parents, just crazy ones.” The massage has nothing to do with the message- it’s just everyone needs a massage.
4- There is no one right way to raise a kid. There just isn’t. Their personality and interests are so different. There will be holes in their education, just like their friends. The purpose of schooling is to learn to think and problem solve. The ability to find the answers in life is a great thing and more desirable than getting perfect grades in every class- which is unlikely unless the student is very committed to a life time of extra credit and blessed enough to not get any really rotten teachers, and good tutors. There will be areas where kids struggle a bit more, regardless of where they do their learning.
5- I am deeply committed to doing the best I can for my children. I am certain that every parent feels the same. My best happens at home, if your best happens differently, good for you. There are times that I want to run away from home and eat a gallon of chocolate ice cream on a beach somewhere that has no math lessons, phonics lessons and no crying or whining or fighting. Maybe sometimes you do too.
As a mom and a human, I have a great number of interests and would love to discuss anything you know, any questions you have and anything I know/do that you might be interested in. I have a great amount of respect for the privacy of our homes and families and respect your way, your home and your family, may they be blessed.
In an age where the details of our private lives are on FaceBook and Twitter and InstaGram, why not more transparency in homeschool? Why not share the details of children’s education with all the world?
Let me ‘splain- no there is too much, let me sum up.
I have many children, more than a few and not as many as many of you but I think we can say many without being incorrect. These children happen to be schooled at home. It didn’t actually just “happen “ that way but for all intents and purposes and my literary license I’m going with it.
We live twenty five miles from the nearest town and forty from the town where I went to school and where my kids would be bussed should we have decided to send them to that school. We have some property and the blessing of having livestock, pets, four wheelers and plenty of chores. We grow a garden and attempt to spend some time outdoors instead of glued to our electronic devices. There are days where we are attentive to book work and online school programs, such as Khan ( love Khan). And there are also days when the vet comes and we all have school outside while the dog gets fixed and the colts are gelded and sometimes the weather is too gorgeous to do anything but run around like crazy people. At least that’s what the kids do and I can’t complain because they’re such cute crazy people.
This method of learning is new to some and there have been times that it makes people uncomfortable to see a kid at home during the day when he isn’t sick or hasn’t been to the dentist. That’s okay, it isn’t something that everyone is familiar with - like me trying to operate an android phone or eyelash curler thingies. Yes, this “thingies” word is an all purpose word that is used in my homeschool and derided by some ( like my husband, who would use the more appropriate word “tool” until he realized what I was talking about and then he would likely just leave the room. It doesn’t do to look too deeply into the ways of women, you know.)
When you undertake to do something differently you may encounter those who assume that because you choose to do something different than they that you are demeaning their choice, that you find them inferior in some way. And they do have a smallish point. You did find that you do value something about your choice over theirs, otherwise you would have made the same choice as they, right? Be it breastfeeding versus formula, disposable versus cloth, trade school versus college, jeans versus leggings, crunchy versus ...uh, not crunchy ? Or any other choice that we as parents get to make, there is room to make someone else uncomfortable. Perhaps your reasons for making your choice have more to do with circumstances and changing dynamics and less to do with fundamentals but perhaps not. This decision on schooling can make people uncomfortable and seeking to ease their discomfort. Sometimes the cure for the discomfort is to demean your choice back at ya. Citing studies of.....something negative, socialization (or the lack thereof) perhaps in an effort to prove something.
Seeking to remove discomfort is natural and expected, we all do it. Identifying the cause of the discomfort can prove very helpful in a way that avoiding it or denying it’s existence cannot. I find that when someone calls my good judgement into question, I hear an echo of my own doubts and fears as a parent. I am reminded of my shortcomings as a teacher and parent and become defensive, so it is easy for me to imagine that other parents may feel the same way.
Some parents may feel that you think they are inferior because they aren’t as committed to their children’s education as you (supposedly) are. Perhaps they think you feel “too good” for what they consider to be just fine for their kids. Whatever the case may be, our decisions as parents are a great trigger as other parents measure against our yardstick and we against theirs and everyone winds up feeling like they are found wanting.
So here are some things to know about homeschool from my personal perspective. This is, alas, merely a personal perspective as I am just one and am not really interested in chasing the funding to conduct studies to see if I’m normal.
1- By nature, homeschool is a private affair. This is not because we are trying to hide some juicy tidbit about how we are trapping the kids in the basement and only slipping them food on days that begin with “T” or any other horrible and despicable secret. It is simply that we are not used to sharing every detail of our kids’ growth with a lot of outside persons. There are no parent teacher conferences ( just parent-parent ones) and actually, there aren’t usually grades to groan over several times a year. There may well be subjects that collect their fair share of groans but this is not a group think session outside of the family. There are not staff meetings about behavior issues and the schooling is not funded by a public tax which deserves a public accounting for performance. Simply put, there are no middle men. If the materials are insufficient, the CFO makes adjustments to the grocery budget and the Christmas budget and shops the curriculum sales to remedy the deficiency. Much like our counterparts whose children attend public or private schools, homeschool parents do not release private information about grades, performance, behavioral issues or any other personal information that would interfere with our children’s progress. It may be tempting at times for an outside party to see if a child is learning ( especially if you have your doubts about the chosen method of schooling) by quizzing them about their progress, but I can tell you that, for any child to be quizzed about what they are learning is intrusive. They may well feel more like a Science Fair project or a social abnormality than was intended. Like their parents, they are not used to perfect strangers or even acquaintances asking them personal questions, having never having been trained that it’s normal for other children. If you aren’t a parent, you have no reason to do anything except express friendly interest in what the child enjoys and let them lead in what they want to talk about. Though homeschooling is legal in all fifty states with varying requirements, there was a time when it was not and parents were threatened with removal of their children. Perhaps this history has affected the entire movement with a determined independent attitude as does the harassment that goes on in some school districts. Perhaps parents are too sensitive to criticism because of the past criticism they have experienced from family and friends who dislike their educational choices. Whatever the case may be, for those who school at home, their schooling is merely an extension of their private life. It cannot really be separated from the private details and is therefore a difficult topic to appropriately address unless the person asking feels like a safe person that you want to know the personal intricacies of your life. Or they simply have the time and genuine interest to hear an hour long discussion of how you choose to homeschool and why its different than the common expectation and why it’s not a national emergency that your eight year old boy is just learning to read. If you have questions on that one and you have an hour, I’d be happy to discuss it with you! I have been on the receiving end of some very harsh language about homeschool, spewed by people who don’t know me, my kids and anything about our circumstances. Everyone is entitled to their opinion and I’m entitled to ignore it if it is ill-informed and impertinent. Well, actually, I’m entitled to ignore it regardless, I hope I’m wise enough to listen if it is otherwise.
2- That kid honestly has no idea what to tell you when you ask what grade he is in.
This does not mean that he is behind. This does not mean that he never learns anything. This does not mean that he is afraid to talk to you. This does not mean that he doesn’t know his age.
What it does mean is that he is learning all the time. Learning is not a separate event that takes place in a specific location and is measured by seasons and calendars. He does not graduate from one class, one teacher, one room, one building when he has made progress. He merely keeps breathing, living, experiencing and tucking away knowledge as he goes. He may hide his current “school” book under the covers and read with a flashlight because he is too excited to wait until tomorrow. He continues gaining responsibility and opportunity as his skills improve and he may rarely take a test. In my home, we do not have a “school year” per say, but rather a daily requirement for living that includes reading, being read to, visiting the library, completing some math and language programs on the computer, watching science videos and reading books about science, experiencing different types of art, sometimes with a teacher and sometimes on our own and Wednesday music lessons. We take days “off” when we go to the dentist but I have had to find a dentist that can listen and answer kids (and my) questions about everything he is doing and why. We love hygienists-they are a wealth of information. And quite often, I find the kids hauling along a backpack full of books to read while we are at the dentist and insisting that we get home early because they have homework for their online writing class to finish and they don’t want to push their deadlines. Our days are for learning and that’s a lesson you don’t teach by force, you teach
by example.
3- I am not more patient than any other semi patient parent. I have not been gifted by the magic homeschool patience God with an ability beyond what any normal parent could bear. I pray daily for patience and by the Grace of God I am making progress. Slow progress. I am certainly a product of much practice in living with the small humans to whom I gave birth. This does not mean that it is easy for me to not have time in which to catch up on cleaning and laundry, get a part (or full) time job and make some money, use the restroom alone or any other thing that a parent may do if their children leave in the morning and some other responsible adult assumes charge of them for a few or a lot of hours during the day. I have an advantage over some moms who are left home in the mornings with all the small children as the older ones take off for school. My little kids are used to playing quietly in sister’s room with her special horses while she works on her math homework and when that one gets tired of sitting quietly, he might go find me making lunch and help me for awhile or go outside with big brother for awhile as he works on the fence. If there is an emergency, we are blessed with family close by and a great supply of “Leapfrog Letter Factory”, “Signing Time” and a great driving instruction video or “Great Architecture”. It amazes me how interesting my kids seem to find anything and everything. They spent an afternoon watching the driving instruction video over and over. I personally thought it would be rather dry but apparently not so! When I hear other parents say,”I would like to homeschool but I could never do that, I’m not patient enough and my kids wouldn’t learn anything.” I want to give them a gift certificate for a full body massage and then when they’ve finished and are walking out of the building I would whisper in their ear, “It doesn’t require perfect parents, just crazy ones.” The massage has nothing to do with the message- it’s just everyone needs a massage.
4- There is no one right way to raise a kid. There just isn’t. Their personality and interests are so different. There will be holes in their education, just like their friends. The purpose of schooling is to learn to think and problem solve. The ability to find the answers in life is a great thing and more desirable than getting perfect grades in every class- which is unlikely unless the student is very committed to a life time of extra credit and blessed enough to not get any really rotten teachers, and good tutors. There will be areas where kids struggle a bit more, regardless of where they do their learning.
5- I am deeply committed to doing the best I can for my children. I am certain that every parent feels the same. My best happens at home, if your best happens differently, good for you. There are times that I want to run away from home and eat a gallon of chocolate ice cream on a beach somewhere that has no math lessons, phonics lessons and no crying or whining or fighting. Maybe sometimes you do too.
As a mom and a human, I have a great number of interests and would love to discuss anything you know, any questions you have and anything I know/do that you might be interested in. I have a great amount of respect for the privacy of our homes and families and respect your way, your home and your family, may they be blessed.
Wednesday, October 4, 2017
These Are The Times That Try Men's Souls
In the midst of the commotion of living in the middle of America in it's disintegration period, I find myself frequently shaking my head. When the news blares and the tears fall for strangers who were alive last week and dead now- that would be as strange still were it not for their famous and brutal demise, I wonder what my great grand parents would have thought. The tragedies of their day were all they knew, new to them as a Twin Tower or a Vegas are for me. Their tears fell and their hearts reached out from their chests in a wish to somehow comfort those who fell in their days. They too shook their heads and wondered what the world was coming to. They wondered how the world could get any worse and if there would be a world to wake up to for their children and grandchildren.
I don't know what the future holds nor would I deign to ask anyone but God. So far, He doesn't seem to think to necessary to fret about, just prepare for. This I do know, that these are the times that try men's souls. So was it designed to be. The challenges of our time are perhaps unlike any other, but so too are the blessings unlike any other. The opportunity to reach out to God and allow His mercy in our lives has never been greater. We have at our fingertips a relationship with Jesus Christ that is unlike any other relationship that we have experienced. His grace is there for us at every moment. In the midst of commotion there is a sweet peace that can fill the heavens and and our hearts- one as easily as the other. There cannot be anyone else responsible for it but ourselves. This experience cannot be given by virtue of another's sincerity, dedication or determination- only our own soul can ask and receive. So please ask, please pray, please insist until the answers come that you seek. Get real and be serious with God- there is no substitute. And when He answers, accept it. There have been times that I asked sincerely and then was tempted to reject the answer because it was not what I expected, was harder than I anticipated and required more commitment than I thought I was capable of giving. There have been times I have been unsure where the answers were going, when I couldn't see the destination and I wondered which train I had boarded and if perhaps I had been standing in the wrong station to begin with. Take heart, God intends to give you more than you asked for. He cannot bless you enough- though at times we might feel stretched beyond what we feel is necessary, He intends to give you greater blessings than your imagination can conjure. There is hope in this world of darkness and pain and it doesn't come from legislation, social reform, news broadcasters or even a hurting people who come together in times of need. Those who come together in times of need are a symptom of the hope that is in us through Christ Jesus. We have brought with us to this Earth a love for our fellow man that Christ showed us is stronger than any force.
If you never have, take some time to quiet your mind and ask for God to speak to you, to give you peace, to fill your soul and answer your heart's questions. If you have before, perhaps many times before, take the time again to invite peace for yourself and in behalf of others. This world will be a better place.
I don't know what the future holds nor would I deign to ask anyone but God. So far, He doesn't seem to think to necessary to fret about, just prepare for. This I do know, that these are the times that try men's souls. So was it designed to be. The challenges of our time are perhaps unlike any other, but so too are the blessings unlike any other. The opportunity to reach out to God and allow His mercy in our lives has never been greater. We have at our fingertips a relationship with Jesus Christ that is unlike any other relationship that we have experienced. His grace is there for us at every moment. In the midst of commotion there is a sweet peace that can fill the heavens and and our hearts- one as easily as the other. There cannot be anyone else responsible for it but ourselves. This experience cannot be given by virtue of another's sincerity, dedication or determination- only our own soul can ask and receive. So please ask, please pray, please insist until the answers come that you seek. Get real and be serious with God- there is no substitute. And when He answers, accept it. There have been times that I asked sincerely and then was tempted to reject the answer because it was not what I expected, was harder than I anticipated and required more commitment than I thought I was capable of giving. There have been times I have been unsure where the answers were going, when I couldn't see the destination and I wondered which train I had boarded and if perhaps I had been standing in the wrong station to begin with. Take heart, God intends to give you more than you asked for. He cannot bless you enough- though at times we might feel stretched beyond what we feel is necessary, He intends to give you greater blessings than your imagination can conjure. There is hope in this world of darkness and pain and it doesn't come from legislation, social reform, news broadcasters or even a hurting people who come together in times of need. Those who come together in times of need are a symptom of the hope that is in us through Christ Jesus. We have brought with us to this Earth a love for our fellow man that Christ showed us is stronger than any force.
If you never have, take some time to quiet your mind and ask for God to speak to you, to give you peace, to fill your soul and answer your heart's questions. If you have before, perhaps many times before, take the time again to invite peace for yourself and in behalf of others. This world will be a better place.
Monday, March 6, 2017
Healed
Wallowing in despair,
I cried.
My burden and my heart
So heavy.
"There is only grief
No rest for me
Oh help me, now,
Oh Lord" I sighed.
My sister came
Her lamp in hand
Her tender voice spoke
Love and friendship.
She offered light,
It warmed my heart
And filled my eyes with hope.
But she could not stay,
She must away, to family and home
They called.
And all too soon,
The light, it dimmed
And left my rooms so cold.
My brother too, he came
On errand from The Lord.
To share words,
Of comfort , faith and love.
But with his parting,
'Er his shadow left my door
The voice of darkness
Spoke once more;
"The light, it cannot save you
It leaves you hopeless, yearning..
I'm always here, you're not enough
Despair is all
You have in store
Change is hopeless,
Your efforts,
Puny
Worthless
You'll always be alone."
"This Jesus
That they speak of,
Who is he?
Where is he now?
Oh? He can? But will he save you? How?"
The voice drones on,
Together with
My stomach churning.
I cried out
"Liar! It can't be true,
I've felt it in my heart
The warmth, the light, the burning!"
The laughter from the darkness rang
Rasping in my ears
The voice reviewed my sins
And faults,
My weaknesses,
My fears
And I , ashamed,
Sat hopeless, lost
And all my thoughts just turning, turning,
Until a tiny voice,
A thought
Swam upward from the pile.
It pushed gently to the front
And said,
Without pretense or guile
"What if, what if you tried?
What if you asked and He replied?"
What if this bully in your mind
Is only that? A bully and a cipher?
Disembodied and feeding on your flame, your fire?"
My confidence,
It drew deep breath
And taking heart, I spoke.
I told Him all, as with a friend,
My hardest, deepest
Pain.
I told of childhood fears and monsters, haunting still,
Of words I spoke and actions done ,
in shame
I emptied out deep wells of darkness
Confusing,
unexplained.
Looking on with kindness,
His face so calm and still,
He asked if I would give it all
I quickly said
"I will....but how?"
"I cannot, will not steal from you,
These things you've suffered through,
You've learned and felt, through
This darkness, chosen
But freedom is my gift to you."
"There is no other way to learn,
And yet,
To choose to live
You'll give me the burden and the guilt,
I'll take them,
Turn them light
With this Gift I freely
Give!"
I looked inside
And in my heart
I saw the life, the lessons
I had gained
The precious truths
so hardly won,
the pain and purpose now explained.
The laughter from the jeering
dark had turned to gnashing teeth
and anger stark
and yet,
with my gratitude it calmed,
the storm no longer lingered on
the gift erased my hatred,
all of my fears
now gone.
There reigned in space and time
amazement, love and joy-
replacing darkness with the light
healing my soul with grace divine.
*I feel humbled and very inadequate to try and describe the depth of love and gratitude I feel to Jesus Christ, my Savior. My efforts feel somewhat like a cross between Dr. Suess and a large Victorian lady who imagines herself a great poet and will prove it over tea and her relatives better judgement but express it I must, despite my shortcomings. I hope the feeling triumphs over the spelling and punctuation errors. Glory to God and the credit for the mistakes to me.
I cried.
My burden and my heart
So heavy.
"There is only grief
No rest for me
Oh help me, now,
Oh Lord" I sighed.
My sister came
Her lamp in hand
Her tender voice spoke
Love and friendship.
She offered light,
It warmed my heart
And filled my eyes with hope.
But she could not stay,
She must away, to family and home
They called.
And all too soon,
The light, it dimmed
And left my rooms so cold.
My brother too, he came
On errand from The Lord.
To share words,
Of comfort , faith and love.
But with his parting,
'Er his shadow left my door
The voice of darkness
Spoke once more;
"The light, it cannot save you
It leaves you hopeless, yearning..
I'm always here, you're not enough
Despair is all
You have in store
Change is hopeless,
Your efforts,
Puny
Worthless
You'll always be alone."
"This Jesus
That they speak of,
Who is he?
Where is he now?
Oh? He can? But will he save you? How?"
The voice drones on,
Together with
My stomach churning.
I cried out
"Liar! It can't be true,
I've felt it in my heart
The warmth, the light, the burning!"
The laughter from the darkness rang
Rasping in my ears
The voice reviewed my sins
And faults,
My weaknesses,
My fears
And I , ashamed,
Sat hopeless, lost
And all my thoughts just turning, turning,
Until a tiny voice,
A thought
Swam upward from the pile.
It pushed gently to the front
And said,
Without pretense or guile
"What if, what if you tried?
What if you asked and He replied?"
What if this bully in your mind
Is only that? A bully and a cipher?
Disembodied and feeding on your flame, your fire?"
My confidence,
It drew deep breath
And taking heart, I spoke.
I told Him all, as with a friend,
My hardest, deepest
Pain.
I told of childhood fears and monsters, haunting still,
Of words I spoke and actions done ,
in shame
I emptied out deep wells of darkness
Confusing,
unexplained.
Looking on with kindness,
His face so calm and still,
He asked if I would give it all
I quickly said
"I will....but how?"
"I cannot, will not steal from you,
These things you've suffered through,
You've learned and felt, through
This darkness, chosen
But freedom is my gift to you."
"There is no other way to learn,
And yet,
To choose to live
You'll give me the burden and the guilt,
I'll take them,
Turn them light
With this Gift I freely
Give!"
I looked inside
And in my heart
I saw the life, the lessons
I had gained
The precious truths
so hardly won,
the pain and purpose now explained.
The laughter from the jeering
dark had turned to gnashing teeth
and anger stark
and yet,
with my gratitude it calmed,
the storm no longer lingered on
the gift erased my hatred,
all of my fears
now gone.
There reigned in space and time
amazement, love and joy-
replacing darkness with the light
healing my soul with grace divine.
*I feel humbled and very inadequate to try and describe the depth of love and gratitude I feel to Jesus Christ, my Savior. My efforts feel somewhat like a cross between Dr. Suess and a large Victorian lady who imagines herself a great poet and will prove it over tea and her relatives better judgement but express it I must, despite my shortcomings. I hope the feeling triumphs over the spelling and punctuation errors. Glory to God and the credit for the mistakes to me.
I've Got This Beautiful Friend
This wonderful friend of mine is sad, with haunted eyes. She lost a child and life will never be the same. Would she want it any different?
Let me explain. Of course I assume she wants it all back, the companionship of her family and the joy of his presence. She wants the sweetness of every good memory and she would maybe even take back the bad times, the hard times and the sadness just to have him, just to have the chance for things to get better, to allow time to swing the pendulum back to the good. If life were to be happy would that mean she didn't care, didn't miss him? Would that mean that he was really gone....if she weren't sad?
Does her heart cry out to God, "Why do you hate me?! How could you do this to me."
"Why couldn't I love him enough? Enough to keep him safe?" Or maybe "Enough to give me peace, knowing that no matter what, he knew I loved him."
Perhaps she walks alone in a world full of people who have no idea of the heartache and sorrow that she drags behind her like a Grand Canyon suitcase. She smiles at those she meets but it's always there, a chasm big enough to see from space. It's full of memories of the tiny boy who first held her heart and then her finger and then her every waking moment. Of the boy that held her breath as he rode his bike like he would never crash when she knew better. It's full of his crazy smile and great love of the outdoors and all the heartache when he struggled with math and choices and friends and girls and more choices. It's full of every time she wished she could take away the pain and agony and every time she wished you could still spank him even when he's taller than you.
And maybe sometimes, for just a moment, when she opens her eyes in the morning after a beautiful dream she can still feel him there and she forgets that he's gone and the world feels right again.
I see you, my friend. I see that Canyon behind you. Some days it's hovering in the distance and some days it's under your feet. Some days you fear a misstep will allow it to swallow you. And I don't know what to say- it's a private canyon and sacred. I don't share it, I don't know it like you do. I don't really understand and I don't know how to tell you I can feel it and see it around you. And sometimes I'm afraid that if I say it aloud you'll think I'm crazy. But please know that you aren't really alone, the walls of pain and darkness that divide us from each other cloud our minds and we believe the lies that no one cares, no one understands. I may not fully understand but by dang, I sure want to try.
*i woke this morning with one particular friend on my mind and could not go back to sleep but as I contemplated on what I wished I could say to her I realized that the list of friends, family, loved ones and acquaintances who also carry this same burden of sorrow and worry for the living and the dead is too long to even comprehend. My love goes out to you in your own sorrow that the eye can't see.
Let me explain. Of course I assume she wants it all back, the companionship of her family and the joy of his presence. She wants the sweetness of every good memory and she would maybe even take back the bad times, the hard times and the sadness just to have him, just to have the chance for things to get better, to allow time to swing the pendulum back to the good. If life were to be happy would that mean she didn't care, didn't miss him? Would that mean that he was really gone....if she weren't sad?
Does her heart cry out to God, "Why do you hate me?! How could you do this to me."
"Why couldn't I love him enough? Enough to keep him safe?" Or maybe "Enough to give me peace, knowing that no matter what, he knew I loved him."
Perhaps she walks alone in a world full of people who have no idea of the heartache and sorrow that she drags behind her like a Grand Canyon suitcase. She smiles at those she meets but it's always there, a chasm big enough to see from space. It's full of memories of the tiny boy who first held her heart and then her finger and then her every waking moment. Of the boy that held her breath as he rode his bike like he would never crash when she knew better. It's full of his crazy smile and great love of the outdoors and all the heartache when he struggled with math and choices and friends and girls and more choices. It's full of every time she wished she could take away the pain and agony and every time she wished you could still spank him even when he's taller than you.
And maybe sometimes, for just a moment, when she opens her eyes in the morning after a beautiful dream she can still feel him there and she forgets that he's gone and the world feels right again.
I see you, my friend. I see that Canyon behind you. Some days it's hovering in the distance and some days it's under your feet. Some days you fear a misstep will allow it to swallow you. And I don't know what to say- it's a private canyon and sacred. I don't share it, I don't know it like you do. I don't really understand and I don't know how to tell you I can feel it and see it around you. And sometimes I'm afraid that if I say it aloud you'll think I'm crazy. But please know that you aren't really alone, the walls of pain and darkness that divide us from each other cloud our minds and we believe the lies that no one cares, no one understands. I may not fully understand but by dang, I sure want to try.
*i woke this morning with one particular friend on my mind and could not go back to sleep but as I contemplated on what I wished I could say to her I realized that the list of friends, family, loved ones and acquaintances who also carry this same burden of sorrow and worry for the living and the dead is too long to even comprehend. My love goes out to you in your own sorrow that the eye can't see.
Sunday, August 14, 2016
To Live
Preface
This was written after I read an article by a former abortion clinic nurse whose life was changed and healed. I share cautiously as my understanding of abortion procedure is limited and I don't have the heart to learn more details, nor the stomach for it. Certain assumptions are made and hopefully the message is clear if the knowledge of the writer is faulty.
There was a pulling. First a slight tugging. Sort of a gentle, tentative, testing pulling. Then more firm pulling.
She really didn't like it.
The warm comfort, so familiar, was disrupted as the cold hardness on her feet pulled...demanding and insistent. It became painful.
She thrashed around looking for comfort, to escape. Then the cold and a bright light above her shone down as she reached frantically for the warm protection of her mother. Her tiny hands and arms moving without strength.
"This one looks great."
A tremendous pressure and slicing pain consumed her. Her heart cried out in fear and pain. She longed for Gloria.
Gloria
The little girl danced impatiently. Her mommy and daddy had gone to the hospital and she couldn't wait until they came home.
The sun shone brightly outside but she couldn't even play, there was too much to think about. She knew from her little friend, Kelly, that there were blankets and clothes and bows and even some not so fun things like crying and waiting for stinky diapers to get fixed but she was willing to put up with anything just to finally have her baby sister.
No one had told her directly but she knew. Everyone knows that when Mommies get big round tummies and feel yucky and tired that there's a baby in there. Kelly's mom had acted just the same as her mommy and she was always putting her hand on her tummy. Gloria hadn't quite worked out how you got the baby out of there and Kelly didn't seem to know either, but it didn't really matter.
She had prayed and prayed ever since she was little and had asked her mom and dad for one for her birthday but she never thought she would really get one! They must be planning to surprise her, she thought. Daddy was always talking about how much things cost and he said babies were too expensive. She had heard them talking about how much her Academy would cost next year and Kelly had told her that they were always buying something for her baby so Gloria was surprised they had changed their mind.
But Melanie had come to babysit her and she heard them give a number for a hospital stuck between "macaroni for dinner" and "Remember to brush her teeth, okay?"
Kelly said her mom went to the hospital to get her baby out but Gloria never expected it to be so soon, she thought it would take much longer to grow her baby and Kelly's mom had been much fatter.
She settled down by the window to wait and would not be coaxed away.
Courtney
She had said she would. She had to stick with it. There really was no other choice. When she thought of Gloria she wished there were some other way and dashed away a tear from her cheek with an impatient hand. This had to be.
There was no use thinking about it anymore. Don't think about how tiny Gloria's hands and feet had been or of her pleading for a baby sister.
They didn't even know if was a girl. The ultrasound tech had asked, hesitantly, for he knew their plans but still was so used to parents hugging and exchanging joyous looks over such news that he couldn't help but try. She had wavered and almost looked but Jack had been firm and decisive.
"No. just check the organs and gestational age" and the appointment had moved on. Courtney wondered if she had spoken it might changed his mind somehow and again cursed herself for not saying something....the right thing.
She steeled herself and pulled the conversation back, reliving his words. "we really can't afford another one. We're maxed, Courtney! Who gets pregnant on the pill? You almost died with Gloria and I'm not going through that again. It's not worth it ...and besides,the fetus will be used for research , just think of how many people will be benefitted. To us it would be just a burden but it could bless so many people."
So many thoughts had played through her mind as he spoke.
That they had decided on one child was true, but she hadn't realized at the time how much joy she would feel with Gloria. The doctors had been very worried about her but her OB assured her that a second pregnancy had a low risk for the same complications. Placental abruption in labor is rare and unlikely to happen twice. Cesarean delivery would not likely be needed in subsequent pregnancies. At the time she had brushed his assurances off, for they were only having one, anyway . She had waited too long to have her tubes tied, her dislike of hospitals and doctors after her scare in the delivery room was marked and she still had nightmares.
All of Jack's reason's were not insurrmountable but the one thing she couldn't, wouldn't risk kept her in her chair in the waiting room.
His recovery had to be considered. He was finally stable and functioning. He had promised to be faithful to her, his meds seemed balanced and he was much more patient with Gloria . His PTSD seemed under control but she knew how little it took to set him off. He hadn't gotten out of control with his anger for months and was finally acting like the husband she knew he could be and she wasn't willing to sacrifice that stability for anything. If this baby was his idea or he were excited that would be different....
If there was one thing childhood had taught her it was that parents should scrifice to stay together . Gloria needed a mom and a dad. She knew how it felt to be abandoned and she wouldn't let that happen to Gloria.
Her hand rested unconsciously on her stomach. She had struggled, even with Jack's ressurance that his friend would perform the procedure. He knew him from his time in the military and the man had offered to help him when he heard about their situation. Still, she felt far from comfortable with this man she had only met once. The memory came unbidden of Gloria , a look of peace and wonder chasing quickly through her eyes- quickly hidden so that Mommy wouldn't know she knew and her chubby little hand reaching tentatively for her stomach and then drawing back as she caught her mother's eye. It had broken Courtney's heart. The reason, the real reason she had waited so long was still there at home, waiting. The reason she had prayed to ..someone...for another way.
And she remembered her prayers as a little girl that God would bring her Daddy back. She had prayed for years and then she had finally decided that God must hate her because he never did.
But Gloria had whispered so softly, so quietly, next to her Mommy asleep on the couch. She had put out her hand so carefully next to her rounded belly and the words, "Thank you, God" had crept from her mouth.
Courtney coud hardly breathe, surely God couldn't deny her little girl. Surely a way would open for her to have a husband who loved her and Gloria could have a father and Jack would change his mind .... But she knew inside that he wouldn't change for she remembered what her hesitation had caused already. When he sensed her reluctance he had frightened her with the intensity of his anger. It had been a long time since she saw that look in his eye and she knew she didn't have the courage. It was Gloria's baby dream or her life of happiness, security and opportunity. Gloria ws just too young to understand what was at stake here. She would understand better when she grew up, Courtney told herself. She was so young, only four, and she would forget. She had to. A deep breath and Jack's hand on her elbow renewed her resolve to keep her safety and security as she made it from the chair to the door that led beyond the waiting room.
"You're 28 weeks?"
The nurse eyed her.
"That's right." A dark weight settled into her chest and she walked forward into the inevitable.
Gloria listened to Melanie on the phone with her boyfriend.
"Yeah, I'll be home in a few more hours. No, she's having a medical procedure done but she'll home tonight. Okay, see you then. Bye."
She wondered at the strange ways of adults. Why don't they just say what they mean? Maybe they were just trying to keep the secret of her surprise.
Quietly, with no notice from the busy world outside and a crowd of busy professionals just doing their job and hiding any sorrow they might have felt , Gloria's hope died on the table. She never had any name spoken, though what name she was given by a little girl may still live inside her heart if not forgotten in the clouds of experience and emotion that comes with living. Her perfect beautiful light left her pain-filled tiny body.
It was divided, separated by professionals plying the tools of their trade in providing a perfect brain her, a liver there..
"Don't damage the wares, slice carefully for with your soul you pay your way."
Don't hate me
The doctor executioner
The nurse holding tiny dead hope in pieces
The deliveryman carefully, quickly juggling the expensive wares of death
The mother, trapped in dark patterns, trading hope for endless regret, with deep eyes full of longing that find only visions of tiny feet and perfect hands she'll never hold.
The father running from his demons and responsibility ,inability and pain.
Don't hate me. Help me.
Forgive me for judging-
the outsider looking in who thinks you don't care because only a monster would kill their child, not understanding that no one will judge more harshly than one's self.
Forgive me for thinking that if I walked your road I would have done better.
Love me
I am a person
Protect me
Give me a name
Give me a voice
For though someday I may move mountains, sing the songs of the heart, save a life or be the greatest love of someone's life, today all I can do is love you.
Please love me.
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