Simple, yes, but not easy...

My Mother's Day gift to myself was a new book:  It's (not that) Complicated:  How to Relate to Boys in a Healthy, Sane and Biblical Way by Anna Sofia and Elizabeth Botkin.  This is a book about boy-girl relationships.  A purity book, if you will.  This may not seem like much of a gift for Mom, but it is.  I have a great desire to understand this issue.  I didn't get it when I was a young adult.  Nowadays, my kids come to ME for counsel.  I have more experience, and yet I flounder.

The girls and I have become connoisseurs of purity books.  I used to think if we were raising our kids right we would not need all the "purity paraphernalia".  I still don't think we need 'all' of it, but we get confused and allow appetites to lead.  Keeping to a biblical path is tough!  

I won't list all the books we have read but this book seems to be one of the best.  (This is a book for girls.  I do not have a recommendation for a boy book.)  I am only halfway through it.  This is because in the last twenty-four hours or so, in between church and Mother's Day activities, both of my older daughters read it cover-to-cover!  I was surprised at how quickly they inhaled it.  It is a long book! 

I appreciate the clear intelligence voice of the authors, two single girls, sisters in their early twenties.  This is a thoughtful, meaty read.

A quote:

We both walked into this boy-conscious season of life with our fair share of questions, anxieties, and confusions about relationships with boys.  How-- or rather who-- to be around boys was a big issue for us.  After hearing stories and questions from hundreds of young women around the world since then, we've come to realize that this is possibly THE big issue for young women.  In fact, we've come to believe that, most often, this is the issue that reveals who a girl truly is.  Who or what is she living for?  What is important to her?  What is her compelling desire?

(emphasis original)

The gist of their message is to focus on Christ and how He sees people.  These authors walk the fine line of encouraging girls without dismissing boys.  One chapter is entitled, "Boys are people, too!" with the subtitle, "Learning to See Boys the way God Sees Them".

Other chapter titles include:

*Why We're Interested in Boys
(and Why that is a Good Thing)

*Wounding Friend or Kissing Enemy?
(Reforming our Philosophy of Relationships)

*Slaying the Inner Vamp
(When the Female of the Species is Deadlier than the Male)

*That's Why You Have Parents
(How to Draw Strength, Wisdom and Protection from Your Father and Mother)

*Rules of Engagement
(Practical Tips on Interaction and Conversation)

(The entire table of contents as well as chapter excerpts available at this link.)

One valuable point they make is that flirting with boys and shunning boys are two sides of the same self-centered coin.  We had never thought of it that way before.

Did I mention it is a meaty read?  They reference Shakespeare several times in the first chapter.  This alone sold my kids.  They get tired of books that assume their main activities are texting and chatting on FB.  However, the title of the book is from a relationship status available on Facebook!  And there is another balancing act:  being in the world but not of the world.

I haven't finished reading yet, but I had to throw it out as a possibility for any other families treading the minefield of young adult friendships.

*Note:  As I've read further, I've noticed some references to absolute predestination.  Our family does not believe the Bible teaches that God predestinated events and actions of people, although He does providentially intervene in our lives.  We don't believe God ordained the specific men that our girls will marry (if they marry).  We do believe human choice (sinful or righteous), and even chance*, definitely influence events.  Without going too far into it, we believe the Bible (Romans 8 especially) teaches that God predestinated a people.  Not everything.  Oh, He knew what was going to happen.  But foreknowledge is different from omnipresence.  Foreknowledge implies an intimate knowledge, as in loving family relationship.  I may be explaining this badly.  But we do not believe in absolute predestination of all things, although we do believe God predestinated His people, whom He foreknew.

This takes away from the helpfulness of the book somewhat, but not too much.

*It seems to me that what we call "chance" is actually the consequences of past sin coming to bear upon us.  God does not always intervene.  Sometimes He uses a situation (caused by sinning sinners, which could be any one of us) to teach us that His grace is sufficient for us.  It may not be our sin, or even the sin of anyone we actually know, and it may be sin that took place hundreds or even thousands of years ago and is still reverberating... so it feels like chance.  Sort of like Chaos Theory.  I'm getting metaphysical here.  I could be wrong, but that's the way it seems to me.

Devilish v. Heavenly Motivators

Mr. Andrew Kern, whom I greatly respect, addressed this subject in a blog post .  An excerpt:

In our godless age, we are convinced behaviorists. We don’t believe in the great mystery of the will, only in appetites. So we stimulate behavior in our students through rewards and punishments and figure that’s all we have to offer. 

This is, of all psychological doctrines, perhaps the most Satanic, for it forces us to imitate the Great Manipulator in the way we govern the souls of our children.

At book club last night we went through the fifth chapter of CM's third volume.  There, CM rejects some of the psychologies of her day as she seeks a psychology that includes the whole man.  Psychology is interesting.  It wants to examine man, but because it also wants to be a science, it cannot go further than the material aspect.  And, as CM points out (quoting noted psychologist William James), "...the waters of metaphysical criticism leak [in] at every joint."

Kern, discussing proper authority, says both intimidation and seduction are devilish motivators.  He recommends we don our proper mantles of authority as fathers, mothers, teachers.  But what are the heavenly motivators?

But the wisdom that is from above is first pure, then peaceable,gentle, and easy to be intreated, full of mercy and good fruits, without partiality, and without hypocrisy.

It is not about getting the student to do things.  It is about speaking to the soul of the child, beckoning to him to rise up and do what he knows is right. Mr. Kern again:

They have a will, though it is underfed and neglected. It cannot be controlled, for it is free. But it can be awakened and beckoned. 

Will you beckon with the Authority of God or the vanity of the Enemy?

Have I faith enough to beckon the will rather than tempt the appetites?

Chores

Sneezy: Hey, someone stole our dishes!

Happy: They ain't stole. They're hid in the cupboard.

Bashful: My cup's been washed. Sugar's gone.

Happy:  Something's cooking. Smells good.

Grumpy: Don't touch it, you fools! Might be poison. See? It's witch's brew.

--from Disney's Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs

I could never make chore schedules work at my house for more than a couple months.  I looked for a good schedule for years (wrote my own and also used others I found for free or in helpful household organizer books) before I defaulted to another way.  I no longer assign weekly chores.  The kids are responsible for their personal chores-- they do their own laundry and take care of their own rooms, and they take turns cleaning out the cat's litter box-- and then I expect them to pitch in for around thirty minutes per day when we are home.

Everyone that is home helps.  I tell the kids what I need done and either assign or let them pick the task  they will do.  I only list what needs doing right then.  (I do have a sort-of system for what to clean when:  if I can't stand it anymore, it takes priority.  If everything is in relatively good condition, I check with Flylady to see what Zone she is on this week.)  If someone is not home, they do not have to do the half-hour of chores.  They are already working, either at a class or at a job.

My kids are age 11 and up.  I have more free time than they do in the mornings.  They have constant schoolwork while I have free moments in between them needing my help.  A little over a year ago I realized the landscape of our day had changed. It seemed silly not to dust or tidy the bathroom because that was So-and-so's chore.  I was available to do it and they were working on schoolwork.  I didn't want to give them the idea that it is okay to neglect a needful task if it's 'not my job'.

Sometimes I am otherwise engaged in the late afternoon.  If that happens, I have one of the girls make dinner.  After dinner, whoever does not have an activity does the dishes.  If we are all home, I ask the person that seems to have had the easiest day to do the dishes, and usually I help.  I generally don't take no for an answer.  I do listen respectfully to appeals, but unless the kid really has a point, I say thanks for the input and please do the chore.  You eat, you work.

Some weeks this means we don't get much beyond dishes, bathrooms, laundry and basic vacuuming.  I'm okay with that.  Other weeks we get plenty of detailed cleaning done, which is good.  Those are my favorite weeks.

The biggest drawback to this way is that I have to keep asking for help.  Some day I hope we will all do what needs doing when it needs doing without being asked.  I'm still figuring out whether this method encourages that.

Housework is never-ending, especially since we are in our house all the time.  We eat and sleep here, we do school here, I teach other students here.  There is always some project.  I want our house to be clean, but I want it to be relaxed too.  If you come to visit, you will probably find dusty picture frames, although not this week.  (I dusted them while watching Inception on Friday night.)  Things will not be perfectly clean, but hopefully we will be able to fully engage in your visit.  I would like to honor our guests with a company-ready house, and do so as often as I can.  Our whole family enjoys a clean house, too.  But sometimes we just can't manage it and still be civil.  Sometimes the most important thing is playing Monopoly and forgetting about the dishes in the sink.

I daresay we could play Monopoly after everyone pitches in and does the dishes.  That would be the best solution, but I'm not there yet.  Hopefully soon.  I want to keep my home tidy and welcoming.  I also want to teach my daughters the hidden art of making a warm, inviting home.  Throwing away the chore chart and going with something more dynamic appears to be one step (hopefully not the only one) in the transition.  It may be a normal transition in a home with tweens and teens.  That's where we are right now.

Found this today...

A ten-year-old's attempt to relate to the world through scheduling. :D

Teusday

1. wake up
2. have quiet time
3. have breakfast
4. Practice Piano
5. Do schoolwork
6. Take a break
7. Shcool with Mom
8. Play with doll
9. Eat Diner
10. go to bed
11. Read
12. go to sleep
13. Dream

(The child who wrote this is no longer ten.)

Encouragement

I sent the following note to a dear, sweet mother of two primary students and one toddler child who expressed frustration and sorrow for her struggling efforts the other day. Then I realized I know other moms with kids in the early elementary and toddler/preschool years that might like to hear about our journey, so here it is:

Dear _____,

I wanted to let you know that I was standing right in your shoes seven years ago. My daughters were 9, 6 and 3. I felt guilt for the time I didn't spend with the 3yo, frustration with the 6yo because she simply *would not* learn how to read, and exhaustion trying to keep up with the 9yo who was extremely curious about the world and wanted to read everything before I could preread it.

It was a tough time. People told me, "These years pass so quickly. They don't stay small forever. Enjoy it while you can."

I thought, "I *know* these years pass quickly, but I need to get through *today*." I even felt guilty that I wasn't enjoying their younger years more!

Fast-forward seven years. I have three children who are almost 16, 13 and 10. They are independent, intelligent, and fun. I did some things right, and many things wrong (including yelling and the manipulative mama guilt trip). I cried out to the Lord, and many times felt like I couldn't pray. I learned to put little islands of calm into each day-- a promise that we would definitely read a chapter from a favorite book (with no narration), a trip to the park after violin lesson every week, a day in which we did no chores but the necessary. I learned to evaluate what went well and what needed tweaking—without a self-inflicted, judgmental guilt-trip/pity-party combo—at the end/beginning of each term, and to adjust to the reality of our immediate situation, appreciating idealistic scenarios, but understanding that sometimes they just aren’t practical.

It's a lot to think about. At one point in those elementary years (I think it was the year my youngest began Year 0), I confessed to a friend that I just *could not* do this. She laughingly said, "You know we're crazy, right?" Then she suggested that I stop grabbing guilt out of the universe and go easier on myself.

I want to suggest that you stop grabbing guilt out of the universe and go easy on yourself.

I try hard not to vent at my kids when I get frustrated or overwhelmed, but when it happens, I humbly ask their forgiveness. And move on. They know their mom is not perfect. Sometimes it takes a day or two for me to climb down from my 'mad' enough to talk to them about it, but the Lord doesn't let me rest until I have made reparation. Then He wants me to move on as well. God doesn't want us dwelling on our sinful parts. Go forth and sin no more, right? Forgetting those things that are behind, we press for the mark of the high calling in Christ Jesus. He paid for those sins. They are as far away as the East is from the West.

One time we were visiting in the home of friends who also homeschool. Her oldest son had been having some behavior issues, and the evening had been rather bumpy as a result. I will never forget the prayer she prayed as we sat down to dinner. "Lord, please redeem this evening."

He redeems our efforts. He knows our frame, that we are dust. He knows we need Him in order for anything good to grow.

I *so* feel your pain. I have been there many times. As the girls get more independent and less in need of constant supervision, puberty, teenage hormones and college preparations come into the mix. But God is faithful. He has done so much with my girls. They are fascinating and funny and smart. They certainly have their flaws, but I am amazed at what the Lord has wrought. My oldest is getting through college testing with flying colors (we've done living books all the way through-- ha!), and my younger two are blossoming and revealing their potential in spite of my mistakes. They are His kids, too. :)

Blessings, sweet mother! Rest assured that "no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should, and after all, you are just one woman-- a person, not superhuman after all." Keep your eyes on your Maker, abide in Him, and He will give you the desires of your heart.

With Love,
Katie

And the Days Go By

I'm revamping my teacher's binder for the new school year, and I just realized I do not need to keep the Alphabet Island character cards in there anymore. All of the girls are past working on phonics with Innocent "I", Tired "T" and Hopeful "H".

Bittersweet.

:hums: "Sunrise, sunset..."

Such big girls I have. Such persons they are. Oy.

Mothers

When I was growing up, my grandmother called deep-felt and poignant words "tear-jerkers". I looked at a few of those this morning, searching for something I could post to encourage the moms in my life, and quickly teared up.

All of us moms need encouragement. I once read that being a mom is like having your heart walk around outside of your body, and I firmly believe it. I didn't realize that I had signed up for heartwrenching joy and sorrow when I began having kids, but I realize it now. (The really crazy part is that I wouldn't willingly give it up.)

Being a mom forced me to understand how little control I have. It took at least ten years of mothering for me to realize I couldn't control these sweet angels, much as I tried. They are good girls who listen to their mama, but they have minds of their own, as well as their own line to the Holy Spirit, Who works in them without consulting me first. And you know, it's better that way, although in my darker moments I think it isn't. He knows the future-- and He knows their hearts in a way that I don't. Much as that frustrates me at times.

I have known more than one mothering lady in my life so far, and continue to learn much from the women who sacrifice themselves tirelessly on behalf of all the thoughtless young things around them (myself included). Until I became a mother, I didn't realize how self-sacrificing my mom was. We have somewhat different personalities, but despite that, I honestly don't know how she held her tongue and simply loved me when I said hurtful things to her. Amazing love.

If you have a mother, most likely she has gladly given something up for you. Right or wrong as her behavior or thoughts toward you have been, she has had her heart walking around outside her body all your life. (How would you handle that?) Just make sure to tell her thank-you today.

And mommies... I think it is our job to realize they don't get the 'heart walking around outside the body' thing. How can they unless they have experienced it? So when you get little or no thanks for the beautiful sacrifices you make, or worse yet, when your sacrifices are met with scorn or bitterness, forgive them. They do not understand, and are fighting for their own thoughts, their own way. (You don't have to give it to them. But we do need to understand that often children behave like that because they think they are Right. Even when they aren't.)

A Reader

Triss’ acting class is next door to a used bookstore. I had to bring her sisters tonight, and we spent the hour looking at books. I headed straight to the educational things as if compelled, thinking, “Do you *really* want to look at shelves that remind you of things you are not doing? Why not find something enjoyable to read instead?” As I struggled to walk away, Cornflower approached me with a Borrowers book.

“Can we get this?” She asked. “It’s only fifty cents.”

It was a thick book, thicker than she normally likes. She’s just eight, and does enjoy chapter books, but only slim chapter books. I looked into her face and was surprised to see her eagerness.

She is the kind of girl that enjoys clothes and hairdos and nail polish. She had had the same look on her face last night while begging me to give her an old container of eye shadow. I didn’t really think of her as a big reader, although she does enjoy books. She is more of a dolly and dress-up and active kind of girl. Recently, she had asked me several times to pick out some of our own books that would be good reads for her, and I had rejoiced to see her interest.

But I didn’t realize she had developed taste. Usually when we go to bookstores I spend the time telling her, “No, we are not buying a Dora the Explorer/Disney/Scooby Doo book,” or else trying to ignore her choices as she pulls ‘marketing ploy’ books off the shelf to read while in the store. Rather impressed, I said, “Sure, we can get this book!”

She handed it to me and walked off.

Turning from the educational section to the section on writing, I found a book I had wanted for two years, and sat down to enjoy it. It started out every bit as good as I had thought it would be. About halfway through the first chapter, Cornflower approached again.

“Mom, look what I found!”

She had a couple of other books. One was a reprint of an old book about a doll, the most wonderful doll in the world, it said. It looked promising. The other was a retelling of Gulliver’s Travels. It was abridged, but hey! she was recognizing classics. They were fifty cents apiece. Quality *and* thrift! Gotta love it.

“Where are you finding these?” I asked.

She led me to the clearance cart. I began going through one side, she went to the other, and in a moment, handed me a book through the cart. “Look at this one, Mom!” It was an abridgement of Heidi.

“It’s abridged, honey, but that is such a nice picture on the cover.”

“Here, Mom. Look at this one.” It was a retelling of Sherlock Holmes mysteries. “And look!” A thin Scholastic of one of the Orphan Train books.

I was finding a lot of junk on my side. I went to hers. It was full of junk, too. She was culling through the twaddle to pull out more acceptable titles. Eight years old.

She found a book by Astrid Lindgren and another little Scholastic book that looked pretty good for an easier chapter book. “Can we get all these?”

Well… I didn’t really want to spend the money, but look at the girl, full of hope and desire for good things. “Sure!”

We carried our finds to a couple of library stepstools and sat down. “Mom—can I get you a basket?” she asked. “Please, please, please!” she added under her breath.

I started laughing. I couldn’t help it. “Yes. A basket is just what I need. How thoughtful.”

She proudly went off to procure that Shopper’s Badge. She is such a girl.

When she came back, she sat down and laid her head on my shoulder. I read my excellent book, she read hers, and I realized it doesn’t get much better than this.

(Note: I asked the cashier if he had heard about CPSIA and he said, yes, that they had removed all the pre-1985 childrens books and were storing them in a central warehouse-- the bookstore is part of a chain-- until someone figures out what to do with them. He said that he expects they will have a huge sale on pre-1985 childrens' books eventually-- after the law gets fixed, he said. I didn't think to ask if they were accepting pre-1985 books, but they probably are not. A couple of the books Cornflower picked out were copyrighted previous to 1985, but I don't know how to tell what year a book was printed, so I don't know if we might have gotten some that slipped through the cracks. I would look them over more closely, but she is very attached to her books and has taken them all to bed with her.)

(Updated to add this link to a blog written by a Half-Price Books employee who had to personally pull all suspect books from her store's shelves a few weeks ago. Half-Price Books is the store referred to in my story above.)

Life and Work

Triss and I were talking the other night about how much pressure she feels to be specific about what she is going to do when she grows up. I expect I am somewhat to blame for this, and I am sorry. So I told her how so many people make large plans about their adult work, and then once they graduate from college they work in an office for some corporation or other. Sometimes people are regretful, but sometimes they have come to enough maturity that they realize it is not the career or job that matters in this life, but the actual *living* of life.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying we shouldn't plan. (In fact, it is probably my emphasis on planning that has stressed out my sensitive daughter.) But career or job ought not to be what defines anyone as a person, nor what determines happiness.

I've been hearing lately how the economic downturn is going to cause crises for many (indeed, already has) in this area, and I am not talking about financial crises, but psychological. (There will be financial as well, and that is another post.) Yesterday on the radio, I heard a man warn that the need for psychological counseling is going to go way up, due to people whose identity is wrapped up in their careers losing their jobs. It is easy to stand at a distance and see that this is wrong-- what is a job compared to health, or family, or the love of the Lord? But when Triss started talking to me last night, I began to understand where this imprinting of career-as-self begins. We start grooming them for it as soon as they are old enough to show aptitude for something.

As a young adult seeking employment, I looked for jobs that would make me satisfied. I switched around, trying first one thing, and then another, seeking something that would keep me interested long-term. I never expected to marry, being aloof, considered unapproachable by young men. (Mr. Honey tells a funny story regarding this and the night we met. He says the other guys were gutless. My brave hero!) I served as a recreation leader, a nanny, a barista, while working toward my dream of being a singer.

(I had thought of going into opera, but the networking and politics of it was so intimidating, I switched to more pop-style music. The necessity of networking and formulaic songwriting was too much. What I really wanted to do was to sit at a piano and play and sing, then go home at the end of the day. I wouldn't even need a lot of applause. A lounge singer, yeah, that's it. I did do some auditions for a lounge singer, but didn't succeed. I would still love to do that.)

Then, behold, somebody loved me! And plans changed. I *was* to be a wife after all. I continued working after marriage. (We didn't have children and didn't have money either.) I worked in an office, feeling that perhaps the child-related jobs were too isolating. I enjoyed proofreading physician and hospital lists for the insurance company, but despised having to 'grade' my coworkers on how well they keyed in information. So demoralizing. And the tediousness and artificial lighting and air of the office soon wore me down. Also, I was surprised at how very childish adults could be-- and I didn't even have the authority to put anyone in time-out until they cooled off! I worked nights at a dinner theater to keep my singing dream alive and entertain myself while Mr. Honey worked long retail hours.

Then we discovered I was going to have a baby! As soon as Triss was born, I quit the office and stayed home with her. (The dinner theater had closed a few months earlier, being rather more eclectic than audiences in Nashville generally enjoy.) I gradually segued into home daycare. I was glad to be able to stay home and love on my baby, as well as other people's, but it *is* lonely sometimes staying at home with kids. I longed for a companion that could complete sentences. I read a lot.

One day after my second child had been born, as I sat in my home watching very small children and contemplating homeschooling, I realized that it isn't the job that brings satisfaction, but how I do it-- that it is better to 'be happy in what you do' than 'do what makes you happy'. Think about the difference between those two attitudes. (And think about how long it took me to realize this!)

Many times as adults, we are called on to do needful things because it is best that we do them rather than someone else, or because there is no one else at all to do them. We can whine that these jobs are not what we have aimed for or trained to do, but, in the larger scheme of things, that really does not matter. And we ought to be educated, if not at school then on our own time, in such a way that we are capable of thriving in a good many environments.

How, then, should we be educated? School-to-work is not the answer. That is what produces despair in a person who must change careers.

We say, "What is the good of knowledge? Give a boy professional instruction, whether he is to be a barrister or a bricklayer, and strike out from his curriculum Greek or geography, or whatever is not of utilitarian value. Teach him to play the game and handle the ropes of his calling, and you have done the best for him." Now, here is a most mischievous fallacy, an assertion that a child is to be brought up for the uses of society only and not for his own uses. Here we get the answer to the repeated question that suggested itself in a survey of our educational condition. We launch children upon too arid and confined a life.

Pursuing dreams and passions is also not the answer (although it comes closer). Many times children, and even adults, do not receive the education they need to live their lives to the fullest, because they focus solely on the aspect they have achieved a little success in. This results in a narrow view of gifting, and a similar attitude to the school-to-work crowd. Rather than saying "I can't because it isn't in my job description," they say, "I can't, because it isn't part of my gifting."

(This is a pet peeve of mine. Perhaps you have been placed in the situation you are in to develop a gift for this thing, did you ever think of that? Even adults grow and change, you know. We were not meant for stasis.)

"I must live my life!" said the notorious bandit who before the War terrorized Paris; and we have heard the sort of cant often, even before The Doll's House gave to "self-expression" the dignity of a cult; nevertheless, the brigand Bonnot has done an ill turn to society, for a misguiding theory neatly put is more dangerous than an ill-example.

We are tired of the man who claims to live his life at the general expense, of the girl who will live hers to her family's annoyance or distress; but there really is a great opportunity open to the nation which will set itself to consider what the life of a man should be and will give each individual a chance to live his life.

The pursuing of a gift or passion, for good or ill, can then be defined as 'I must live my [narrow, selfish view of] life'. Or the living of a person's life can be defined differently, as broad, complete, encompassing many interests and duties, the setting of a person's feet in a large room. With this, we can endure the tediousness of office, store or home; we can find happiness in serving even in the most menial tasks; we can step outside the comfort zone of resumes and dreams, and steep ourselves in real life.

I believe the answer to living the life we are meant to live lies, not in a well-chosen profession, but in a well-rounded education, full to the brim with ideas as well as information. It is a challenge to achieve this, especially with all the pressure to 'be' something when you grow up. However, a person who has captured wisdom and understanding can be quickly and efficiently trained to do just about any worthwhile task, and what's more, is content to do the task as long as necessary, and move on when it is time rather than complacently remaining in a useless position.

Our goal should be knowledge, wisdom and understanding. Not a job, not a dream. But a whole person, well-equipped to honor God and serve her fellow man in whatever capacity lies open to her.

"Think clear, feel deep, bear fruit well," says our once familiar mentor, Matthew Arnold, and his monition exactly meets our needs.

(All quotes are taken from Chapter 4 of the second part of Charlotte Mason's Volume 6: Toward a Philosophy of Education)

A Woman At Work

When I was six weeks old, my mother went back to her job as a planner with a prominent trucking manufacturer. She has worked outside of the home for my entire life, except for one year when I was twelve. I was taken care of by my grandmother, and later on my brother and I were cared for by my father's first cousin, whom my brother and I lovingly refer to as our 'other mom'.

We didn't know it at the time, but the Lord was preparing my mom to be almost the sole financial provider for her family later on.

When I was in college and still dependent on my parents' financial support (my brother had just finished high school), my father was declared legally blind and had to give up his driver's license. His work as a sales manager was partially contingent on his ability to drive, and his company fired him. It was a very difficult time for both my parents. It was a blessing that my mother had such a good job with excellent benefits-- it kept us afloat. And within two years, Dad and Mom had relocated to another state to follow Mom's job.

When my brother and I were kids, none of us knew how important Mom's career was going to be later on down the road. But the Lord knew. He was preparing something none of us understood yet.

And yet, my brother and I both understood that Mom was the keeper of the home. She kept us clean, well-dressed, well-fed, in a tidy home. She kept up traditions; documented events with pictures; took us on outings; attended athletic events, plays, recitals; sewed clothes, costumes, curtains and pillows; prepared for vacations and church meetings; and was very hospitable. (So hospitable, that often I was kicked out of my bed for overnight guests! I didn't mind, though. I liked company.) She was an excellent housekeeper, wife and mother-- and still is. With a full-time job outside the home.

Dad's eye situation actually freed him to do more studying and writing as a minister of the gospel. He was without a church to serve for many years, and wrote two books during that time, providing blessings for God's people as he used his analytical and research skills to write a church history, and a commentary on the subject of repentance.

My parents are going to be fine financially after retirement because of the blessing of Mom's career. She and Dad did not know that when she continued working after I was born. They just knew it was what she needed to do.

I firmly believe it was part of God's provision for our family that Mom be a worker outside of the home, as well as in it.

I have been spurred to write this because of the astonishing articles and comments I have been reading by conservative Christian women about Sarah Palin. Sisters, we do not know what God's plan is for every person on the planet. God moves in mysterious ways, his wonders to perform.

I am not saying who to vote for. Perhaps a write-in would be appropriate. I am not super thrilled with Senator McCain myself. I am shocked and dismayed at Senator Obama. Senator Biden disgusts me. Governor Palin seems a strong, stalwart warrior of a woman-- and I don't know how she does what she does. I do know her husband stands fully behind her, and in fact took a leave of absence from his career when she became governor of Alaska. He stays home to take care of the children, so they are not being neglected. I think I would feel an strong obligation to stay home with the baby and the wayward teenager myself.

But, Sisters, let us remember that just because we know scripture does not mean we know God's will for all. We know what we would do. We do not know what the Lord has given her to do. That is between her and God. Our job at this point is to look at the chess game of the election process and decide which move will cause the greatest number of godly choices down the road. Maybe it is making a symbolic stand with a write-in. Maybe it is voting for the least harmful and most likely to be elected choice.

It is a tough election cycle, that is for sure. But let's not destroy the house with our own hands. We are where we are in this country. Let's look at where we are right now, and decide how to vote in order to get *closer* to where we ought to be in the next four years, rather than further away.

I realize I am probably opening a can of worms here. That is why I generally do not post political commentary on my blog. But I had to stand and be counted as someone who thinks it is sometimes appropriate and God-honoring for a woman to have a career outside of the home. I believe God sometimes provides blessings in that way. I have seen multiple evidences of that as I have journeyed through life thus far, of which my mother is simply one example.

Another post in which are listed some godly women of the Bible who worked outside the home.

Happy Mother's Day

Grandma always made you feel she had been waiting to see just you all day and now the day was complete. ~Marcy DeMaree

Grandmas hold our tiny hands for just a little while, but our hearts forever. ~Author Unknown

Nobody can do for little children what grandparents do. Grandparents sort of sprinkle stardust over the lives of little children. ~Alex Haley

Happy Mother's Day, Grammy and GG Mom!

Trip Update

She boarded the ship this morning, and is moving from excitement to excitement with great fervor. Those of you who know Triss personally will understand what I mean.

Expansion

This has been a Birthday Week. Quite a big one, actually. Triss has officially turned teen and Mariel hit the double digits. (Cornflower's birthday is in November, which she finds inherently unfair in September with her two sisters getting all the attention...)

We are adjusting to the new bigness of these two. They tell me they don't feel any different, and really all that has changed is a number. The growing takes place gradually, doesn't it?

And yet birthday events have a way of highlighting changes that have been gradually, quietly taking place. I got up at 3 yesterday morning to put Triss on a plane with her grandparents.

They will be in Florida until Saturday, when she will stand on the dock before the cruise ship that will take her and her grandparents out to sea and be faced with the reality of "952 feet long".

Living Math.

(Update, 9/29: Er, that should read "952 feet tall". I was corrected by my little jet-setter this morning when she informed me that the ship is actually over 11,000 feet long.)

(Later update: Okay, I looked it up, and it *is* 952 feet long. It has been awhile since she presented her research to us, so she must have forgotten.)

And after they sail, she will add to that understanding the knowledge of the vastness of the Atlantic Ocean as felt when out on a large ship with no land around-- a hulking vessel reduced to insignificance. Ah, yes, Living Geography. It really is a big, big world.

(I tried to explain this vastness after Mr. Honey's and my cruise a couple of years ago, but the kids just couldn't know it the way I did. There is something about the seeming infinity of water, unchanging for hours or sometimes days, that brings an understanding of the sea one cannot get from books, maps, or even the tales of travelers. And I'm talking about being out on a luxury cruise liner, hee hee. Just think what we would learn if we were on a small work ship of some kind!)

She called us last night, full of excitement and news about waves, bodysurfing and the beach. They were eating supper at a little restaurant overlooking "their" stretch of beach, a restaurant in which we ate during our trip to Florida six years ago. I could picture it all, and I am happy she gets this experience.

Meantime, those of us at home are following her journeys on a map and telling each other, "she's not here, remember?" It feels a little like part of the roof has caved in. She will be home in eight more days, full of new stories to tell and new thoughts to ponder.

But who's counting?

Bluebonnets in Fredericksburg

(I don't know how to fix it, but when the picture was taken, it was centered properly.)

Practice What You Preach

When I teach piano, one thing I find myself constantly repeating to my students is that a person should only play a piece as quickly as she can play accurately. If there are mistakes being made, the piece is not being played slowly enough. Accuracy is much more important than speed.

So this morning I was playing through some old pieces, attempting to daydream my way into some cohesion of ideas for the next school year. (Does anyone else ever do this? Play an instrument as a way to access the hidden corners of the mind, where solutions are sure to be found, but are not plainly available in regular life? I also clean as a way to access those thoughts. Typing on the computer helps too, sometimes.)

My youngest piano student, six-year-old Cornflower, came to listen. I was playing Rondo a la Turk by Mozart, and I was rusty, having to slow down during transitions, occasionally missing the fingering in the runs, etc.

This sweet child watched and listened for a little while, then thoughtfully said, "Mom, I think you need to play that piece more slowly."

At least I know she's paying attention.

Dwelling in Safety

"Mommy, if I were a little bug with a t-shirt on that said 'Cornflower', would you look to make sure the bug you were swatting didn't have on a t-shirt before you swatted it?"


(Well, of course!)


(And I should probably also mention that the child sleeps in a bedroom decorated with fairy wings, larger-than-life flowers and a leaf-- for a bed canopy-- that is bigger than she is.)

A Milestone

Cornflower lost her first tooth today.

She has had a grown-up tooth coming in crooked, behind one of her front bottom teeth, for a few weeks now, although the baby tooth was not at all loose. Today the dentist pulled the baby tooth.

He was very clever. We were in there on other business, and I just asked him to look at it spur-of-the-moment. When he saw it, he agreed that it needed to come out, and asked if we wanted to make an appointment or have it pulled today. I said today.

We have a wonderful dentist, and the kids have always enjoyed-- nay, looked forward with eager anticipation to-- visiting the dentist. This is so important to me, because I never liked going to the dentist until we were blessed to find this wonderful family dentistry staff six years ago. Well, I was a little worried today (although I didn't think I was showing it) because I could see that this visit could easily turn the tide of Cornflower's fondness for dental visits, and I really didn't want that to happen.

But I should have known better. Dr. Rossen is such a pro. He visited with Cornflower about sleepy juice that would make her tooth and lip go to sleep, engaging her in banter as the anesthetic worked its way in. He showed her the tool he would use, and how he was going to use it. He pulled her tooth while showing her how the tool worked, and she never even noticed. He then asked if Cornflower thought we should pull the tooth today or wait. Cornflower said to wait, and Dr. Rossen said, "Really? But I've already pulled it!" Cornflower thought that was a big joke. She didn't believe him. He had to show her the tooth!

Smooth.

I was relieved and thought the visit was a big success. One of the dental assistants told me, "She got an A+, Mom-- but you got an F! You looked so worried!" I didn't even know that! I was really stressing about whether Cornflower would still enjoy dental visits, and it must have shown on my face!

Cornflower called her daddy and her Goggy to tell them about her tooth. (She thought Goggy would be disappointed because he had planned to pull the tooth when it got a little looser.) We went to Sonic for celebratory ice cream (the residual effects of the anesthetic prompting Cornflower to remark, "Mom, my lip feels like it has tape on it!"), and then went home.

She is expecting a visit from the tooth fairy tonight, and has planned accordingly: her tooth, in its little plastic box; a cookie in a ziploc bag; and a note, are all hidden under her pillow.

And she gave me the pink carnation she got from the dentist office.

:warm fuzzy:

I like this job.

Trees in the Forest and the Forest of Trees

I think one of the struggles I have with monastery bells is that they all seem to go off at once at my house. Javamom and I were just talking about this via email yesterday.

I am really good at focusing on just one thing, down to the smallest microcosm of thought. I can think one thing to death. That is my problem. I can get down to kindergarten level and identify completely with the young child-mind, and live there all day-- but don't ask me to talk about past participles or Plutarch. Or I can commiserate with the difficulty of third grade math, and rejoice to be learning the exploits of British kings-- but then it is hard to be understanding of my kindergartner's position when she begins doing whatever she can to get my attention after being by herself for an hour. Or I can attempt to understand Plato and Shakespeare and have a theoretical discussion on the virtues of socialization versus academic achievement (with my sixth grader), but if my 3rd grader approaches me wanting help with her basic division facts I have to "climb out of a pit" in order to remember how to explain it.

And I'm very good at homemaking-- as long as that is all I am doing. I can clean and pay bills and have lovely dinners and peaceful evenings-- but during school seasons I'm thinking of other things. Or I can be a fun summer Mom, but I will most likely forget to have the oil changed in the car.

Javamom said that I am global. I have thought for a long time that I am the opposite-- I examine every tree and forget about the forest. But after disagreeing with her, I thought of something Krakovianka said once in a conversation about synthesis versus analysis (which I think is the same thing as global versus analytical): it depends on how you define the whole and the parts. She had a conversation with someone once about synthesis and analysis in studying art, and they both agreed that children ought to go from whole to parts-- synthesis to analysis-- as they progress through their learning in art appreciation. But one (I think it was Krakovianka) believed the forest was being immersed in the art world of one artist, while the other looked at the whole as being the entire art realm-- giving the child an overview of the entire history of art before focusing on individuals.

I think my conversation with Javamom must have some similarities. I deeply immerse myself in whatever I am doing-- wholly. I go as deep as my mind can get (and get turned upside down and in circles a lot, because my reasoning ability is not of the best). So whatever I am doing could be considered the forest. Or it could be considered just one tree-- after all, there are so many things a mother must immerse herself in. Then the forest would be the whole of my life.

I get scattered and do not know which tree (forest? bell?) to focus on. For instance, as I sit here blogging this morning, I can hear the children getting ready. Or rather, making ice skating plans rather than getting ready. I ought to go move them along a little. And before I sat down with these thoughts, I was beginning to make oatmeal, but not a bit of water nor oats have made it to the pot. I have gotten myself almost ready for the day already, which is good-- but I still have my makeup to put on. And it is now time for Bible lesson. There are numerous other duties at the back of my mind as well, each jostling for the position of importance, and it is puzzling which one to place in front. This is one reason I find housekeeping systems like Flylady and Sidetracked Home Executives very comforting-- until I rebel at my own stringency in following them to the letter.

Each thing is a world I could immerse myself in. So I blog about them instead.

Paying My Devotions in Parts That are New

Last night I had a conversation with a dear sister in Christ about mothering, devotion and family time. I admire this young mother, who has a toddler and a preschooler, for the way she handles her boys. I, of course, am an older mom with older children, but I often watch my friend and wish that we had started the mothering journey at the same time, because I learn so many lessons from watching her with her sons.

We were talking about quiet time. It's hard to have any of that when you have a four year old and a one year old. I get some now because my youngest is six and I can just say, "I need to do some things now, so run along and play," and she generally does.

As we talked, I remembered what it was like when my girls were very young. Around the time Triss was four and Mariel was one, I decided it was important that I have a quiet time every morning. I had been reading Elizabeth George's _Beautiful in God's Eyes_ and I was inspired and motivated by her vision of a woman who met the Proverbs 31 criteria. (That's another post entirely!)

For some reason, forty-five minutes was the amount I thought necessary for a good daily quiet time. Thirty minutes for reading and fifteen minutes for prayer, you know. So, I started getting up a little earlier than the girls to have my time.

Little Triss thought it was great. More time to spend visiting with Mommy! She has never needed a whole lot of sleep, so often she would follow me out to the living room in the morning. And she would talk. And talk. And talk. Sometimes so loudly that baby Mariel woke up and needed to be with people. Urgently. (Mariel has always preferred company to being by herself.) It became a child-training time instead of a mommy quiet time.

So I struggled along for a few years. Sometimes I got my time and sometimes I didn't. I felt guilty for not having a consistent reading and praying time. I felt upset that these precious young blessings and their father did not accomodate me more. (They really did, but I had a very stringent standard of accomodation. As in, either give me all the time I want or it doesn't count as accomodation. Please do not try this at home.) Then I attended a Wholehearted Mother Conference and heard Sally Clarkson speak. She was telling one of her stories about her time at home with her family, and she said, "I sat down with my cup of tea for thirty minutes, or whatever time the Lord allowed me that day..." And my poor mind went, "Oh. It doesn't always have to be forty-five minutes!" Silly me. Of course it doesn't. But that little phrase opened my eyes to the fact that I was the one who had imposed the Forty-Five Minute Rule For Devotions, not the Lord.

So I made allowance for life in the midst of devotions, which eased my mind a little(as well as my family's life).

Then this year, I found Willa's blogs. I "met" Willa through AO yahoo groups a couple of years ago, and greatly appreciated her thoughtful posts and insights. I just discovered a couple of months ago that she has blogs, and added her to my feeds right away. A few weeks ago she linked to an article where the author talks about monastery bells. I do not know a whole lot about monasticism, but it appears we mothers may know a bit about monastic living.

Moreover, the demands of young children also provide her with what St. Bernard, one of the great architects of monasticism, called the "monastic bell". All monasteries have a bell. Bernard, in writing his rules for monasticism, told his monks that whenever the monastic bell rang, they were to drop whatever they were doing and go immediately to the particular activity (prayer, meals, work, study, sleep) to which the bell was summoning them. He was adamant that they respond immediately, stating that if they were writing a letter they were to stop in mid-sentence when the bell rang. The idea in his mind was that when the bell called, it called you to the next task and you were to respond immediately, not because you want to, but because it's time for that task and time isn't your time, it's God's time. For him, the monastic bell was intended as a discipline to stretch the heart by always taking you beyond your own agenda to God's agenda.

Hence, a mother raising children, perhaps in a more privileged way even than a professional contemplative, is forced, almost against her will, to constantly stretch her heart. For years, while raising children, her time is never her own, her own needs have to be kept in second place, and every time she turns around a hand is reaching out and demanding something. She hears the monastic bell many times during the day and she has to drop things in mid-sentence and respond, not because she wants to, but because it's time for that activity and time isn't her time, but God's time.

Isn't that an amazing thought? Time isn't my time, it's God's time. How about that? (More amazing that it took me this long to realize it!)

As soon as I read that, I realized the meaning of this verse in an old hymn I've sung in church my whole life:

Dear bow'r, I must leave you and bid you adieu
And pay my devotions in parts that are new
For Jesus, my Savior, resides everywhere
And can, in all places, give answer to prayer

Willa writes of "listening to her monastery bells". I like that. We can be instant in season and out of season, taking in our fellowship with the Lord whether constantly helping little ones, or able to sit with a cup of tea and the Bible.

Nowadays, rather than babies in cribs and preschoolers with lots to say, I am more likely to be called by the dishes or the laundry or the vacuum. Or the child with the division problems, or the child with the debate case, or the little kindergartner who hasn't had any attention for an hour. But I have realized that the time isn't mine, it really is God's. It makes more sense for Him to have charge of it, because He knows all things. And I don't. And after all, it is all about Him and not me. Oh, that I could remember this in the midst of the day.

Here is the entire text of the old hymn I quoted above. (This person's bower sounds like a lovely place, but my bower is usually one of our big blue La-z-boy recliners):

To leave my dear friends and from neighbors to part
And go from my home, it afflicts not my heart
Like thoughts of absenting myself for a day
From that blessed retreat where I've chosen to pray

Dear bow'r, where the pine and the poplar have spread
And wove with their branches a roof o'er my head
How oft have I knelt on the evergreen there
And poured out my soul to my Savior in prayer

The early shrill notes of the loved nightingale
That dwelt in my bow'r I observed as my bell
To call me to duty while birds of the air
Sang anthems of praises as I went to prayer

How sweet were the zephyrs perfumed by the pine
The ivy, the balsam and wild eglantine
But sweeter, ah! sweeter, superlative were
The joys I have tasted in answer to prayer

For Jesus, my Savior, oft deigned there to meet
And blessed with His presence my humble retreat
Oft filled me with rapture and blessedness there
Inditing in Heaven's own language my prayer.

Dear bow'r, I must leave you and bid you adieu
And pay my devotions in parts that are new,
For Jesus, my Savior, resides everywhere
And can, in all places, give answer to prayer.

--Author Unknown

Socialization

"How many people in this house feel like they have enough friends?" I asked. (A little informal homeschool socialization poll.)

Three out of five family members raised their hands.

Triss smiled and said, "You can never have enough friends, Mom."

Well, duh.