The Waiting

Tom Petty sang it well.  The waiting is the hardest part.

How often I hear one of my kiddos lament that they just can't wait til tomorrow for their friend to come over. Or they just can't wait  x number of weeks to earn enough money to buy what they want.

And I'm thinking in my head, Get used to it kiddos.  The waiting is part of this worldly life.  Yes, one of the hardest parts.

I shouldn't quote a rock n roller without quoting words more infinitely true and inspired, the words of God written through his prophet Habbakuk.

"Though the fig tree does not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines, the produce of the olive fail and the fields yield no food,  the flock be cut off from the fold and there be no herd in the stalls, yet will I take joy in the Lord. I will rejoice in the God of my salvation." vs 3: 17, 18

This is where I'm at.  Still and again.  Waiting. Waiting on God, who is faithful and true, who keeps all his promises, who never leads me astray. But who does not act in the timing that I think He should act.  Almost never.

I remember waiting, with hope, on this amazing man who is now my husband.  I confess, I didn't have to wait quite as long as I thought I would to become his bride.  From a three week courtship to a three month engagement- that's a pretty quick trip to the altar.  But I remember how even that felt like an eternity.

I remember waiting to sell our former home, hoping every day to receive a call from the realtor that someone wanted to view it.  We got three calls. Third time was the charm. Just 77 days to sell it in a very depressed market, yet every day seemed like forever.

One day, I hope to look back on what is presently almost three years of waiting.  It may be, and probably will be, longer.  But I hope to look back on these three years of waiting for something.  Anything.  That next move, that next step, that act of God that finally makes these dry, desert, lonely years blossom into the fruitful and abundant, the gushing springs.

At this point, there is very little blossom, very little fruit.  Our endeavors seem to wither and fail.   It can be so easy to dwell on the empty places.

And yet.  In the waiting, the joy of the Lord can be our ready strength.  And if we yield to that, there is abundance after all.

Two "Oldies" to Try

I am decidedly behind the times.

I am rarely current on movies or books and pay little attention to what's new in music aside from the occasional scan through the radio stations.  Really, I have mediocre interest, and even less time for staying up-to-date on things.

But often, some of the best things out there find their way to me.

Books like The Kite Runner by Khaled Housseini.

I found a copy of this book at an annual library book sale on the Fourth of July, along with a few other gems (A Thousand Splendid Suns and The Book Thief).

The Kite Runner is easily one of my favorite books now, perhaps even vying for first place with To Kill a Mockingbird.  It is beautiful, redemptive, and perhaps, strangely, a book that drew me closer to God, though the god of this book was Allah.   While reading the recent history of Afghanistan, and seeing life through an average Afghans, my eyes were opened to the deep love my Father God has for these people.  To their suffering.  To their very humanness which is so like my own.  These Muslim people are not worthy of my fear or my scorn, but my compassion and the same love Jehovah-God feels for them.

Another book found it's way to me.

One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp.

Many a time I've thought of trying it out, but haven't.  I recently found a copy at Goodwill and began reading it on a rainy day this week.

These tears well up in my eyes, but don't fall, as I read it.  Because I can relate to it so well.  The void between being saved from my sins but living a full and abundant life of joy in the midst of the daily.  Just as she began a list of gifts,  I began one. A list of gifts God gives me in the everyday.  Because this is what God has given me and I want to call it good.

More than likely I will not stay current on movies, unless it's the latest in the Marvel Avenger's series. Josh looks forward to those and they are about the only films we'll go to the theater to see.  And even though I am a music buff, the new stuff can be so full of ick that we stick to Christian radio for the most part.

So you'll never find me reviewing what's Cool and New, but maybe give these few oldies a shot.

Intentional

Sometimes you're not invited.  Sometimes nobody talks to you.  Sometimes you feel just plain left out.

And it's not intentional.  Most of the time, people really don't mean to do it.

And truthfully, you don't mean to do it either, but you sometimes do.

It's not on purpose.

Life is busy. Kids are crazy.  Work is stressful.  The house is messy.

You've barely got time to think about what's for dinner.  Me, I've got a child turning nine at the end of the week and I've barely had time to think about a party and I just bought her a present.  I would never, ever intentionally forget her big day.  I would never put it off on purpose.

That doesn't mean it hasn't happened.

Sometimes I'm not invited to something, or my kids are not.  Sometimes I feel completely alone in a crowd. Sometimes I feel just plain left out, and so do my kids.

And when I think about it rationally, when I let the Holy Spirit minister to me in the sadness of it, I give the benefit of the doubt, I think the best of people, and realize it was not intentional.

And the Lord teaches me through it.

To be one who is Intentional.

About seeking out the lonely.

About finding a face to smile into.

About starting a conversation.

About inviting not just friends but those who could be friends.

About noticing people and loving people.

I will do many things that were unintentional and not on purpose.

But I hope to do even more things that are.

It's not every morning you wake up feeling blessed.

So when you do, you take it and savor it.

I feel blessed this morning.

(Side-note: Please excuse any use of the f-word (feelings), k?  It has it's place. Don't over analyze.)

Yesterday we celebrated my firstborn's 11th birthday.  The further we get into these double digits, the weirder it seems.  It's only up from here.  He'll be in the double digits for the rest of his life.  Those single digit years, you only get nine of them.  I wish I had savored them more, but I am excited, yes, excited, to savor the upcoming teen years. I'd probably choose to skip the awkward preteen years, but I've never heard of that happening.  So I'll try to savor those too.

Yesterday, I got to see some of the ladies I love most in the world.  My Lincoln girls.  I miss what we had there so much, but the Lord is so faithful to remind me: you'll be friends forever.   We have bonds that will never be broken, built on history together and the love of Christ.

And then I'm reminded that God is building new bonds in our new place.  History takes time.  The Lord subtracted nothing from our lives when He moved us.  He only planned to add to our lives.

The sun is shining bright when the weatherman predicted rain for days on end.

I'm listening to this new song by Casting Crowns and praying the Lord will make it true of my life:

To know Him and make Him known.

To live more than an ordinary life 

To do more than just survive

To thrive...

Knowing that the key is knowing Him and making Him known.  There is nothing ordinary about that. Walking with Jesus is the best thing going.  Joy unspeakable.

No wonder I'm feeling blessed this morning.

Seasons Change

Yesterday was this gorgeously sunny, yet slightly cool day. Not a cloud in the sky.

The oldest two got on their bikes and Josh and I got on our running shoes. We strapped Petite into the jogging stroller and we were off.  We ran/biked/strolled almost four miles.  Together. As a family.  Four out of five of us were sweaty.

This was the second time in just a few days.

And about the first two times in all these years of parenting that we were doing something like this.  All of us, exercising together.

It made me think of all the things we haven't been able to do with young children.  And I do mean the things *we*  haven't been able to do.  Just like yours, our family is very unique.  There are things yours can do happily that we cannot and vice versa.  In fact, our family motto is "Just because it's supposed to be fun, doesn't mean it is".  Things like parades.  Not fun for us.  Gardening. Not fun for us.  You may have had the littles out running with you when they were toddlers. You may have teenagers that still won't run with you.

Hey, you may not run. It's cool.

For us, this was nice.  A new season has come upon us.

We can leave the kiddos for short periods of time, alone.  I'm talking just running to the store around the corner, no more than thirty minutes, but wow is it nice!  No longer dragging all three kids into the store to get a gallon of milk and loaf of bread is- dare I say it?- priceless.

Having two out of three be able to secure themselves with seat belts- very nice.

Conversations are gradually getting deeper.

Tantrums are waning.

We can drive to Florida and back without potty stops every hour; without wailing children in the back seat.

Directions can be read and followed without the help of mom... sometimes.

I remember when Mister was still a baby. I thought he'd never learn to feed himself without making a mess.  And then the day came and went when he could.  And there was something else I was waiting for him to do on his own.

Brown-Eyed Girl has been slow to become an independent reader. But now she's reading on her own, improving by leaps and bounds every week.  She wasn't like her older brother in this, but she got there.

Everything really is a season.  Those things that are miserable to do right now because the kids aren't ready... they will probably get easier.  And if they don't, if they never enjoy parades, it just means you get to fill that time with something that is better and more fun for your family.

I know I should be saying to appreciate the season you're in, the diapers, or hormonal teenagers, or what have you. But you already know that.  I just mean to say that things change. Before you know it your kids are speeding past you on their bikes, no more training wheels.  And when you hug them you realize they need to start wearing deodorant.

And so begins another season.

Conventional Wisdom 2014

I'm very thankful that nearly every year I get to go to a homeschool convention. In fact, the only year I didn't attend was when my youngest was still a nursing baby.  As welcome as nursing infants are at most anything homeschool, it didn't sound like a fun and refreshing time for me to tote around my seven-month-old.  For the past three years, I've been to conventions outside my home state, mostly because they are larger and nearly the same cost.  A wider variety of speakers and vendors are offered. I consider these getaways an essential part of my journey as a home educating mama.

Over the years, I'm less concerned with how-tos and finding the next great curriculum that's going to revolutionize my homeschool.  I'm in my seventh year of teaching, my children have never been in any other kind of school, and though I often feel like I'm hitting a wall, I've learned that it's usually not long before we find our way around it or over it or maybe we even knock it down. So I find myself going to more of the workshops that promise encouragement.  Workshops with titles like "Lightening the Load" and "Calm My Anxious Heart".  One fabulous workshop I attended last year was on keeping your own love of learning alive.

I'm encouraged just by being in the presence of so many other homeschooling families.  I marvel, truly, that so many of them bring their whole family!  Babies through teens, dad too.  I think it's wonderful, but I personally enjoy making this once-a-year getaway a girls' getaway.  (Josh and I will celebrate our anniversary with a getaway shortly and the kiddos will get away to Camp Nana.)  I've always enjoyed the diversity at these conventions, particularly these larger ones in big New England cities like Hartford and Worcester.  There are prayer caps, saris, veils, yarmulkes.  There are long skirts, a few short skirts, plenty of jeans. Tons of other moms are wearing those fabulous knee high boots that I can't even zip up.  In this group of people, I feel I am perhaps one of the more liberal attendees.  I don't want to be convinced to join a family integrated church, to shun all sports and clubs, or to throw away my son's Captain Underpants books.  I don't want to amp up my arsenal of creation vs. evolution arguments.  I don't want to hear anything political, even as regards parental rights or homeschooling laws. I simply wish to go and be reminded that I have made the right decision to homeschool my children.  To have someone tell me that all the little things I worry about (doing enough, balancing it all, teaching another child to read) will be just fine.

And I love to eat food I didn't have to cook.  To waste time in the vendor hall.  To be given a chance to miss my children.

So, I'll share my short list of the most profound things I "learned" at this year's convention:

Number One: Ditch the books after Easter.  This advice came from Carlita Boyles, creator of Math on the Level.  She is a veteran public school teacher and homeschool mom.  As a public school teacher, she said nothing was retained after Easter break. So as homeschool parents, she encouraged us to fill those days with less book work and more hands on, fun learning, even if it meant finishing our days on weekends or summer field trips.  Truth is, I probably won't ever ditch the books after Easter, but it is incredibly freeing to be reminded that I can. And that our days get to be whatever I think they should be.  And that great learning is taking place outside the books.

Number Two: Chore basket.  I am an absolutely horrible maintainer of the chore chart.  Chore charts make too much work for me.  I don't follow through with enforcing them or paying for chores. Obviously, I want my children contributing to the household chores.  And I realized I may be provoking them to wrath by not paying them their allowance consistently (even if they are not doing their chores consistently). So, I came home with a new plan to try, this idea also from Carlita Boyles.  I stapled two paper plates together to form a container, leaving the top unstapled to make enough room to stick a hand inside and grab a chore card (I already have these from the unused chore chart).  I made another container for pay tickets.  Each ticket has an amount on it, mostly 25 cents, some a little less, a few 50 cent tickets, and two $1 tickets.  First they choose a chore ticket, complete it, and get their work checked. Then they draw a pay ticket and immediately get paid.  So far, the kids have not even been asked to do a chore, but the entry has been cleaned and swept, a bathroom cleaned, family and play room picked up, wood box filled, and living room swept, and I've paid out about $2 (Mister got lucky and drew a $1 ticket the first time).  They love getting paid immediately. There have been no complaints even for a 15 cent pay ticket.  While it's too soon to tell if this will be a long lasting plan of attack, for now, my house feels so much tidier, the kids are proud of their work, and pleased with their pay.

Number Three: Don't go upstairs if you don't have to.  This was another incredibly freeing lesson to learn, this time from Denise Eide, a speaker I had never heard before, and also creator of a curriculum I had never heard of before called Logic of  English.  She was confessing many of the things she is anxious about, even little things like the cracked linoleum in her entry way.  She also confessed that she has a large, older home with four bedrooms upstairs and the master bedroom downstairs... and that she almost never goes upstairs in her house. Because she homeschools, runs a home, a curriculum business, and is a conference speaker.  And when she goes upstairs and sees the mess, it stresses her out.  And she just doesn't need the added stress, so she rarely goes up there.  This resonated with me so much, especially because I very recently thought that I just needed to not go into the "kids wing" of the house or even the family room, which is upstairs as well, because the state of disorder makes me, seriously, spazzy.  If I just go up the stairs, hang a quick right into my bedroom, and ignore the rest, life is more peaceful. If my downstairs is fairly tidy, I am happy.  Hearing another mom echo my own thoughts made me feel better about this.

Number Four: Fancy curriculum isn't necessary.  I am an absolute curriculum junkie. In fact, once I heard Denise Eide and then checked out this never-before-seen curriculum, I wanted it.  Because it looks so cool and fun and shiny and new. But, I heard this little voice many, many times at the convention:  I don't always need a new curriculum. In fact, many things I teach can be taught without a curriculum.  I'm quite happy with much of what I'm using. Rod and Staff English isn't fancy, it's Mennonite after all, but it's a great fit for both of my older children.  I teach spelling with a used copy of Spelling Power and Phonics Pathways.  I teach writing from my own knowledge of the subject.  We'll watch Sister Wendy for free on youtube for extra art history.  I'll get most of our read alouds from Goodwill.  Penmanship is integrated, not it's own subject.  I want to use every curriculum under the sun, from this new Logic of English, to IEW, to History Revealed, to every Sonlight core.  But we're good with what we've got.

That's this year's convention in a nutshell, from my perspective. As always, a great and necessary time away.

 And now, back to  year seven of homeschooling.

Justina, Health, Love, Freedom

I'm the kind of  person who tries hard to see both sides of an issue.  I also recognize that some issues have many sides.  So with the latest news about Justina Pelletier (permanent custody being given to the state of Massachusetts), I want hard to believe that there is a side to this story I don't know. That the judge and child protective service folks are really acting in the best interest of this 15-year-old girl.  I don't want to jump on the Parental Rights, conservative Christian bandwagon just because they are involved in this case (though I certainly qualify as a parental rights advocate and conservative (to the liberal world) Christian).

It's very difficult to find any information about the case apart from the outrage that is all over the Internet. I do think this counts for something, but in the Boston Globe report on the latest ruling, they cite the judge on several reasons for his ruling.  One is that Pelletier's father was abusive to state officials, using expletives in the presence of his daughter.  Another is that he was unwilling to work with residential homes that Justina may have been sent to, even threatening to sue them.  The family seemed unwilling to compromise with authorities. They wanted sole, full custody returned to them or nothing else.  The parents are also accused of medical abuse and being unfit to care for their daughter.

Again, I'm trying to see the side of the state in this case, but regardless of their reasons for not giving a daughter back to her family, I feel they are not based on what is best for the child.

More and more I believe we live in a country that is so flip-flopped, so off course when it comes to using a moral compass.  It seems you can perform any number of abuses on your unborn child and get away with it, but once that child enters the world, you have less and less control over how you raise it.  Ridiculous things have been called child abuse, like not giving flu shots, spanks on the butt, and feeding your child a certain diet.  Authority over a child more and more seems to be in the hands of "experts"- doctors, child welfare officials, teachers, and other school employees.  You may do whatever you want to that child in utero, but once it is born, you begin to lose the ability to raise that child as you see fit.

Personally, if one of my children had been taken away from me for over a year, I would begin to lose my patience as well.  I would seek any means necessary to get my child back. No doubt I would be angry, frustrated, and use words I would not normally use.  I would be broken, hopeless, not myself.  The love of a parent is often irrational and emotional, and makes us act imperfectly.  As I have often heard, to truly love someone, you must hate everything that wants to harm them.  And hate makes us do things we would not otherwise do.

I find it interesting that the parents are charged with medical child abuse.  They made a regular trek to Boston from Hartford to have their daughter treated for what they call mitochondrial disease.  Her treatments were successful.  Upon visiting a different hospital, Justina was deemed to have a psychiatric disorder instead and has been deteriorating ever since.  She has been living in a psychiatric ward for over a year.  No friends, no family. School?  Who knows.  To me, this is child abuse.  Children shouldn't live in hospitals, particularly psychiatric hospitals.  Children should live in homes, with loving caregivers.  Surrounded by the familiar, the comforting.  Letting a 14 year old girl live in a hospital this long?  That is child abuse.

It gets me thinking of the longer and longer arm that modern health care has in our lives.  We are now legally required to purchase health care (or pay a penalty).  This traditional health care rarely covers "nontraditional"  services like visits to a naturopath or homeopathic doctor.  It doesn't cover supplements, it doesn't promote dietary changes in order to heal and achieve better health.  It makes an assertion that medical doctor's know best when it comes to our health.  It backs up Big Pharm and forces US citizens to buy into this medical machine.  I'm  not arguing the place of modern medicine in our lives, but another removal of personal choice- how we choose to care for our bodies in sickness and in health.

It begins to reach its arm into how we care for our children and their health.

It begins to assert that it knows more than we do, cares more than we do as parents.

This arm is not so much healthcare as it is, of course, our government.

Which has removed a child from her parents for what I consider dubious reasons.

Were the Pelletier's not following the USDA food pyramid in Justina's diet?

Were they using supplements instead of chemicals produced in pharmaceutical labs to treat her?

Are they overtly religious? More specifically, are they conservative Christians (what is now a derogatory term)?

Are these some of the real reasons for losing their daughter?

I'm not a conspiracy theorist, but I find this all highly suspicious.  And heartbreakingly sad.  The one who is losing in this case is Justina, the one the state is trying to "protect".

I hope this girl knows how much her mommy and daddy love her.  How hard they are fighting for her.

Like mama bears when their babies are threatened, I hope they don't back down.

Love is blind, it's true.  The love of a parent is not rational, it's raw. It's relentless.  Love rarely acts on fact. It is preternatural.  Love cannot, in many ways, be defined by one set of behaviors or feelings.  It is unpredictable.

I welcome your (respectful) feedback on this case.  Show me a side I don't see.  Tell me something I don't know.  But please, even if we disagree, pray for this family.