Your House: A Story of Love and Life

We women pride ourselves on our ability to multitask. We're different from men in that way, which is why God charged man with providing for his family, and women with the home-front tasks, such as the daily rearing of children. You can't care for children without the ability to multitask.

Case in point: a man gets his three children ready for church, his wife having gone to church earlier for choir practice. The wife did set out clothes for the children, but somehow Dad sent his youngest son to church with last year's high-water pants (two sizes too small!). The wife looked at her son in horror later, wondering where her husband even found those pants.

No, this did not happen to me. It could have, except that the choir would never want my awful voice. But once, when I went to a morning doctor's appointment while pregnant with my fourth, my husband let our middle two children out to play in their pajamas because he had no clue what to put on them.

Yes, multitasking seems to be God-sent, but even women can take it too far. One morning last week, trying to do too many things at once, I forgot to spray the bread pan before rolling up the dough and placing it in the pan. Instead of falling out nicely with a minor shake, I had to butcher the bread to get it out of the pan.

This week I again tried to do too many things at once, and I added the salt to the bread dough twice. We couldn't even eat it. Nasty. What a waste of groceries and time, but the lesson is well learned.

Here's what I've learned through breadmaking: We don't have to be everything to everybody all day long.

The sky is not going to fall if the house is a mess longer than a day, or two days. We can say...right now, I will focus on one thing. I will enjoy that one thing, and I will be grateful for the opportunity to bless through that one thing.

Too often we look around the disheveled house--disheveled because after all, kids do live in it--and we're dissatisfied with ourselves. We assume all the other moms do it better...balance it all better. Have cleaner living rooms, shinier refrigerators, wiped-down bathrooms, laundry that's folded and put away.

But this is closer to the truth: Sometimes, we read to the kids nice and long and the bathrooms don't get wiped down. We take the kids for a walk and the laundry doesn't get folded. Other days, we try to get caught up, wondering how it got so messy so fast. We fuss at the kids about their messes, making them feel like they're a bother, rather than a blessing.

The bottom line is this: Focus on relationships and don't regret what doesn't get done while you're enjoying the blessings God placed before you. Look at the messes and be grateful for them...marvel at the smart children who used their imaginations and had a good time with those fall nature specimens, even though they made a mighty mess in the process. Good minds make messes.

If you wipe down the bathrooms, give yourself permission to do it mindfully, while not trying to keep the laundry going, get snacks for the kids, and get online to pay a utility bill all at the same time.

A dissatisfied homemaker feels worthless and depressed because even though she's worked herself to exhaustion, she looks around and doesn't see much to show for her efforts--and the whole crazy thing starts all over the next morning. This is a common reason women prefer to leave the home and get a job. A job is often less maddening then being home with the kids.

The secret to happy homemaking is understanding choices and learning to be at peace with them. We all make choices for how we'll spend our time, and the women who consistently choose the house have less satisfying relationships.

I have one child who has twice said funny things about how it's going to be when he grows up. Once he announced that he was going to be strict with his children and they weren't going to make messes. Recently he said he was going to have a neat house, not one like ours.

Ouch.

My first reaction was irritation, because of course my husband and me are not the ones who generally make messes. It's the children, and this particular child is the second worst offender in that department. But quickly, my irritation melted down to amusement.

I gently prodded him and got him to admit that his house wouldn't be very fun for children, or peaceful for them, or intellectually stimulating, if no one was allowed to make messes.

And again, I prodded him to think about the mother who spends all her time cleaning, ignoring the children all the while. Would that convey love? Would that convey value? Who would be happy in a home that was made to feel like a model home you could only look at, not get comfortable in?

A home is, above all, a place for love. It's a safe haven: a place to try and fail, succeed and triumph. It's a place for exploring our talents, expanding our intellects, sharing ideas and sorrows, rejoicing one with another.

A house welcomes you in and lets you mold it to fit your unique family. It's grateful for the attention all the while. A house lives with you. It stretches with you. It's like The Velveteen Rabbit who was loved so much it became real. A house becomes a home.

A couple gets married, comes home giddy from the honeymoon, then throws themselves into making their home just so...cozy, warm, but orderly and clean. Life is good and predictable, and the state of the house is fairly uniform, except maybe around the holidays. Caring for it isn't a challenge. There's always an hour here, two hours there, to give it some attention.

Soon, the first baby appears; the couple arrives home giddy from the hospital.

Suddenly, come the feedings and the changing and rocking. Repeat, Repeat, Repeat.

In no time the house deteriorates to a shocking state. The new mother shudders to think who might visit and see it like that.

Five years later, the house is still shocking, but the messes look different.

Five more years, the messes change again but the shock value persists.

Five more years pass with no progress on the house, except when Mom gets single-minded before holiday guests and ignores everyone until the house is perfect---perfect for one hour.

Seven more years and you drive home, quiet and reflective, from the last child's wedding reception.

Gulp.

Now there's an hour here, two hours there, to care for the house, which reverts back to its pre-baby state.

But it's too quiet. Too clean. Too empty.

Momma's heart aches at the sight of each clean surface. At each quiet, orderly room...because the best years of her life all got married and moved away.

As she passes from room to room, imagining the scenes of their childhood all over again, she wonders if she made too much of the house and not enough of the kids. Did she marvel at their brilliant messes often enough? Their colorful, bold paintings? The elaborate dolly tea parties that quickly morphed into disaster areas? Their fall leaf collages that made getting the table ready for dinner a nightmare? Their mud cakes on the driveway?

Our houses go through a transformation just like we do. The walls will echo with the joys of childhood, long after the children have gone.

Make the right choices now, so you can enjoy those echoes later. Let the echos speak of love, patience, joy. Choose one thing at a time as much as you can, and let it more often than not be relationship. Let the kids bake with you, cook with you, clean with you, fold with you. Mundane tasks need not always depend on Mom alone. A task can turn into togetherness, into memory-making, into an abundant life.

Enjoy the stage your house is in now. Let that house echo of you and your family's legacy of love for centuries to come.

Wishing you and your home love, patience, joy.

Blessings,

Christine


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A Boy and His Frogs (Or My Insanity Post)

The funny thing that happened on the way to insanity. That's what this blog post is about. Cause there's not much funny about this summer and Mary's off-the-charts anxiety that is encompassing new things every week. Suddenly, spiders are not okay. Deep breath, Momma. Deep breath.

Critter photos courtesy of Peter, who is trying to get a winning photo for the annual kids' library photo contest. He won the fishing derby this year, but a photo prize has eluded him for two other years now.

A funny-to-me story about Peter's backyard escapades:

Peter was out in the backyard playing with the neighbor boy who comes to our Bible study--a boy more than slightly frog-obsessed. They conjured up a notion about catching a ton of frogs and selling them to the local pet store. Now, Peter has heard from me that you probably need a license to sell live animals to pet stores...but whatever. Apparently the ten-year-old neighbor boy's story about once selling a tree frog to the pet store for real money held more weight than anything I ever said on the subject.

On my way to the grocery store I stopped by our backyard and encountered their container of twenty-one frogs! 

Um, did I just step into one of Pharaoh's plagues?

Those were proud boys!

Only in Ohio, folks.

Don't ever tell me we made a mistake moving our two tiny boys from the California desert to Ohio back in 2005. This is a great place to raise kids; in this yard my children have cuddled with or marveled at a turtle, several snakes, squirrels, fireflies, yearly robins' nests, a bluebird nest, caterpillars and butterflies and moths and metamorphosis, sparrows' nests, hundreds of frogs and dozens of toads, yearly praying mantises, grasshoppers and katydids, a hawk, bunnies, moles, and the list goes on. It's a veritable jungle out there and not a single toy is ever needed.

I call that a perfect backyard and an ideal childhood...being one with nature and learning about the glory of God early.

So then, Peter, explaining the twenty-one frogs, takes me aside and whispers the tale about Landon's tree frog going to the pet store for real cash money, see, to which I could only shake my head, not wanting to burst his bubble with Landon right there. I did say they should let their brood go soon, though, so as not to terrorize the frogs.

At dinner that night, Peter waxed remorseful about where he let them go. Instead of going around the yard and letting the frogs go in their various and assorted hiding places, he let them all go next to one fence, shared with a neighbor. So the frogs, many of them, went to the neighbor's yard, though that isn't what Peter intended. He rather likes having a large amphibian population in his own yard, thank you very much.

An hour or so later he could hear the neighbors, over the privacy fence, talking to their guests about the bazillion frogs that suddenly appeared in their yard (like it was a huge animal-control crisis). Oops.

Their guests apparently tried to tell the ladies that it wasn't a big deal and the frogs would disappear soon--a sentiment Peter, silently listening, shared. He very much feared the ladies peering over the fence and possibly questioning him or his siblings, or worse yet, telling his parents about it.

So at dinner Peter told us guiltily what happened, thinking any minute the ladies would knock on our door, asking his parents "what the heck is up with these frogs all the sudden?"

I will not say the obvious here. ("What will the librarians think?") I didn't say it to Peter, who asked me, "Isn't this so cute, Mommy?"

I'm sitting here typing this in stitches of laughter. It just really tickled my funny bone, though no one else at dinner thought it particularly funny that night. I was the only one worried about shooting my milk across the table from uncontrolled laughter.

Peter is not used to me laughing at his mishaps. He didn't quite know what to think of his Momma, nor did his siblings, who only stared at me before finally giggling at my lack of control. Secretly, I think Peter suspected Mary's anxiety disorder had done me in.

I told him there was no problem because he didn't mean to do it and frogs are no respecter of fences and property lines anyway.

And I told my husband if the ladies next store do come over and ask about the bazillion frogs, he'd have to talk to them because I personally would not be able to stop laughing, and what if, in my hysterical state, I joked about Pharaoh and the ten plagues or something weird like that?

Because that's just like what a mother would say, who earlier that day helped get her kicking and screaming, ultra-terrified daughter into the van to go to the library on a cloudy day. I hate to think it or say it, but my grandfather had severe agoraphobia and my little girl no longer wants to leave the house. Ever. I won't know until the fall, when thunder storms go away, if it's related closely to the weather or if it really is agoraphobia, but life has gotten very complicated.

The good news is that therapy for phobias is successful 90% of the time. Fear of storms is one type of phobia.

The secret to enduring very intense times of life is...find something to laugh about. (Like Peter's sorta-like mating photos and I don't think I should be standing there when the librarians download them.)

And count your blessings.

I will write soon on part 2 of cognitive behavior therapy for anxiety, and how to integrate it with your Christian faith.

Thankful Thursday, a Psalm, a tooth

 

I have a battle cry today and here it is: 
Psalm 30:8-12

 To you, O Lord, I cry,
and to the Lord I plead for mercy:
“What profit is there in my death,
if I go down to the pit?
Will the dust praise you?
Will it tell of your faithfulness?
Hear, O Lord, and be merciful to me!
O Lord, be my helper!”

You have turned for me my mourning into dancing;
you have loosed my sackcloth
and clothed me with gladness,
that my glory may sing your praise and not be silent.
O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever!

Every time I think the thing with my mother is getting better--that the distance I put between us is making a difference in my overall health--someone will call or give an opinion in some way. My brother will say, "You've got to call mom." Or an aunt will offhandedly say, "I think unconditional love is the best thing always."

Then, all my hard-fought peace will disappear once again and I'm back at square one. This time vertigo appeared, which is sometimes my body's response to extreme stress. I have to lie down with the vertigo, and the kids always get stressed when I lie down. Then I get more stressed because I'm angry that this is affecting my kids.

 

How I hate the power this woman has over my health and well-being! I know she is not the enemy and that we all fight the same enemy. I know inside she is miserable and that if she had the courage to be honest, she feels terrible for the way her choices have affected her three children. On the surface she sees me as a terrible, self-righeous person and hating me is easy for her, although she would never admit it. I have to hope that somewhere deep inside, she knows my recommendation for rehab is spot on, and that even though she is in her early 70's, she'll realize it is never too late to live well, to live in truth, and make amends.

 

Will God make beauty from these ashes? From all these wasted years? From all these broken relationships? How much cooperation will he need from my mother? Will she ever give him any, and if not, will he pluck her unaware, like he did the Apostle Paul on the road to Damascus? I've never met a person more hostile to the gospel than my mother, and that scares me most of all.

 

Pray with me for a miracle, please?

 

Thankful Thursday Kids' Addition

 

Paul

~ lots of seeds

~ that I found the morning glory seeds we saved from last year's crop

~ a very pleasant day so we can plant more seeds

~ no clouds or humidity, blue skies

~ for my family

~ that we're going to the fishing contest and our neighbor Landon gets to come

~ that I'm homeschooled

~ that God saved us from our sins

 

Mary

~ sunny, blue skies

~ that I can dig a garden spot for some flowers

~ for my sister

~ movies to watch when I'm sick or scared

~ blankets to cuddle with when I'm cold or scared

~ God gives us food to survive and help when we pray

~ such a wonderful, pleasant day today

 

Beth

~ that I lost my tooth today

~ for Thankful Thursday

~ for plenty of robins in the yard

~ that I love my sister Mary

~ that my Mommy thinks I'm funny and smiles at me and hugs me (oh, but she loves to be the cute one!)

 

Peter

~ for birds, and nesting bluebirds in our yard

~ for corn seeds to plant

~ for gardens

~ siblings

~ my mom and dad

~ trees

~ our friend Landon

~ the fishing contest

~ flowers

~ eternal life

~ that God answers prayers

~ that there's joy in the garden from the Lord

 

Little Beth's front teeth have been loose for several weeks, and the dentist said she needs to wiggle them faithfully, for she hadn't been doing so and her gum was bruised. My other three drove themselves and us crazy wiggling their loose teeth, talking about them, and generally obsessing about them until they finally came out. Then we breathed a sigh of relief.

 

You know how it is?

 

Not so with Beth. She completely ignored the loose teeth, and wiggled them only upon command for a second or two. I kept forgetting to work on them myself, except for a couple minutes after brushing, which wasn't enough and I wasn't going to keep her up later doing it. I guess the exhausted Mommy in me had faith that God had a plan for these kids who weren't bothered by loose teeth, and surely we weren't supposed to keep their tired bodies up late wiggling and yanking teeth?

 

More weeks went by and she continued to ignore them. The permanent teeth did their job, however, and one of baby teeth finally begin to hang down, but still, it didn't bother her and she ignored it.

 

This morning she was eating a banana--her most favorite food in the whole world. She came over to me with a gap in her mouth, her tongue touching it. "Mommy, there's something wrong with my tooth."

 

"It fell out!", I said triumphantly. "Where is it? We need to leave it for the tooth fairy."

 

"I'll go get it! I thought it was a seed in the banana."

 

She proceeded to fetch it and bring it to me.

 

I put the tooth in a baggie, to be put under her pillow later. Next she says to me: "But, Mommy, since there's really no tooth fairy, can you just give me the dollar?"

 

Daddy, aka the tooth fairy, is rarely on time with the loot, so the tooth fairy is kind of a joke around here with the older ones, who haven't given Beth a lot of faith. 

 

Anyway, today I'm thankful for all five year olds...and especially for mine, for she makes my heart sing. She reminds me that nothing in this world is so serious after all. If you look through the lens of a five year old, you'll see all the beauty you need for that smile, and have all the faith you need to climb that mountain.

 

What are you thankful for today, friends?

 

Thankful Thursday Family Edition 5/22

Ephesians 5:20 Giving thanks always for all things to God and the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ;

Beth, age 5

~ that I have super funny books
~ that I have a funny sister who can tickle me at any minute
~ that I can talk to, drink "tea" with, and play with my sister
~ that I love my sister
~ that I have my family
~ I love trees

Mary, age 7

~ for my funny, laughable, cute sister Beth
~ I love the strength in my hands to tickle my sister until she explodes with giggles
~ that God gave me a great family
~ I love the blue sky and sun and the beautiful leaves on the trees
~ for my family and friends

Paul, age 10

~ that I'm finally feeling better
~ that I like math and I'm good at it
~ that we have so many plants in the greenhouse
~ that I can go to the library
~ that I have a good church and nice people at AWANA
~ the new neighbors--I hope they're nice and have kids

Peter, age 12

~ my mom and dad
~ trees
~ my house
~ my garden and greenhouse
~ siblings
~ new neighbors
~ my bed
~ my dog
~ my snake
~ my library books

Daddy, age 55

~ my wife and children
~ that I have a car and that it keeps running
~ my jobs
~ birding and hiking
~ sunny days
~ that God always provides

Mommy, age 48

~ the thunder never came and my Mary is happy as a lark
~ the calm, therapeutic time Peter spends in his greenhouse
~ my children's love of the library, as though it is just as sweet as Christmas itself
~ the family all laughing over a book
~ old movies; the charm, innocence, loftier values
~ a working lawn mower
~ biography about Corrie ten Boom
~ full days at home to enjoy each other, and to enjoy God and his bounty and provision
~ that sunshine and hope follow dark moments, so that despair can't put down permanent roots

What are you thankful for, friends?

I'm Not a Silly Momma

No, not me. I did not look at my 5-year-old daughter's mouth on Sunday and see what looked like decay on her gums--a greenish, grayish section above the top front teeth, which were both loose.

I did not spiral into a nervous depression over the sight of her gums, which were one more thing in a child who has had her share of pain and discomfort, what with an autoimmune disease and needle sticks 4x a year and many appointments and two prescription drugs.

I did not research for an hour about absesses. I did not despair the problems of life, and feel deep shame that my daughter's gums could get so ugly looking, probably from decay (although I care well for her teeth).

I did not make an appointment as soon as possible, thinking the worst. I didn't research for another hour, either. I did not write a half-page letter, explaining my daughter's medical history, including her two front capped teeth (because I would be in the waiting room with my other 3 children).

Nor did I feel heavy sorrow for two days, leading up to the appointment. I did not feel panicky today while driving to the appointment. I did not have to pray all through the appointment.

No, not me.

The dentist called me back and reported there's no decay on her gums and she didn't, in fact, have any cavities anywhere. Her front teeth were within a week of falling out, he suspected, and the greenish, grayish gum was a sign of irritation because her teeth had been loose and she wasn't helping them along by wiggling them. Gums don't like prolonged loose teeth, it turns out.

I did not get teary-eyed back in the waiting room, after my mini-conference with the dentist, so grateful that I'm not a bad mommy after all.

I am not a silly Momma. No, not me.

(Peter and Paul think I should be embarrassed, but I'm too incredibly relieved to feel embarrassed.)

 

A Woman's Peace

Are you at peace right now, my friend? As you search your heart and mind, is it in a good place? A holy place?

The last several days, this has not been so for my husband and me. While we both feel a dog would reduce our son's ADHD/OCD stress--and therefore the whole family's stress--at the same time, it seems like we can't squeeze our budget any tighter, and dogs require more than leashes and dog food. Our heads are spinning and yet medicine is clearly not helping our son's neurological issues enough. Something more is needed, and our friend who suffers from OCD herself confirms that, yes, dogs do help.

I need a job, my head screamed. We simply cannot live any longer without me bringing home an income of some sort. I checked again for online writing jobs, but the niches advertised were not faith, homeschooling, education, or parenting/mothering.

I've long wondered how mothers maintain professional blogs/work-from-home jobs and keep up with technology and three or four social media accounts, and still say hello to their children. Social media, I'm sure, like blogging, has its good points, but it has taken many a mother down by Internet and status addiction. I hate social media and the thought of its mandatory presence in the life of writers turns my stomach. I've read from more than one writer that she went kicking and screaming into social media, to reluctantly honor a writing contract with a publisher.

We can't get these years back and children can easily feel emotionally neglected by a mother whose face is always down in a phone or staring at a computer screen, too distracted to listen attentively or truly care what a child is saying. The computer is every bit as addicting as drugs or alcohol.

As I perused the writing jobs and thought about deadlines and the need for a perfect copy, and the time to sell oneself and maintain a social media presence, I collapsed onto the computer desk, absolutely sure working from home is not for me.

It's one thing to love the written word and blow off a little steam by writing myself into an understanding of what God is saying to me--to produce typo-infused blog posts several times a week. But it's quite another to think about your audience and how you can serve it. Or the technology and how you can master it. Or your "brand" and how you can develop and market it. Some women are so talented and organized, they can accomplish more than the majority and still be a loving wife and mother. I am not that woman.

My heart is at home...not the home that is a place, but the home that is God's heart for a woman. My heart is with my children and cheering them, shepherding them, teaching them, praying for them. My heart is with my husband and praying for him and loving him.

The key, my friend, to a heart and mind that is at peace, is to know what God asks of you and do it.

He asks us to pray and drink of His Holy Word, he asks us to be keepers at home, he asks us to be servants. A servant isn't someone who just serves, for in deciding where and how you will serve, you maintain the control. A true servant gives God all the control, even when the wait or the task seems impossible. A true servant lays down his life for the Master...his own desires, his ego, his own comfort.

When I quit working in 2005, it was with the understanding that God never asked me to bring in an income in the first place. Women are supposed to be resourceful and frugal with money, but they aren't asked to support the family. Contributing regular support through a paying job is extra-Biblical for women. Not wrong necessarily, just something extra that God didn't command. As I said, some women can do this extra, and still do what God commanded of them.

It wasn't working for me. Even as a part-time, work-from-home mom, I couldn't keep up with everything and the result was a woman who wasn't doing anything well, least of all the very things God asked her to do.

I had to relearn all these lessons this week, and finally, Saturday morning, my peace returned.

Similarly, my husband isn't asked by God to support us in style, or to support a dog as well as us. He's supposed to support us to the best of his ability, and lead us spiritually as well. We can't heap extra things on ourselves and expect to maintain peace and joy.

Matthew 11:30 (NLT) For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light."

1 John 5:3 In fact, this is love for God: to keep his commands. And his commands are not burdensome,

We may or may not need a dog. Only God knows for sure. The Bible teaches that it's not really my husband who provides, but God. My daily bread is not dependent on my husband's pay rate, but on God's love and mercy. When I seek first His Kingdom and His righteousness, my daily bread is secure.

If a dog is necessary for our peace, God will provide it as one of "these things that will be given to me as well."

Do Not Worry (source here)

25“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? 26Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?27Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life^e ?

28“And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. 29Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. 30If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? 31So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ 32For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. 33But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

He knows what is needed. I am His servant and my thoughts and heart need to be focused on that. On being ready and willing to bend to His will and live this: "Your Kingdom come...Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven."

How are you, friend? Are you at peace?




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My Mary and a Boy Named Jonah

My older daughter's middle name could be Jonah-Who-Wouldn't-Go-to-Ninevah. Her brand of stubbornness runs deep on her father's side, with my father-in-law leading the pack. It skipped my husband entirely, but not so his sister.

Several months ago we were having a conversation, Mary and me, and don't ask me how it started because I can't even remember. I told her about the Biblical mandate for her marriage prospects: a Christian husband or no husband.

Her response?

Was it news to a mother's heart? Not even close. She responded, "That's stupid."

Right then and there, my heart panicked. Oh, Lord. How will I ever usher her into biblical womanhood, with stubbornness leading her heart? Please. Don't let her go her own way and break your heart and mine.

In all fairness to her then-six-year-old self, I should say that the boy across the street is pretty cute in Mary's estimation. The thought of him probably prompted her hasty response.

The story doesn't end with my desperate prayer that night, and every night thereafter.

At our new AWANA is a boy named Jonah. If you named your son this, I'm probably going to offend you with this, but why? Did your son stay in the womb an extra two weeks, prompting you to name him Jonah? Was it because right away, he was stubborn? Don't get me wrong...the name itself, I love. It's adorable. But Jonah wasn't exactly a Biblical hero, so as much as I like the name, I wouldn't want it for an official birth-certificate name.

So, there's this boy in Mary's Sparks class. He's cute. He's sassy. He's Jonah. He thinks my Mary is pretty and he wants to marry her, thank you very much. He told the teacher so and I heard it myself.

At the last AWANA meeting he gave my Mary a Christmas bell necklace to match his own. No, not an engagement ring, but my girl wore it proudly, as if it were one.

The Sunday before, after bedtime prayers, my Mary said, "Mommy, I hope you're not going to be mad about this, but I called Jonah "Sugar" tonight."

Inwardly, I rolled my eyes, but there may have been a slight smile show on the corner of my mouth. Girls are so different from boys, I tell you. They have a matchmaking radar, it seems, rather early, that boys for the most part do. not. share. (This Jonah excluded, apparently.)

I tried to explain what flirting was and that maybe it wasn't such a good idea to call a boy "Sugar". But the concept of flirting was over her head, so I very soon gave up.

My kids have church verses to learn, as well as AWANA verses, and one week Mary had to memorize the Lord's Prayer. She rather liked it, and that's an understatement. She went around for three week straight, saying the Lord's Prayer several times a day, because she could. Verses are her thing; she loves them.

So another night, after bedtime prayers, she told me, "Mommy, I tried to teach Jonah the Lord's Prayer tonight."

"That was sweet of you. How did he do?"

"He gave up. It was too hard."

"Mommy, do you think Jonah is a Christian?"

That sentence right there? It melted me. Here's my little girl, stubborn as all get out, remembering the Biblical mandate for her marriage prospects, and now, a few months later, instead of saying it's stupid, she's taking it to heart. The Holy Spirit is winning. My little girl really likes this boy, but she's showing allegiance to God now, not just to herself.

Parenting is nothing if not a desperate, lengthy, on-going prayer.

I don't agree with the boyfriend/girlfriend thing, but I'm grateful it prompted discipling issues that need to be discussed very early in our children's upbringing. It should be on their radar very early: "God says: marry a Christian, or don't get married".

Just between you and me, the little boy is stubborn, just like my Mary. He was playing with his bell necklace and had the little bell part in his mouth, unattached to the necklace part. Being an ex-classroom teacher, I don't give as much slack as children's church teachers usually do. Many don't discipline and church classes can be a waste of time, due to unresolved behavior issues. I'm kind but firm, because to survive in a classroom day after day, you have to be.

Sadly, two of my children have AWANA classes with no discipline, and the boys' class at our church provides no dicipline for the Goofy Boys Club. (Elementary is not my jurisdiction at church; there's a reason I only signed on to be the Birth-Kinder children's coordinator.)

It's so sad the way upper-elementary boys think they have to act goofy and stupid to fit in. I call it the Goofy Boys Club, and it's getting our nation's boys no where. I suspect the bullies lead it, and the other boys feel they either have to fit in and act goofy themselves, or get bullied. Unfortunately, the bullies lead the schools, and there's precious little school staff can do about it, because they can't follow the kids everywhere, and when a child tattles on a bully, it just gets worse.

My boys don't enjoy going to classes because of the goofiness, but neither do they prefer listening to long sermons in the sanctuary.

Anyway, I was sure any minute the teacher or myself would have to do the Heimlich choking manuvear regarding this bell in Jonah's mouth. I told him having the bell in his mouth was dangerous, and would he please take it out? He did, but only temporarily. It went back in his mouth, so I took it from him, yucky as it was to hold it in my hand while the teacher finished the Sparky story.

Then he began hitting his neighbor with the string of his necklace, and I told him to pay attention to the story. He kept doing it, so I asked for the necklace. He said, "No." I gave him a firm, teacher-type look, and told him he was being disrespectful.

Immediately, he gave it to me, a guilty, sorrowful look on his face.

There was her question, hanging in the air. "Mommy, do you think Jonah is a Christian?"

I thought about the bell and necklace incident, which had happened that night. I thought about the repentent face.

"Yes, I do think he's a Christian, Mary. He's a silly boy, but I could see in his eyes that the Holy Spirit has a hold on him."

This marked the end of the conversation that particular night, but there's more to say.

We all have a long way to go, Mary, in trying to be like Jesus. Jonah is no exception. He might disappoint you with his behavior sometimes, and when he does, remember that the Lord never disappoints. The Lord is always a perfect gentleman. The Lord, and no one else, must be your strength and your song.

Exodus 15:2 The LORD is my strength and my song, and he has become my salvation; this is my God, and I will praise him, my father’s God, and I will exalt him.

Mary Writes a Song

Busy hanging clothes the other day, I was graced with Mary's presence, her face all a glow.

"Mommy, I wrote a song in my head and I need you to write it down." 

Mary's Best Song

Oh, Lord, I need you.
You take me up.
You clear my heart from sin,
You make me new again

Hopefully there will be another stanza soon!

Beth's Surgery and a Volunteer's Heart

My little Beth had her tonsil and adenoid surgery yesterday morning. She and I stayed overnight and arrived home this morning. She woke up about every two hours last night and the stay wasn't much different than my time in hospitals with my newborns.

Exhausting. Nurses in and out frequently.

When they first brought me into recovery Beth was crying inconsolably, and despite my best efforts, the crying continued. It wasn't long before I felt like crying myself, overwhelmed with her need and my own emotions over seeing her in pain and so helpless.

I prayed for strength, and for her to relax so the pain medicine would work.

A volunteer senior citizen stopped by her bed, noticing she'd been upset. He was God's angel.

Children's hospitals have a strong volunteer staff from the community, represented largely by senior citizens. We go to this hospital many times a year--Beth's rheumatologist is there, as well as the ophthalmologist who treats her intermittent, arthritis-associated eye inflammation.

This sweet volunteer brought Beth a volunteer-crafted, fabric-covered teddy bear, gorgeous and girly, full of tiny butterflies and pastel prettiness.

One look at that beautiful teddy bear made Beth stop crying. She accepted it immediately and hugged it to her breast, as though all the love put into it flowed into her little heart.

Tears in my eyes, I touched his arm and told him how grateful I was. He was just so pleased, his eyes telling me how much he loved his job.

As I watched Beth, a dedicated little mother, hug that teddy for the next 24 hours, I knew that in my old age I would be a hospital volunteer, helping children and overwhelmed mothers overcome moments of hospital despair.

Nothing is so big that love can't eclipse it. Hasn't our Heavenly Father taught us that? That the greatest of these is love?

1 John 4:7
Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God.

Colossians 3:14
And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity

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Childhood, Joyful and Rich

Did I tell you about my Mary?

She smiles at a pretty dress, but needn't try it on just now; no thanks Mom. She's interested in only girly colors, but unlike her thoroughly-girly sister, who changes clothes for fun, my Mary puts clothes in their place.  

Clothes are for covering us, nothing more.

When Mary awakes, nature sings unto her heart, beckoning her. As fast as she can, she dresses, waiting for Mom to have a shower so she can go outside. She submits to the morning hair brushing, dreaming of the escapades to come.

She makes frogs her friends, observes bugs, searches for snakes, plays with water and mud, catches butterflies, swings on tree branches. She becomes one with her environment.

The adventures change with the weather. Sometimes, when there's a heavy rain and laundry is already plentiful, I keep them in, preventing a muddy onslaught.

Other days I remember, thanks to the Holy Spirit and my own mother-spirit, that childhood is for getting dirty and exploring. For laughing at the rain and dancing to its beat.

Childhood is an open book upon which each day writes its own story. Childhood is for believing in joy and creating joy from the raw materials God provides.

Childhood is for inspiring the adults. Have faith like one of these, my Father tells me.

Toys r' Us has nothing on a glorious Heavenly Father who knew us before we were born. The richest child doesn't own toys. The richest child has a yard or a safe street and a Momma who will do the extra laundry and run a bubble bath.

After four hours in a muggy Ohio rain, clothes and body wearing mud from head to toe--high fashion for a child--she came in when I called her for a bath, some lunch and a little school.

Smile wide and wondrous, and grateful too, she announced:

"That was the most fun I've ever had!"

As moms we need to remember how the tyranny of chores can rob us of joy in the moment. But our kids? They live in the moment, unless we ruin that for them. Let's not over-schedule them or over-indulge them.

The Lord loves the little children and what does he want for them? To be able to go outside and say, "What do you want to show me today, God?"

A child's first experience of God is a personal one, not a parent-directed one. God reveals himself through his Creation. When they are told that first time, Genesis 1:1 In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth, the lights begin to go on and when they go outside, they remember.

God created. Flowers. Trees. Birds. Water. Mountains. Rivers. Sun. Stars.  

God created everything and everything is as interesting as it is beautiful. And He loves me.

The magical moments that make childhood rich are put together by God, not by the local Rec Center employees or camp counselors.

When I asked Mary what Bible verse she wanted to say on stage at the end-of-year AWANA awards assembly, she didn't hesitate.

Genesis 1:1 In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.

When Mary goes outside, she worships. God put His glory in her midst and now she knows Him intimately. He's the glorious God who put the purple in flowers and the yellow in butterflies. He sent the rain that made the puddle that beckoned and delighted her.

source

Set the little children free so God can speak to them in a way they understand. Set them free to find Joy, and Peace the Person.

Homeschool and Mother's Journal, May 31

In my life this week:
I'm nearly there in experiencing victory over rebound headaches! This has been a long-time prayer and I thank the Lord for His wisdom and healing. I'm so excited about this new-found health!

The central air conditioner in our house went out again today, so it wasn't all good this week. Last week it was the circuit breaker, but we checked that first thing this time. We can't afford a new unit so I pray it's something minor. This Momma needs her air; some people do heat well but that's not me. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. I'll be saying that a lot if we lose our central air!

I'm doing fine washing dishes by hand after last month's dishwasher demise, but I must say, doing dishes in the hottest water you can stand gets very hot in the summer!

Wearing lighter clothes this time of year means less laundry. My whole house is neater and cleaner because of the time freed up. Makes it easier to host and teach a Saturday Children's Bible Study here in our home.

Our friend Dean helped Peter repair one of our bird boxes and now we have a bluebird pair nesting in our yard!

In our homeschool this week:
I'm working my girls hard (ages 4 and 6) now that they sit still longer. We added in regular modeled writing. I use chart paper to write the sentences they dictate, talking about grammar and spelling while I write, eliciting the sounds from them as we sound out the words together. Then, they use a pointer and read the "daily news" back to me. I then copy their sentences onto lined paper and cut them apart between each word, and the girls put them back in order and read their sentence to me, and read the words out of order too.

We added in a second read-aloud session, starting our school day with 5 stories chosen from Honey For A Child's Heart.



Here are the favorites this week:


Publisher synopsis "Bobby was named after his best friend, his grandfather, Bob," begins Tomie dePaola's heartwarming tale of the special relationship between grandchild and grandparent, Now One Foot, Now the Other (1981). The title refers to one of the boy's favorite stories: how Bob taught Bobby to walk. And after Bob has a stroke, it's Bobby's turn to help his grandfather relearn how to walk. 

My notes: The special bond grandfather and grandson share is so heartwarming and the tale itself is woven expertly. I never wanted it to end but it ended grandly! We were all smiles (and Momma was in tears too).




 Publisher Synopsis: If you are lucky you know someone like the elderly lady in this book. Whenever she sees you--coming home from school, trick-or-treating at Halloween, or walking with your dog in the wood--she makes you feel special. She is someone you admire. She is someone you love.

My notes: Great for reinforcing seasons, hospitality and kindness. The girls and I loved this!



Publisher Synopsis: When a young girl from a poor eastern European village learns that she must leave her beloved grandmother for a new life - and a new love - in America, they both feel that their hearts will break. The sure and inspired narrative by award-winning author Amy Hest is paired with paintings by P.J. Lynch that glow with warmth and carefully observed detail, creating an unforgettable tribute to the immigrant experience.

My notes: Very special story and a wonderful social studies selection for all ages. I don't know why this didn't win a Caldecott Medal; the paintings are so exquisite. I had to linger on every page...the detail and beauty were so amazing.



Publisher Synopsis:  Springtime is here, and Zinnia can’t wait to plant her seeds and watch them grow. She carefully takes care of her garden, watering her plants, weeding, and waiting patiently for something to sprout. And soon enough, the first seedlings appear! With art just as colorful as a garden in bloom, young readers will enjoy watching Zinnia’s beautiful garden grow, and may even be inspired to start one of their own.

Good Reads Synopsis: Zinnia grows many kinds of flowers in her garden. Sunflowers, sweet peas, and (of course) zinnias bloom in the sunshine. Customers come to pick their own bunches of flowers. Bouquet-bright artwork shows all Zinnia's tasks, from planting the seeds to cutting the beautiful blooms. The perfect tie-in to elementary biology units about plant growth-and school gardens-this book will be especially welcomed by teachers. It is a splendid addition to Monica Wellington's nonfiction for the very young and a true spring delight that's good in any season

My notes: A must-read for preschool and lower elementary. What a beautiful, exciting science book!



Publisher Synopsis:  Apple cider, applesauce, apple muffins, cakes, and pies! Annie is a very busy apple farmer. She bakes yummy treats with the apples she picks and saves her best apples to sell at the market. Follow Annie through her apple-filled day of picking, counting, sorting, baking, and selling, and then try making some of her simple apple recipes.

My notes: Another outstanding preschool and lower-elementary science pick!

Publisher Synopsis:  One afternoon late in August, before the start of a new school year, Jay finds Cricket. Cricket fits just right in small spaces--like under a tea strainer or in Jay's very own pocket--and Cricket makes the most exciting sounds. But what happens when it's time to go back to school? Will Cricket come too?

Forty years after its original publication, this charming tale continues to capture the imaginative world of a child.
 

On his way home with the cows one evening, a six-year-old Kentucky farm boy catches a cricket and makes it his friend. The story reveals a child's sense of wonder about nature in verse-like prose. Caldecott Honor Book. 

Publisher's Weekly: Honoring its 40th anniversary, the Caldecott Honor book, A Pocketful of Cricket by Rebecca Caudill, illus. by Evaline Ness, is back, starring six-year-old Jay who meanders through the countryside and finds striped beans that "felt cool-like morning," an arrowhead and a cricket that he brings home, among other treasures. Caudill's gentle sentences pair well with Ness's charming vintage scenes in mustard, red, avocado and black inks. 

My notes: As a mother of boys and littles, I can definitely say this book captures the wonder of childhood. Excellent nature book we can use to give thanks to God for his glorious gifts. I loved every descriptive word and all four of my kids did too! Outstanding story.


My boys had a great school week too, but in the interest of time I'll be brief about them this time.

Peter, age 11, thanks to the Teaching Textbooks math program he's used for 2.5 years, now says he likes math and he thinks he's good at it! I can't tell you how thankful I am for this program and for my son's new enthusiasm!

Peter's spelling skills, too, have come a long way...so much so that I no longer consider him behind in spelling (or in anything, actually). This year has been one of real blossom. All the reading he's been doing for the last three years has had a great impact on his writing and spelling skills. Nothing helps more than 2 hours of reading a day, which he gets between literature, science and history. We do read-alouds with him on top of that. I like our spelling program, Avko Sequential Spelling, but it didn't have half the impact reading itself did.

Helpful homeschooling advice to share:
Don't fret when a child has difficulties. Pray them through. Pray for guidance on curriculum choices and then wait for the Lord, and the books, to do their work. Cut out worksheets as much as possible and get them reading.

Places We're Going and People We're Seeing:
The children enjoyed another year of A Day Out With Thomas the Train on a strangely cold May day, tickets compliments of the Children's Hospital 4-year-old Beth goes to for Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis. The boys also enjoyed two fishing trips with Daddy and our friend Dean. The girls and I went along for one of them and after a couple of hours of fishing we all enjoyed a two-mile hike.

Neither Dean nor my husband care much for fishing, but they're glad to help the boys. I must say, though, it's stressful due to all the problems that occur with the poles. The boys and Mary caught a multitude of 4-inch blue gill, reeling in one right after the other. Peter kept them to fertilize our garden with, which he does every year.

 

Our friend Dean giving Beth a break from walking.

The two kids next to us weren't catching anything so my boys took them under their wing and gave them worms, baited their hooks and advised them not to reel the line in so often. The little girl then did catch one fish and she was thrilled. Seeing my Peter help her warmed my heart so! Their father wanted to fish himself and he was very impatient with his kids, not wanting to untangle their lines or bait them. It made me appreciate my husband's brand of fathering so much, let me tell you. He's a wonderful Daddy--not perfect, but sacrificial, always putting his children first. Sometimes you have to witness another father in action to gain new appreciation of your husband's family ways.

While at the nature park and pond, few to no mosquitoes, thank the Lord, even though we were on a deeply wooded trail. I keep saying we're having a minor drought here in Northeast Ohio, and the low water level in creeks points to the same. No mosquitoes is nice but it usually means not enough rain in these parts, and conversely, too many mosquitoes means too much rain. Food prices went up after last year's serious drought so I'm hoping for good crops this year.

Peter will enter the children's library photo contest again this year. He turned in fine photos last year but the winner took a picture of a cute pig and it seems all kids--who are the main voters--love pigs. My Peter has it in his mind that to win this contest he must have a pig photo. Lo and behold, our friend Erica keeps pigs out at her parent's 32-acre estate. We're all going out there next week to visit the pigs so Peter can take photos. They told us they'd bring the whipped cream because the pigs are hilarious when they get that special treat; Erica and her husband shoot it right into their mouths.

This is their second collection of pigs, and they name them all, so it was disconcerting to hear them talk about how good the bacon was from their last collection. Don't ask me how you can name a pig and have fun with it, and then talk about how good its bacon was, but whatever, we love this family. I want to live on a farm alright, but I don't want to kill any animals or think about them going to slaughter. Silly, I know.

Tomorrow the boys will take part in a kids' fishing derby contest at our favorite nature park. Three hours of untangling lines and such; my husband is a saint.

My Favorite Thing This Week:
Our nature hike last Sunday. So special to be all together, exploring and exercising.

My Kiddos Favorite Thing This Week:
The water balloons they played with in the backyard today.

Things I'm Working On:
I'm studying humility in my quiet time and really enjoying that. Peter is working on the garden and I hope to help him finish up this weekend.

I'm Cooking:
So far this week for dinner: crockpot porkribs, turkey sloppy joes, turkey burgers, spaghetti, crockpot whole chicken. We filled the propane tank today so grilling is next!

I'm Grateful For:
My Lord, my husband, my children, our friends, our garden, the healing power of prayer, family devotions in Isaiah, flowers, birds, hiking trails, pretty ponds, sweet kids

I'm praying about:
Our 11-year-old neighborhood friend, Lexie, repeated the fourth grade this year and still earned D's and F's. I'm praying about having her come every day in the summer to use our 4th grade Teaching Textbooks CD Rom. I know it would help her and staying a couple hours for school with us would too. But, she is high maintenance; her ADHD makes her jump from one activity to another like the If You Give a Mouse a Cookie book series. My son Peter doesn't have this same type of ADHD--he's not inattentive, just hyper and impulsive. She's an exhausting guest but I love her and want to help her, but part of me is screaming "NO way! I can't do it!" I plan on praying another week before mentioning it to her. She's said many times she wishes I could homeschool her--not to improve her grades, but because she gets bullied at school.

Homeschoolers or not, we all need to pray for the nation's youngsters; bullying is a complicated, heartwrenching problem.

Poem to Share (for upcoming Father's Day):

A Father's Prayer

Lord, make me tolerant and wise;
Incline my ears to hear him through;
Let him not stand with downcast eyes,
Fearing to trust me and be true.
Instruct me so that I may know
The way my son and I should go.

When he shall err, as once did I,
Or boyhood folly bids him stray,
Let me not into anger fly
And drive the good in him away.
Teach me to win his trust, that he
Shall keep no secret hid from me.

Lord, strengthen me that I may be .
A fit example for my son.
Grant he may never hear or see
A shameful deed that I have done.
However sorely I am tried,
Let me not undermine his pride.

In spite of years and temples gray,
Still let my spirit beat with joy;
Teach me to share in all his play
And be a comrade with my boy.
Wherever we may chance to be,
Let him find happiness with me.

Lord, as his father, now I pray
For manhood's strength and counsel wise;
Let me deal justly, day by day,
In all that fatherhood implies.
To be his father, keep me fit;
Let me not play the hypocrite!

Edgar Albert Guest
Have a blessed week, friends!
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