Simple Woman's Daybook 6/9

Outside my window...

We've had a rainy couple of days. Yesterday I worked the church nursery, during which it rained and thundered so hard they had to send a very frighened Mary to me. I was too busy to do much for her, except to put her in a rocking chair and give her a few hugs and kisses. If you have children who suffer from anxiety, you know there is little you can do for them, other than pray and hold them. They can't be reasoned with or talked out of it; the anxiety comes from a brain glitch.

After twenty minutes, she threw up. Yes, indeedy. She's done that before from the stress of a thunderstorm. As soon as she said her stomach hurt, I knew to have a bucket close by her. Our church meets in an elementary school and she managed to get nothing on her clothes or on any school property--not even the carpet. That's not to say I wasn't pretty busy wiping it out of the recycling container and sink with disinfectant wipes. Luckily we had only one baby, and four toddlers who were on the other side of the room.

I fear one of my nursery partners, who knows me less than some others, wondered if I'd brought my sick daughter to church. Mary keeps her fingers in her ears the whole time she's worried about thunderstorms. If that's not a hint of fear, I don't know what is.

Severe thunderstorms are forecast in the next couple of days. Not fun.

I am thinking...

I am thinking about L.M. Montgomery, who wrote the Anne of Green Gables series, which is quite an extensive series. I finished another one of the novels last night--Rainbow Valley. There are two remaining in the series. A few weeks ago I read Montgomery's biography, and since then I can't help feeling a little melancholy about the books. It's as though Lucy Maud Montgomery writes the story she wishes had been her own.

As I wrote before, she didn't marry for love so much as because in her time it was almost an obligation to marry. She was in her mid-thirties when she married her husband, a minister. He was mentally ill and she spent many years caring for him. I don't know if she knew about his mental stability when she married him, but probably not. His condition probably worsened as he grew older. They had two sons; a third son died in infancy.

It is very hard to watch the giddy happiness of those around you, when you have an excruciatingly hard life yourself. In one of the Anne books there's a young women who must care for a mentally-ill husband while living next door to Anne, who is newly, and very happily married to Gilbert Blithe. The neighbor is a beautiful but bitter woman who feels that life is like a prison sentence. In this storybook case, there's a miraculous twist and the woman is released from her fate, but such was not the case in Lucy Montgomery's real life.

The books are wonderful, high-quality literature, full of wit, wisdom, and realism. I love them, and the heart of the woman who wrote them. But I can't read them without grieving for Lucy. I am grateful that she seemed to love the true, grace-ful God and saw fit to write books that were not about bitterness, but about love and courage and wit. Being a minister's wife, she was able to expose a lot of religious hypocrisy and subtly preach grace through her stories. Grace in human relations is a major theme throughout the series--with Anne being the main instrument of grace.

Not only was Lucy's husband a burden to her throughout their 31-year marriage, but her older son was a profound disappointment as well, impregnating and then marrying a women he later left, and then later getting fired from a law firm and ending up living in his parent's basement. He possibly inherited some mental instability, and Lucy either inherited some depression, or the sadness of her circumstances caused her to develop profound depression. Her family thinks she took her own life at age 67 via a drug overdose in 1942. A so-called suicide note was left at her bedside, but an extensive biography written by Dr. Mary Rubio of Lucy's life suggests a different interpretation--that the note was yet another scribble on a piece of paper that would later become a part of Lucy's personal journal.

Lucy Montgomery's doctor, Richard Lane, wrote in the death certificate: “coronary thrombosis” as a result of “arteriosclerosis and a very high degree of neurasthenia” (the last is a general, quasi-psychoanalytic term to describe a neurotic disorder characterized by chronic weakness and fatigue).

Lucy was addicted to prescription medications, but it isn't known if she was aware of this herself, or if she just took what her doctored ordered for depression.

I was making Beth's bed this morning and thinking of the long years we've used the same bed pillows. How sad that only a small amount of money separates us from new bed pillows, which an allergy family really needs! So many people spend far more than that on a restaurant meal regularly, and then there's us, wondering when we can get bed pillows.

As soon as my brain thought this, it went to Lucy Maud Montgomery's life and her depression. If she thought of all the people in her husband's church whose children turned out better than hers, or all the husbands who were better off mentally than hers was, she probably did drive herself into a depression. If she thought of all the women who had happier lives than hers, she probably drove herself crazy--drove herself to prescription medicines.

Whatever our circumstances, the worst poison is to play the comparison game. It causes us to lose our perspective, our gratitude, our love and goodwill toward others. It causes us to lose our awe over our salvation and God's faithfulness.

Lucy had no support system. No mother of her own she could remember. No father who invested in her life. She was largely on her own, and she needed the grace and love of fellow Christians to be her family. Instead, as a minister's wife, she was most likely held to an impossibly high standard that she could never live up to--and one her husband and two children could never live up to.

Her writing was her only solace, her one joy, outside of any relationship she may have had with God. I don't know yet of that God relationship, as I can't find any information of that vein. But her writing screams of the need for grace in human relations, so I want to think that she understood something about the grace of God.

Writing is often my saving grace here at home, so I feel a kinship with this woman, but I don't subscribe to self-pity. Self-pity is the beginning of the end, in my opinion. We mustn't go there, and when we feel ourselves edging towards it, like with the pillows this morning, we must turn 180 degrees and walk the other way, counting our blessings with each step. There can be no mistake about it--self-pity is sin.

I am thankful...

~ for new mercies each morning.
~ for the power of prayer and confession.
~ for sweet faces to kiss each morning, noon, and night.
~ for a good story as food for the soul.
~ for sound lessons in 1 Corinthians.
~ that God takes our imperfect efforts and blesses them.
~ that showers bring bright flowers.
~ for the blessing that is motherhood.
~ that the easy way is never the most beautiful way.

I am wearing...

long jean skirt, fushia fitted cotton tee, healed clogs

I am reading...

after a couple night's good sleep, I will start the next of the Anne series, Rilla of Ingleside, in which Anne's youngest child (she has 6) starts out as a 15 year old. The children and I continue in 1 Corinthians in the mornings, and I am reading Colossians.

I am hoping...

and praying that my children will be close friends always. They need each other.

Around the house...

The children did some decluttering, and I did some too, but there's more to pick up after the weekend, and then on to dusting and vacuuming and folding laundry. Good Monday to you all. May God bless you and keep you.

Scripture to share...

Psalm 118:24 This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.   

Hope When You Have OCD

Some of you know that I have a son with OCD--Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. His paternal cousin also has it, as well as a maternal uncle. Many people who have ADHD also have OCD, or some other anxiety-related disorder.

What you may not know is that Obsessive Compulsive Disorder can become so debilitating that sufferers sometimes stop leaving their homes altogether. Some develop offshoot disorders, such as body dysmorphic disorder, or anorexia disorder, and either commit suicide or starve themselves to death. These outcomes are not common, but they are chilling possibilities, and if you parent children with OCD, you'd better know the signs. I have one son with moderate OCD with the potential to become severe, another son with mild OCD, and a daughter just developing OCD.

One very disturbing thing is the cost of good care, and this is true for any mental disorder. Poor or mediocre care can make OCD worse. Exposure Response Prevention--the best OCD therapy there is--is a treatment plan in which an OCD sufferer is exposed to what they most fear, such as germs. Paul fears germs but this is only mildly the case for Peter. Each sufferer is different.

During exposure time they mustn't perform their ritual, such as handwashing. Not performing the handwashing during exposure helps the brain stop sending constant messages to wash the hands over and over. The messages are sent as a way to lower the anxiety about potentially getting sick and dying. The more the anxiety is responded to, the stronger the anxiety becomes. The more the hands are washed, the more the hands have to be washed to get the same relief from anxiety.

The range of things feared by OCD sufferers is vast. A fear of germs may seem like the most typical to the uneducated public, as it's the OCD fear most characterized in movies, but this disorder goes way beyond excessive use of hand sanitizer. Every time my older son sees a girl in shortish shorts, he fears he will attack her, despite the fact he is non-violent. Fear of attacking someone is a common OCD fear for one reason or another, even though OCD sufferers are non-violent people. One can understand how it is that some never leave their homes, if they've never received proper therapy and OCD is allowed to run its ugly course. It's a progressive disorder.

For Christian sufferers exposure response therapy can be especially difficult. Peter will have to look at ladies in shorts and not perform the ritual (asking me for reassurance that he won't attack the person), in order to see shorts-clad ladies in public and not have an anxiety-ridden response.

There's a neighborhood girl, Lexie (some may remember her?), who comes in short shorts and she is a living exposure-response tool we will have to reluctantly use. Peter panics the minute she walks down the street presently. To say her visits are stressful is putting it mildly. She has just started coming back because Peter got into trouble and couldn't have visitors of his own--although she plays with all four of my kids--for a few months.

As a mother, her outfits have always bothered me (tight, short, etc.), but we try to disciple her and talking about proper dress is no way to disciple someone who may not even be saved. Even the Holy Spirit probably doesn't approach dress until many other things are taken care of in the heart first. Many a young Christian has been hurt by someone who talks about dress too soon, and there are no solid "rules" about dress anyway, so it's a very delicate topic.

Peter has read verses in Scripture that conflict with looking at the flesh, and he is already embattled about it, and of course I am heartbroken about it all. 

OCD never goes away; there is no cure. The anxiety will always be there, but a person can be taught to ignore the voice--to never perform a ritual in response to it. As soon as life becomes unduly stressful and a sufferer becomes weak again and succumbs to the rituals, the whole cycle starts again. So the key is to pray, exercise, learn to manage stress, live a routine life as much as possible, and take meds on time.

The more I read about OCD, the more I realize that only the rich have the greatest hope of beating this disorder. But, it does take courage, as well as a skilled, experienced clinician. Without the resources for the best care, Peter, my son, must rely on God to give him the courage and wisdom to fight this. We have educated ourselves and he knows what to do. He just has to force himself--with God's help--to take the very frightening steps. Part of that is letting go of the bitterness--that he must suffer from such a disorder to begin with. He has to accept with an open hand what God gives, so he can trust God completely, even in this ugly disorder, and draw strength from Him.

God is bigger than OCD. He is bigger than the healthcare system. My son has this so that God's glory will shine through his weakness. I pray that my son will grow to see this as a privilege, and that his spirit will rest in that. A tall order for a 12 year old, but not impossible.

To the rest of us not performing these rituals doesn't seem so terrifying, but to those with OCD--especially to the children who have it--it's extremely terrifying.

Here is the testimony of a 33-year-old man who has mostly beaten the disorder, after successfully completing Exposure Response Prevention Therapy. He saves the meat of his recovery talk for this year's International OCD Foundation Conference, but you catch a glimpse of the road he's walked.

Ethan S. Smith Throughout my 20’s, even though I found success as an actor, I lived a double life. I experienced constant fear and anxiety. I couldn’t do most things normal twentysomethings did. I couldn’t even leave the city without my mother or father being with me. I lived inside a box that grew smaller with every passing hour, unable to pursue my dreams. I was a prisoner in my own brain.

By the time I was 32, despite seeing numerous therapists over decades that thought they knew how to treat OCD, yet had never even heard of ERP, I found myself bedridden in my parent’s guest room. I was too scared to eat, too scared to drink, lost 100lbs, and was barely existing. I would lie on top of my hands 24/7 because I was afraid I was going to accidentally hurt myself. Finally, after getting three CT scans in three days at three different hospitals to be certain I didn’t have a brain injury from thinking I hit my head, my parents caught on that I was ritualizing and then physically prevented me from doing so. Without the ability to ritualize, and no proper therapy or coping skills under my belt, I convinced myself I was going to die and I became completely out of control. What I was experiencing was definitely a far cry from the OCD that the media likes to portray as “quirky” or “adorable.: This was an OCD that so many parents, family, and friends know too well within the confines of their homes.

Now here’s the really cool part. That “big dream” I was talking about earlier finally became a reality only three years ago when I was 33 years old. Today, I’m a 36-year-old writer, director, producer, and actor living thousands of miles away from my parents in Los Angeles, California. So what happened during that year and a half that changed my life forever? That’s what I can’t wait to share with you at the OCD Conference — and not just what happened but how it happened, because therein lies the key.

I’m not going to tell you that I don’t ever struggle now, because that’s not the truth. OCD is a disorder I will carry with me until the end. Some days, weeks, months I forget I have it, and other times it screams at me so loud I jump. The difference in my life now is that in either case, my actions are the same — I choose living a life where OCD has no say, no weight, pull, push, or power. I acknowledge its existence, but that’s where our relationship ends.

Words cannot describe how moved and elated I am to share my story with all of you at the Annual OCD Conference next month. To show you actual video footage of me when OCD was at it’s worst, and share with you the tools that helped me turn my life around. Most importantly, I look forward to meeting all of you, because we all have our stories of pain and suffering — some of us are still suffering, and some of us are on the other side of the war. In the end, we all share a common goal: to make life not about OCD but about living, and even enjoying it in the process.

Weekly Homeschool Wrap-Up 6/6

Good Friday to you. I'm not entirely sure anyone will read this due to the beautiful weather and end-of-year busyness, but I feel like writing about school and booky stuff anyway. Many of you are out of school this week, but we are in no such celebratory mood. Routine will move along as usual up through August, then a couple weeks off before we start the new year.

First Grade News:

All my four children are unique learners and one thing about Mary, age 7, is that her lessons have to be short, short, short. Her attention span isn't where I'd like it to be. I've learned so much this year in just accepting that in love. I haven't ridiculed her or chatised her, although inside I've often been irritated at the slow pace and the necessary breaks.

This year, then, I've climbed a personal mountain of sorts, in my ability as a teacher.

It helped that Mary is not mouthy or disrespectful. When she is done mentally she fidgets and takes longer to finish the simplest tasks. She asks how much longer she has to sit, or asks when she can go outside, but she doesn't argue.

She is reading fairly well now, but she still needs me nearby to help her keep abreast of all the complicated phonics combinations that are part of first-grade reading material. So many vowel digraphs, r-controlled words, and other complicated nonsense stuff. I have to admit, even though I taught it for nine years before having children, that first grade is not altogether a fun year. I used to think it was magical--the best grade ever--but now that I've taught every grade up through sixth, I think first grade is a pain. Now isn't that strange? I guess I like all the wonderful, rich content that comes later.

As a young learner I think she reminds me somewhat of Peter, in that the skills come slow--the parts themselves, but it's clear that the big picture isn't a problem. She is bright enough and can discuss ideas and draw conclusions and remember much about science and social studies, but seeing patterns in the numbers to 100, and recognizing patterns when she's reading, just don't come naturally.

Peter, now 12, didn't read well enough for me to walk away for good (meaning, no help at all), until he was eight years old. His issue wasn't remembering vowel digraph combinations so much as remembering sight words. By nine and a half he was an amazing reader, so I'm not at all worried about his little sister.

In science Mary is learning about plants and flowers and eggs and chicks. It is a group effort, with Daddy and Peter helping me teach science at times (Sonlight Science). While the Sonlight program is labeled as a K program, the written work would be very hard for a kindergarten child. It is perfect for Mary, and she loves the subject matter and all the books involved. Sonlight designs everything to appeal and work with a range of ages.

Mary continues in Explode the Code, and in Susan Wise Bauer's Writing With Ease Level 1. I thought about starting her in Sequential Spelling Level 1, but it's still a bit hard so we'll wait until the fall.

I haven't done a homeschooling post in several weeks but I've been saving up some favorite trade books to share. I'll share five this week and more next week. They're all wonderful, but in the interest of time, I'll just feature them and not comment, since dinner prep calls.

I'll write next week about what the boys are doing for school.

None of these book links are affiliate links; this is a personal blog only.

Camille and the Sunflowers A story about Vincent van Gogh by Laurence Anholt

School Library Journal Synopsis: Grade 2-4-In this story that has roots in historical fact, Camille and his postman father meet a stranger who comes to their town with no money and no friends. They give him furniture and friendship, and he paints a picture of each member of their family. The boy visits the man and takes him sunflowers, but the townspeople drive Vincent away because he's too odd and he doesn't have what they consider a real job. This sad tale can stand alone, and, while it omits important details, its tone matches that of other accounts of Van Gogh's short life. Unfortunately, the CIP information, the names and locations of the Roulin family paintings, and a biographical note about Van Gogh are printed inside the book covers under the jacket flaps. The sketchy pen-and-watercolor illustrations are punctuated with seven fine art reproductions, including a little known "Portrait of Camille Roulin" and the famous "Vase with 14 Sunflowers." The Roulins and the yellow house in which the artist stayed when he was in Arles, France, are seen in context in Bruce Bernard's Van Gogh (Dorling Kindersley, 1993). The two books complement one another and provide a greater understanding of this gifted, troubled man.

The Magical Garden of Claude Monet by Laurence Anholt

School Library Journal Synopsis: Grade 1-4-An engaging introduction to Monet's later work, featuring his gardens at Giverny. Based on a visit to the artist by a girl who turns out to be the daughter of Impressionist Berthe Morisot and a niece of Edouard Manet, The Magical Garden effortlessly combines artistic fancy with biographical fact. The simple story of a city child's day in the country is brought to life through clear text and vibrant gouache illustrations that blend seamlessly to provide an ideal introduction to Monet's temperament, work habits, and aesthetic. Anholt pulls off a deft illustrative trick, using his own fluid style to capture the flavor of many of Monet's most frequently reproduced works. Several illustrations are successful combinations of photo reproductions of Monet's paintings overlaid with Anholt's drawings of the artist and Julie. Particularly impressive is the foldout spread that depicts Monet, Julie, and her dog gliding across the lake in a small boat. The figures are incorporated into Monet's masterpiece Waterlilies: Morning. Perfect for children not old enough to enjoy the detail and comparatively intricate plot of Christina Bjork's Linnea in Monet's Garden (R & S, 1987), this volume also includes a page of biographical information about Monet.

Hot Dog! Eleanor Roosevelt Throws a Picnic by Leslie Kimmelman (NEW IN 2014)

Publisher Synopsis: In June of 1939, the United States played host to two very special guests. British monarchs King George VI and Queen Elizabeth were coming to America. As it was the first visit ever by reigning British royalty, it was a chance for America to build a stronger relationship with the British, especially in those challenging times. On the domestic side, many people didn't have jobs, housing, or food. Internationally, Adolf Hitler, Germany's leader, was threatening the countries around him and war loomed on the horizon. But First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt saw the visit as an opportunity for America to set aside its cares for a while and extend a warm welcome and hand of friendship to the royal guests. As part of the festivities, Eleanor hosts an all-American picnic that includes hot dogs, a menu item that shocks some people.


Thomas Jefferson A Day at Monticello by Elizabeth V. Chew (NEW IN 2014)

Publisher Synopsis: In this fascinating story, readers spend a day with Thomas Jefferson as he and his grandson visit the vast plantation of Monticello. Readers learn about Jefferson; the gadgets and household items that he reinterpreted and the plow he invented; the famous house; the surrounding farms with their gardens, fields, factories, and mills; the workshops of the enslaved people on Mulberry Row; and much, much more.
The book is illustrated with archival as well as newly commissioned illustrations and includes a timeline, bibliography, and index.

Praise for Thomas Jefferson A Day at Monticello
"The illustrations include excellent photos of sites, artifacts, and documents as well as paintings that extend the text. The lightly fictionalized, engaging narrative, which includes many conversations, is bolstered by sidebars offering additional information..."
--Booklist
"After finishing this beautifully illustrated book, also stocked with abundant photographs of artifacts housed at Monticello, readers will be left more curious than ever about the life and accomplishments of Thomas Jefferson."
--School Library Journal

Plant a Pocket of Prairie by Phyllis Root (NEW IN 2014)

Publisher Synopsis: Author Phyllis Root and illustrator Betsy Bowen last explored the vast, boggy peatlands of northern Minnesota in their book Big Belching Bog. Now, in Plant a Pocket of Prairie, Root and Bowen take young readers on a trip to another of Minnesota’s important ecosystems: the prairie.
Once covering almost 40 percent of the United States, native prairie is today one of the most endangered ecosystems in the world. Plant a Pocket of Prairie teaches children how changes in one part of the system affect every other part: when prairie plants are destroyed, the animals who eat those plants and live on or around them are harmed as well. Root shows what happens when we work to restore the prairies, encouraging readers to “plant a pocket of prairie” in their own backyards.

By growing native prairie plants, children can help re-create food and habitat for the many birds, butterflies, and other animals that depend on them. “Plant cup plants,” Root suggests. “A thirsty chickadee might come to drink from a tiny leaf pool. Plant goldenrod. A Great Plains toad might flick its tongue at goldenrod soldier beetles.” An easy explanation of the history of the prairie, its endangered status, and how to go about growing prairie plants follows, as well as brief descriptions of all the plants and animals mentioned in the story.

With Betsy Bowen’s beautiful, airy illustrations capturing the feel of an open prairie and all its inhabitants, readers of all ages will be inspired to start planting seeds and watching for the many fascinating animals their plants attract. What a marvelous transformation could take place if we all planted a pocket of prairie.

 Have a wonderful week!
 

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?

 

Simple Woman's Daybook 6/3

Outside my window...

It's beautiful. Truly. So green, so lush, so sunny and bright.

I am thinking...

At the church nursery Sunday I worked with a mom who will begin homeschooling her children next fall--all of whom have been public schooled up to now. She has one sister who homeschools, and three other sisters who are strongly against homeschooling because of the "socialization thing". Oh, my. This gets more irritating as the years go by.

At the thrift store recently my son Paul was confronted by an emboldened boy about 9 years old who questioned Paul mercilessly about what electronics we have around here. Do you have this game or that game? Do you have this hand-held thing or that one? You mean you don't even have this? Or that? Paul has no desire for these things because he's not bombarded with them for one, and because I've explained that they're addictive. He has heard an AWANA friend talk about playing computer games until late at night with his dad, so Paul believes me that these games are addictive. We've talked about how addiction can rob people of motivation and prevent them from setting and meeting important goals.

If school is completed, my kids are allowed 24 daily minutes of computer games Mon - Sat from CoolMathGames.com or PBS.com. That's it for electronics...our desktop PC with no software but World Book Encyclopedia.

So I was a bit surprised to find Paul somewhat frustrated and teary-eyed after the boy walked away. He explained that it wasn't about the games, but about the way the boy treated him because we didn't have them.

All I could think was, thank goodness we homeschool. My kids can be who they want to be without harassment. They can live smartly without being ridiculed for it. They can live in a state of personal peace, listening to the voices of God, of parents, of those who love them. Why is any other voice necessary at this stage of life? These are the discipling years. There are enough dissenting voices at church, at AWANA, and from neighbors to give them enough of a challenge. They wouldn't benefit from a challenge 30+ hours a week from peers.

When kids graduate from high school none of the social hierarchy matters anymore. Most of them based their identity on peer evaluations, and where did it leave them after graduation? Not knowing who they are, or what they stand for. (A minority could have been strengthened by the intense challenge, yes.)

Parents socialize their children, not peers. To be socialized is to be taught how to behave and react in a variety of situations, among people old and young, poor and rich, healthy and sick, functional and dysfunctional, educated and uneducated. All children and teens are trying to find their way and they can't help one another very much, but they can sure harm one another. They need an adult discipler, not an age-based peer group. Where else in life are there age-based peer groups?

The young man who killed six in Santa Barbara was mentally ill, but he was also distraught over being a 22-year-old virgin who didn't have a smooth way with women. He never fit in. All the shooters over the years failed to fit in. The money and privilege and sense of entitlement they suffered from was certainly part of the problem, but we can't discount how broken they were simply because they didn't fit in. God simply didn't create all of us to fit in. That isn't His system and I don't believe he wants us to create a system in our hearts or in our institutions whereby we force people to fit in. No wonder our institutions and our children are sick. The in-crowd is a bit like Hitler and his chosen people. God help us.

Children should grow up in a safe, loving environment. Daily concern over how they fit in is not safe, it's not loving, it's not healthy. Even the ones who do fit in, either because they have the right clothes, the right gadgets, the right interests, have to watch those who don't fit in suffer, and wonder if they themselves might ever fall out of grace. What if my dad ever loses his job and I lose my iPhone? Everyone who's anyone has an iPhone. What if I act too good or kind, or too smart or too conscientious? What if the teacher seems to be proud of me and the other kids sense it?

The goal becomes to be like the mainstream, not because you think the mainstream is smarter or better than you, but because to be different is risky. Some kids can handle it--and public school is a great option for them and their families--but far too many cannot.

Incidentally, if public school is the only option financially, I believe God's grace, through parents' prayers, will cover a multitude. God is faithful.

I have great respect for some local Christian public-schooled families, knowing they gave the decision lots of prayer and the Lord led them to it. And I don't have the energy for education soapboxes until I hear that homeschool is not a good option because of the "socialization issue". This is so far from the truth that anyone who utters it, especially in this current climate, embarrasses themselves, truly. I stay out of these discussions verbally, but oh, how they stir the fire in me.

Tim Challis wrote a wonderful 3-part series on homeschooling reminding the church that educational choice isn't an issue that should divide Christians. The text he uses is Romans 14 about the weak and strong brother and the holy days and the meat sacrificed to idols. His is a public-schooled family, and when he penned the article in 2011, he was increasingly seeing Christians exit the public schools so that the majority in many churches were homeschooling families.

Around here, that is far from true. Only in the last 9-12 months have homeschool families come to our church. We've been in the vast minority in our area for the 7 years we've homeschooled. Apparently, this is not true for some parts of the country.

I read all three parts of Tim's article and there were many nuggets of wisdom. And the comments section was...well, memorable. Here is a nugget of his wisdom that relates to what I'm trying to relay here:

The man who enrolls his children in public schools without counting the cost and without carefully shepherding them along the way is not weak or strong—he is stupid. The person who homeschools his children because he thinks that the 4 walls of his home will protect them from sin and worldliness is not weak or strong—he is foolish.

Our original decision to homeschool was based on a respected study indicating that 93 % of homeschooled Christians kept their faith after high school, as opposed to less than 30% of public-schooled Christians. That really spoke to us 7 years ago, but now it isn't the primary reason. Many hidden beauties of homeschooling having to do with home being where the heart is, now shine brighter. These reasons can't be explained, only felt.

I do not think and would not tell someone that homeschooling is a primary way to ensure the salvation of children. First of all, nothing can assure that, except the Holy Spirit himself. While homeschooling is helpful because of the time available, it's far less important than the father of the home being the spiritual leader. Research supports that point--that fathers make the most impact.

My advice to any parent is to know why you feel the way you do, and pray much. Be able to give a reason for your hope, either way.


I am thankful...

~ for the sweet, wonderful taste of the strawberries this year. So divine and perfect.

~ for the joy of serving dinner to guests.

~ for the privilege of being a mom.

~ a long letter from Sheila from Uganda.

~ In the warm months, blogs can get as little as a quarter of the regular traffic. So if you've actually read this far down, I'm thankful for that, friend. :)

~ the simple joy in a child's heart over park visits.

~ ground turkey--even lean ground turkey--is cheap, and there are never-ending ways of preparing it. There, I said it.

~ that I've relaxed enough as a teacher and mother to allow my learners to be what God created them to be, rather than what an arbitrary system says they should be.

~ that to my five year old there is nothing better than a cuddle in Momma's arms with a story.

~ for the power of story.

~ for the glorious old movies, for all their depth, charm, and for the way they stick with you and make you smile during the day, long after the reel stopped.

~ for my husband, who will stay up with me to watch old movies like "An Affair to Remember", and like it as much as me.

In the kitchen...

Am I the only one having trouble cooking with joy in the humidity? We do have central air, so saying this makes me a spoiled brat. Our outdoor grill has issues so I am praying for inspiration. I must cook 7 nights a week, grill or no grill.

~ taco bar, fresh grapes, strawberry shortcake

~ steamed veggies, ground turkey macaroni (brown ground turkey with spices and mix with some tomato sauce. Combine cooked noodles with meat mixture. Heat milk and some flour until thickened, turn off burner, add some grated cheese, mix until melted and smooth, combine with meat/pasta mixture. Add some grated cheese on top and bake for 20 minutes. Kid-friendly and easy. Leave a comment if you want the complete recipe.)

~ chili, cornbread, fresh fruit

~ garlic cheddar chicken, brown rice, spring mix steamed veggies

~ bowtie pasta with turkey sausage sauce, salad

~ crockpot chicken enchiladas, black beans, brown rice, thawed berry mix with vanilla ice cream

~ homemade whole wheat pancakes, fresh fruit, turkey bacon

I am wearing...

Liz Claiborne rayon thrifted skirt in navy and tan with navy tee

I am creating...

a God-centered home, I hope. Daily human capacity is not always equal to daily human goals. But God's grace fills the gap for the Christian. Praise God.

I am going...

Monday five of six dental cleanings were finished up. Tuesday we drive 30 minutes one way to give Rudy the beagle back to his foster mom. Sniff. Sniff. I finally narrowed it down to fear aggression as his main issue, after talking to a resource person the rescue operation referred me to. It's the most unpredictable type of aggression, and thus the most dangerous.

Wednesday is Beth's rheumatology check-up. Friday is a library visit. Next week we have only a speech therapy appointment and that's it. Now you have a little insight as to why we school year round. Appointments definitely tend to get in the way.

The boys and my husband and a neighbor boy have a fishing derby this Saturday morning.

I am wondering...

...what novel to have Peter read next. He's been done with Sonlight for several weeks and reading what I hand him next. He's currently reading Carry On, Mr. Bowditch, a 1956 Newbery Medal Winner by Jean Lee Latham.

Synopsis: Readers today are still fascinated by “Nat,” an eighteenth-century nautical wonder and mathematical wizard. Nathaniel Bowditch grew up in a sailor’s world—Salem in the early days, when tall-masted ships from foreign ports crowded the wharves. But Nat didn’t promise to have the makings of a sailor; he was too physically small. Nat may have been slight of build, but no one guessed that he had the persistence and determination to master sea navigation in the days when men sailed only by “log, lead, and lookout.” Nat’s long hours of study and observation, collected in his famous work, The American Practical Navigator (also known as the “Sailors’ Bible”), stunned the sailing community and made him a New England hero.

I am reading...

Still reading 1 Corinthians with the children in the mornings. Started Carry On, Mr. Bowditch but I'm not too far yet. My husband is reading The Hobbit to the boys every night after the girls go the bed.

I am hoping...

(and praying) that each child will court someone here in our home or in their beloved's home, and never consider dating.

Around the house...

clean because Sunday was Bible study and a dinner party.

Scripture to Share...

Hebrews 4:16 Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.