Well, the days keep flying by. We are getting ready for a nice vacation break that we are really looking forward to. Because of S's new job we have not had a long break since we moved here. So, we view this as a real provision from the Lord to have some time off. We are heading out in the wee hours of the morning on Thursday for Arkansas. We are so excited to be able to visit S's parents, as well as his sister and her family. The cousins do not know we are coming, so we are going to try and surprise them. It is a long journey, but we hope to make it all in one day. We plan on being gone about a week. It is so nice to have the break from school and the children can hardly contain their excitement
So this week is already been very busy. Last night we went into town and got some things that we needed for the trip. Yesterday and today I have also used this time to reorganize and assess the children's clothes. We have redone their drawers and it feels so nice to get that done. I have done loads and loads of laundry, cleaned out my refrigerator, etc. S has been getting the van ready, making a neat table for the children to be able to use on the trip. He is going to turn the seats around, so the two benches face each other with the table in between.
He is only going to work until noon tomorrow, and I will be packing. Then tomorrow night we will try to load as much as we can for an early start Thurs. morning. Since, not much will be open at all on the 25th, we are packing our food for the trip as well.
We are also having a young man stay with us for the next few days. He is interested in moving to the area to be a part of our church, and has been staying with our dear friends the M family in NC for a few days. We are expecting him soon tonight.
Many of you know that we do not celebrate Christmas, but something funny happened last night that I wanted to share. We were having pizza, because like I mentioned we were out running errands. My dear little E is just having the world of reading opened to her, so she sounds out whatever she can find to decode. Well, on the window of the pizza place, it said "Merry Christmas". E turns to S and says "Is Santa Claus' wife named Merry?" :)
I should mention is it COLD here! We are not in Houston anymore, that's for sure. I do not know the official low it has been, but I know that it has been in the low 20's in the morning, and that is not in the middle of the night!
I also had a little epilogue to my last post where I wrote out a day in the life of the E family. I mentioned that I fixed a meal and then called my dh. Someone wondered if my dh worked from home, and I realized it sounded like I called him to the table for the meal. No, as much as I would love it, my dh works about 25 mins away. I was giving him a call on the phone. :)
And on a final note...It is hard to believe it is soon to be 2009! May we live each moment for eternity.
Welcome to Days At SpringMeadows!
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Our own patchwork of days
Recently I read a book called Homeschooling: A Patchwork of Days. It was the journal of 30 homeschool families, sharing a day in their home. I really enjoyed reading the diversity of how each of the families played out homeschooling in their home. I thought today maybe I would keep a record of some of the events of our day...and give you "A day at the E household." So here goes...
I wake up to hearing one of the children. Is it morning already? D climbs in bed with me with his red blanket. J comes in with his blanket around his shoulders with a sleepy good morning smile. Time to start a new day. I climb out of bed, put on my robe and head to the kitchen. I make my usual cup of coffee, maybe slightly taller cause I think I will need it today.
I tell J that he can get out the breakfast and start those that are up. We are having strawberry yogurt and toast this morning. I head into the bedroom to have some time with the Lord. E would rather sit and read books with H in my room quietly while I am reading and praying. She goes in the closet so she can sound the words outloud as she looks at them. Part way through H decides she does want to join those that are eating. When I am through I head into the kitchen to eat some breakfast too. E wants a "private breakfast" with me. I don't think that is too likely at the this point. But, for a brief time as the others head off to begin their duties, I whisper to E, "We have our private breakfast". She smiles.
At this point W is emptying the dishwasher and J is doing his math. It is nice when he gets a head start because his math takes the longest. I now go in to get dressed and ready for the day. When I come out W is ready to start his math. The girls want to make some tea, so I take a moment to make three cups of chamomile tea with some honey and non-dairy creamer in there. They think that is a big treat! :)
I head into the schoolroom to check my email. I have an email from my local grocery store with printable coupons, I try to print one out, but accidently hit the button on my keyboard that powers down the whole computer. I give up for now.
A brief call to my dear husband and it is now time for family worship. I call everyone to "positions". Sometimes I sing the work "positions" to the tune of the Fiddler on the Roof song, "Tradions". So you might hear me singing. "Positioonnsss...Positions!!" Everyone comes into the living room and is seated. Well, sometimes that takes more time then it might seem. And you know, the reminders of no toys in our hands, sit up straight, calm down now, no you sit there-not here, where is...? But, eventually we are all ready. We have been memorizing Ps 34 together in the metrical version. So we sing the last few verses on that. We are reading in Ezra right now.
After family worship I put on a video for my two little ones. Today they are going to watch Wall-E. I go into the schoolroom and print out the math sheets for the girls. I really like this website I can make up different math worksheets, and also this one which I have been using as well. Today E is going to do a simple addition sheet, also she is filling in a hundred number chart, using a chart that is already filled in. I am going to read with her first before she does math though.
I start B on her math and call E in to read with me. She is doing so well in her reading! She just finished her first reader in the Pathway Publisher series. Today she reads to me out of the Christian Liberty Press phonics reader series. W is reading his book now as well, having finished his math earlier. J is now on the computer working on his essay that he has been typing out. He is doing an instructional essay, and he chose "How to make a knife" as his topic. He is just about through with it.
I am finished reading with E, so I assign her the math pages I prited out for her. I tell W to finish the chapter he is on in his book, because I am ready to help him on his English. I take a few minutes to log in my homeschool record book, what has been done so far today. B heads in to do her reading in her Pathway Publisher Reader at some point. W and I sit down to do his English. He is doing a compare/contrast essay. He chose for his topic to write about watercolor vs pencil sketching. We have to go through today and do some revising.
When we finish this, I tell W he can now have a break. I head over to the computer where I now help J with his essay. I show him how to use "tab" on the computer, and how he needs to put his proper spacings when he types. We go through his paper, putting a space after each comma, and two spaces after each period. Why does it excite me so much to teach them things that are so simple? Maybe because I realize these are tools he will use his whole life?
Now it is time for a break for everyone. They run outside to play. Well, some of them do. Some have to be more encouraged than others to go out. I take that time to go in and make my bed, throw a load in the wash, look at what is next to do in our history, and start on lunch. We are having macaroni and cheese today. I know, not the healthiest, but I do make a plate of organic apples. :)
As the noodles are boiling I call the children back inside for some history. We are using Mystery of History and are really enjoying it. Along with MoH though, there are other resources that work along with it. So today we are reading in The Story of the World. We read about the Pharoah Cheops and how he would have been mummified. We discuss how silly their superstitious beliefs were in Egypt. Why is it silly to bury your boat, or clothes, or toys with you? Can we be good enough to get into heaven? The children draw pictures as I read and the boys enjoy making theirs into a comic type page, with the mummy driving his boat into the afterlife. It is amazing how the little children can grasp how silly these superstitions are.
It's time for lunch now, and as we eat I read our newest readaloud. We just finished one about the early settlers as they went west to explore new lands. It was full of pioneer excitement and even Indian kidnapping, all with a Christian worldview. This time we are reading a biographical book called "Carry on Mr Bowditch" Nathaniel Bowditch was an amazing mathematician who was a sailor. Since we are following Zac on his journey around the world in a yahcht, it seemed a good time to read this and learn all about life at sea. I printed out a list of nautical terms in case we need them, but the book we are reading explains alot as you go along.
After lunch I let the children go back outside. Some days I have them do chores and help me clean up. But, today is so very lovely outside, I excuse them to play. Of course, they are thrilled and head out quickly. I clean up from lunch,mop up the floor (No, I don't usually do that!) try to make a quick call, switch the laundry, and lay out what the children still have to do for their schoolwork today. I print out a cursive sheet for W's practice from this website.
It's so pretty outside, like I mentioned. It has been really a cold November, but now we have had a warming trend and today is spectacular, even warm. I head out to enjoy a few minutes of it, and go out to see the children's work. As I head out, I hear "Mama's coming!!" They have been making an indian encampment, and I must say I was impressed! They have made their own teepee and firepit area. Oh the fun they are having setting it all up! They were about to head down to the creek for some water when they saw me coming. I sent W back up to the house for the camera and had them all pose for this picture I am putting up here on the blog.
It now was time for the two littles to go down for naps and the others to finish up their work. I wash up the two littles and tuck them in. D protests "But, I am not tired!" After I shut the door, he calls me back "Goodnight and God Bless and I love you!" he says.
The four others have their schoolwork to do now that I have written out for them. J reads in his book "Cat of Bubastes" It is a G.A Henty historical fiction, set in Egypt. It goes perfectly with our history. He also does some of his Bob Jones Life Science. To finish off (actually right now as I am typing) he is doing another chapter in his logic book. It is called The Fallacy Detective, 36 lessons on how to recognize bad reasoning.
W has cursive practice to do, and then he is reading in a book called Weather Forecaster for his science. He still has a few minutes of math lecture to finish later today when I am off the computer.
R has her scripture copywork that she is working on. She daily writes a little bit more out of the account of Rebekah in Genesis. She does some more math as well and then reads to Emily their science book.
E writes in her journal (I am having her write today about how pretty it is outside) and listens to R read in the science book to her.
I take this time now to type this blog, briefly chat with my husband through instant messenger, check email, etc. D wakes up, I don't think he slept long enough, but that's all the rest he will get for now. I sent the girls back in to read some more science, they got too hasty and reread some pages they had already read. After they are finished they all head back out to their wigwam. :)
I go into the kitchen and wash and cut the sweet potatoes, add some water to the bottom of the pot and put it in the oven. I won't turn on the oven for about an hour yet, but at least they are ready. I switch the laundry again but don't put in any new clothes now.
I rented a movie yesterday that I had told them if they were really diligent in their work this morning they could watch this afternoon. So, I call the children in and we all sit down to watch "Benji". I have a little rule though, as we watch we have to fold laundry till it is done! :)
Just as the movie is nearly through, S comes home! It's the highlight of his day when they all come running to daddy! After he changes his clothes and the last 5 mins of the movies is done, he heads outside with the children. His plan is to have them clean out the van with him. I take his car and head into town to go to Curves. On the way, I stop at a couple of places to get a few grocery items and misc. I then get to the gym for my workout. Back home as the family is just getting ready to sit down for dinner. Whole Foods sells some really nice premade salmon patties, that I had planned with the sweet potatoes and a green vegetable. S and W came up with a recipe that was delicious! They took the patties fried them in butter, and then covered them with a can of clam chowder soup..a few more spices and yummy!
After dinner, S oversaw the boys cleanup the kitchen. I looked at a couple of books witht the little ones, while overseeing the girls putting away some laundry. J tonight expressed some concern (after reading in his science today about being a carrier of certain health problems) of marrying someone who might be color blind! :)
After teeth were brushed,it was family worship time, then off to bed for the girls and two littles. The boys trade off having math class with Daddy. Tonight is W's night so they are having math class right now. J is doing some reading. They will both head to bed when math is done.
I am now finishing up this post, and am planning on heading soon for the shower. After the children are all in bed, S and I will have some time together before heading to bed ourselves.
It's been a busy day. In some ways busier than some days. I think the fact that I was writing this motivated me somewhat. :) I am sure the little extra coffee didn't hurt either. I certainly do not usually mop the floor in the middle of the day. My house right now is quite messy. But, I am very thankful for another day in the life of the E family.
I would love to hear details about many of your days. Give us a run-down of a day at your house. Send me an email with your routine, or schedule at springmeadowssc@gmaildotnet or if you have a blog in which you post it, write it in the comments section here below. For now then, Goodnight!
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Happy Birthday!
Happy Birthday to my dear, dear Mama. She is just the sweetest, dearest, most wonderful mama that I have ever had! In fact, she is my only one! :) I love you, precious Mother. On her birthday card I mentioned that is it only as I grow older that I appreciate her more and more. And it's really true. Children have no concept of the love of a parent until they are one. How much more I see now of what my mother has given of herself for me. I am truly blessed and desire to rise up and call my mother blessed (Prov 31). May the Lord's bountiful mercies be given to you this day, Mother.
Food for thought
Maria Chapman (Steven's Curtis Chapman's wife) in speaking about what she would have done differently if she had known they would lose their daughter Maria at so young an age said the following:
"Regretfully, I would have lived much differently. I would have purposely hugged and kissed more. I would have tried to memorize and lock away in my heart certain smells and smiles. I would have colored more and worked less. I would have laughed more and fussed less. Bedtime wouldn’t have become a chore to check off the list of things to get done. Instead it would have been more of an opportunity to listen about the day and offer whatever words were needed. The swimming pool wouldn’t have been too cold to swim in. The flowers in the garden would have all been picked, and definitely more ice cream would have been consumed!"
What am I doing with the days that we have....how am I living while I have today?
"Regretfully, I would have lived much differently. I would have purposely hugged and kissed more. I would have tried to memorize and lock away in my heart certain smells and smiles. I would have colored more and worked less. I would have laughed more and fussed less. Bedtime wouldn’t have become a chore to check off the list of things to get done. Instead it would have been more of an opportunity to listen about the day and offer whatever words were needed. The swimming pool wouldn’t have been too cold to swim in. The flowers in the garden would have all been picked, and definitely more ice cream would have been consumed!"
What am I doing with the days that we have....how am I living while I have today?
Monday, December 15, 2008
Awww....
As my girls were coloring, they were singing the song I taught them of the twelve months in the year (sung to the tune of 10 Little Indians)
B says "Mama, your teaching isn't just teaching into the air. It's really teaching something!"
Awwww....
B says "Mama, your teaching isn't just teaching into the air. It's really teaching something!"
Awwww....
Friday, December 12, 2008
You know, there are times when the rewards and fulfillment of homeschooling really excite me.
Like the feeling that I had today as I realized we are about half way through the year, and I look at the notebooks full of the day to day progress of the first half of the year. Sometimes as we chip away the progress seems slow, but then when you assess after week after week, you realize just HOW much you were able to accomplish.
Like the feeling that comes when you realize you have personally taught 4 little people to read, and your latest reader has gone from not knowing all her letters to reading chapter readers in a few short months.
Like the feeling that comes when you realize that your son has passed you up in his math, and you marvel when you see the work he is processing in that little brain of his.
Like the feeling that comes when all is quiet and each one is busily attending to their own independent work, and you realize that you are training independent thinkers to go out into the world one day.
Like the feeling that comes when you decide you are going to follow together the adventures of the 16yo boy who is homeschooled, trying to set the world record for being the youngest to go around the globe in a yacht all by himself. Following Zac's blog, his trials and excitement along the way. Watching his progress... What a great way to learn about ships, the ocean and nautical terms. Maybe a reading of "Carry on Mr Bowditch" is on order at this time too.
Like the feeling that comes when you learn in history together about the megalithic structure built about 4,000 years ago, in England called Stonehenge. Your read about it, have your children draw pictures of it, and take a virtual tour online. When you consider the absolute genius that these people must have had...certainly not the "cave men" we are taught in public schools about. And could Noah's children have been involved? They say it may have taken centuries to build. P, have you or K ever visited it? FASCINATING!
Yes, learning is a good thing. Schooling is for the glory of God, to shoot these arrows out into the next generation!
Thursday, December 11, 2008
A day in the life of the E's
Today we had a really fun day. It started out slow, but I did not have any big plans. But, then it happened, I had an idea. I had thought for awhile about trying out the gym at the local leisure center, but never done so. We have been soooo cooped up lately because of the sickness. Then the last two days have been very rainy, flood warnings and tornado watches. So, I called up a friend of mine in town who homeschools several children herself and asked her if she wanted to meet us at the leisure center (why do they call it a leisure center, when it is a gym where you run around?) So, off we went...school books were dropped for another time, and we got ready to go. I stopped off at the dollar store to purchase a few more balls, Amidst the pouring rain we ran into the center with all of our equipment. And OH the fun we had! Running, jumping, throwing, yelling, shooting baskets, kicking balls. It is such a nice place, and there was only one senior there walking around the outer perimeter of the court. The children loved the fact that I got out there with all them balls and all them chillens too..."Mom, here!" "Mom", "Mommy!" We had a blast. Then our friends arrived and the moms sat on the bleachers and visited while all the children played. It was P.E at it's finest. Too bad homeschoolers never get socialization.
After we played and played, we said goodbye to our friends and headed over to Burger King. In this small town, we are entertainment I am sure. And today was no exception, There were several senior citizens enjoying their late lunch there too. I knew all eyes were on my little flock as I divided up all the food and handed out the grub. They might have seen the excitement all the children (yes even my oldest son) had over their Burger King crowns. And the delight there was in the happy meal toys. "Are they all yours?" (Now, imagine that...would you believe I have NEVER been asked that before? Good, I'm glad you didn't believe it) One of the ladies commented "I thought she had a kindergarten!" A sweet old man came up and even gave me a little thing that said "Jesus" on it.
On home we went for late naps for the littles, and schoolwork for the older 4. Some had more math to do, a journal to finish, books to read and so on. Mom did some read aloud and then Daddy was home. Mom headed out to go to Curves to workout. And Daddy surprised the boys by bringing home supplies for them to begin making homemade slingshots. They are even talking about selling them.
Now, all is quiet in the house, well except for my little D who is talking a mile a minute, but supposed to be settling down to sleep. But how can you stop him when he is blowing you kisses and telling you that the best place to keep a kiss is in your heart? S had to run out to help R out on his land...he got stuck pretty bad with his truck, He just called and they got him out and S is heading back.
Goodnight then to all.
After we played and played, we said goodbye to our friends and headed over to Burger King. In this small town, we are entertainment I am sure. And today was no exception, There were several senior citizens enjoying their late lunch there too. I knew all eyes were on my little flock as I divided up all the food and handed out the grub. They might have seen the excitement all the children (yes even my oldest son) had over their Burger King crowns. And the delight there was in the happy meal toys. "Are they all yours?" (Now, imagine that...would you believe I have NEVER been asked that before? Good, I'm glad you didn't believe it) One of the ladies commented "I thought she had a kindergarten!" A sweet old man came up and even gave me a little thing that said "Jesus" on it.
On home we went for late naps for the littles, and schoolwork for the older 4. Some had more math to do, a journal to finish, books to read and so on. Mom did some read aloud and then Daddy was home. Mom headed out to go to Curves to workout. And Daddy surprised the boys by bringing home supplies for them to begin making homemade slingshots. They are even talking about selling them.
Now, all is quiet in the house, well except for my little D who is talking a mile a minute, but supposed to be settling down to sleep. But how can you stop him when he is blowing you kisses and telling you that the best place to keep a kiss is in your heart? S had to run out to help R out on his land...he got stuck pretty bad with his truck, He just called and they got him out and S is heading back.
Goodnight then to all.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
A blessing...
At the risk of seeming redundant I am posting another post from Ann's blog. It is just too good not to share...
9:55 AM
A Mother's Work: A Model for True Work
from Holy Experience by Ann Voskamp @Holy Experience
(Part of a series this week, my contributions to the Mother Letter Project, open letters from mothers to mothers.)Dear Mother,It’s noon here.That Hope-girl looks up from her plate, big grin spilling across the table, and I mop it up.“Tastes good, Mom.” Her mouth’s still full and rice spills. We laugh and I nod and her sea eyes roll.“Mmmm Mmmmm…..” Fork heaped high, Joshua’s filling that hollow leg of his… both of them. He doesn’t look up, eyes fixed on his rice drenched in chicken sauce.Shalom, carefree mess of curls beside me, leans over the armrest of wooden highchair, lisps in loud whisper, “M’ere, Mama, com’ere. I gotta whisper you sumping.”I let her pull me close and she pushes strands away from my ear, then brushes hair out of her own eyes, then again little fingers tuck hair behind my ear, and finally she presses in, lips tickling my ear with warm, breathy words, “Your food is a good job, Mama!”Under falling locks we find each other, rub noses, giggle.I just made bonus.Isn’t this, a mother’s work, the apex of work? The work prototype the world strives for?The radical model for work our economy and world at large desperately seeks, that productivity gurus develop into billion-dollar industries and seminar-worthy motivational systems, happens everyday in every home on every street corner.This thing that mothers have always done.Mothers work for no pay.I can’t help but think this is work in its purest, most Edenic form, work that is an unadulterated expression of love and creativity, work free of monetary stain or manufacturing triteness.If the world ever urgently needed a Christian model of work, work done without force, without manipulation or bartering for finances, isn’t a mother’s work that elusive ideal? It leers at me on medical forms, government forms, that space labeled “Occupation,” and inky point of my Bic pen always hangs. What exactly is my occupation, this work that I do raising six children? Sadly, I imagine how I might be regarded if I scratch it out in block letters, “Housewife” or “Stay-at-Home-Mom.” Because our society flaunts the fallacy that the only valid work is that which brings in a paycheck, buys us niceties.
“The habit of thinking about work as something one does to make money is so ingrained in us that we can scarcely imagine what a revolutionary change it would be to thinking about it instead in terms of the work done,” writes Dorothy Sayers, Oxford graduate and member of the informal group of writers that included C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien.“To do so would mean taking the attitude of mind we reserve for our unpaid work – the things we make and do for pleasure…. and making that the standard of all our judgments about things and people.”It’s true. We can hardly imagine how counter-culture it would be to make unpaid work, the work we do for love, like mothering and its bearing and feeding and giving and teaching and laughing and crying and caring for children, and made it the standard for our assessment of work.Sayers explores the possibilities, “We should ask of an enterprise, not “will it pay?” but “is it good?”; of a man, not “what does he make?” but “what is his work worth?”;… of employment, not “how much a week?” but “will it exercise my faculties to the utmost?”When that word “Occupation” sneers at a mother, we could ask Sayers’ incisive, true-north questions of work,
“Is this good work?” (Could there be more meaningful work than co-laboring with God in the sculpting of souls?)
“What is this work worth?” (Could this sacred undertaking be belittled with a mere number?)
“Does it exercise my faculties to the utmost?" (What could be more engaging than discovering the breadth and depth and wonder of the world with a child, painting and reading, building and exploring, learning and making, discovering how a soul and mind and human being unfurls into wholeness?)Tonight the house will fall quiet. I will be exhausted by then.There will be stacks of books on the couch, remnants of marvelously long reading sessions. I’ll gather up the balls of yarns from her knitting project, his crochet creation. I’ll scoop up the crayons and markers and scissors strewn about, pause and achingly smile over this funny man drawing, that crazy fish sketch. I’ll stand in the lamp light and listen to their long slow breaths rising and falling in the dark down the hall.I’ll clean and I’ll listen. And all will settle into its place (I’ve come to accept that this house only calms into deep order during the sleeping hours. Come daylight, it whirls and swirls and dances with creativity and laughter and the happiness of a structured chaos of its own.) And I’ll know the exact rightness of this work, this occupation that stands apart as the model of what work was truly meant to be, this vocation set far above the grime and grip of an economic system.In those hours of margin, I’ll have a sliver of time for leisure. I’ll take mine tapping keys, reading. Others might sew, knit, paint. But it’s not as though I simply plow through the day’s work in order to get to what I really want to do. But rather, the leisure projects of a mother’s fringe hours, or of anyone engaged in a Christian model of genuine work, these hobbies aren’t the desired end of our work or escape from it, but are simply a change in pace, a recharging rhythm, refreshing us to return with renewed passion and vigor to our ultimate callings, our purposeful work.Because all work is sacred work, worthy of the diligence, the effort. I pick up lost legos, dry the pots, whish the toilets and this serves God. For if I can’t meet God in my work, where do I meet Him? If I don’t serve Him here, where do I serve Him? Are we not called to serve God in the work – not merely in some imagined, mirage place outside of work?In a model of Christian work, we live one-piece lives, all weaving together into a sacred cloth as unto the Lord with no false seams between God and our days.And in our work, sacred work because there is no such thing as secular work, we first serve God. I’ll put away the laundry, sweep the crumbs, polish the windows not to serve my family primarily, but to serve God. Because, “whenever man is made the centre of things, he become the storm center of trouble,” writes Dorothy Sayers. “The moment you think of serving people, you begin to have a notion that other people owe you something for your pains…. You will begin to bargain for reward, to angle for applause.”Funny, sad, how that works. If I clean out the fridge as an act of service to my family, it’s true, an unconscious part of me thinks the least they can now do is try to keep it clean… or be appreciative. It’s not even an intentional thought on my part. But when I turn the work on its head, and work for God alone, serving Him as I scrub the gunk from the mudroom sink, tidy the pile of boots at the back door, the work returns to its purest state: Worship. Love. A song of Praise.Tonight, I’ll finally linger at the last light switch. I’ll have worked today but no one will have paid me a cent. Real work rises above the necessity of mere money. Tonight, I'll have more than money. I’ll have a bouquet of words, mumbled words from around the table from mouths too full. Words He too will say at the end of time to the faithful servants. Like the words He said in the beginning, when He began His work, when He finished each task.And I’ll look at an order-restored house, hear those heavy sleep breaths, and I too will say it. Because those words are the most meaningful reward for true, pure work, work that works like God does. I will look upon what has been made with this day, and enter into the apex of what God meant for good and true work... I'll turn out the light and whisper those reward words…“It is all very good. So very good.”
9:55 AM
A Mother's Work: A Model for True Work
from Holy Experience by Ann Voskamp @Holy Experience
(Part of a series this week, my contributions to the Mother Letter Project, open letters from mothers to mothers.)Dear Mother,It’s noon here.That Hope-girl looks up from her plate, big grin spilling across the table, and I mop it up.“Tastes good, Mom.” Her mouth’s still full and rice spills. We laugh and I nod and her sea eyes roll.“Mmmm Mmmmm…..” Fork heaped high, Joshua’s filling that hollow leg of his… both of them. He doesn’t look up, eyes fixed on his rice drenched in chicken sauce.Shalom, carefree mess of curls beside me, leans over the armrest of wooden highchair, lisps in loud whisper, “M’ere, Mama, com’ere. I gotta whisper you sumping.”I let her pull me close and she pushes strands away from my ear, then brushes hair out of her own eyes, then again little fingers tuck hair behind my ear, and finally she presses in, lips tickling my ear with warm, breathy words, “Your food is a good job, Mama!”Under falling locks we find each other, rub noses, giggle.I just made bonus.Isn’t this, a mother’s work, the apex of work? The work prototype the world strives for?The radical model for work our economy and world at large desperately seeks, that productivity gurus develop into billion-dollar industries and seminar-worthy motivational systems, happens everyday in every home on every street corner.This thing that mothers have always done.Mothers work for no pay.I can’t help but think this is work in its purest, most Edenic form, work that is an unadulterated expression of love and creativity, work free of monetary stain or manufacturing triteness.If the world ever urgently needed a Christian model of work, work done without force, without manipulation or bartering for finances, isn’t a mother’s work that elusive ideal? It leers at me on medical forms, government forms, that space labeled “Occupation,” and inky point of my Bic pen always hangs. What exactly is my occupation, this work that I do raising six children? Sadly, I imagine how I might be regarded if I scratch it out in block letters, “Housewife” or “Stay-at-Home-Mom.” Because our society flaunts the fallacy that the only valid work is that which brings in a paycheck, buys us niceties.
“The habit of thinking about work as something one does to make money is so ingrained in us that we can scarcely imagine what a revolutionary change it would be to thinking about it instead in terms of the work done,” writes Dorothy Sayers, Oxford graduate and member of the informal group of writers that included C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien.“To do so would mean taking the attitude of mind we reserve for our unpaid work – the things we make and do for pleasure…. and making that the standard of all our judgments about things and people.”It’s true. We can hardly imagine how counter-culture it would be to make unpaid work, the work we do for love, like mothering and its bearing and feeding and giving and teaching and laughing and crying and caring for children, and made it the standard for our assessment of work.Sayers explores the possibilities, “We should ask of an enterprise, not “will it pay?” but “is it good?”; of a man, not “what does he make?” but “what is his work worth?”;… of employment, not “how much a week?” but “will it exercise my faculties to the utmost?”When that word “Occupation” sneers at a mother, we could ask Sayers’ incisive, true-north questions of work,
“Is this good work?” (Could there be more meaningful work than co-laboring with God in the sculpting of souls?)
“What is this work worth?” (Could this sacred undertaking be belittled with a mere number?)
“Does it exercise my faculties to the utmost?" (What could be more engaging than discovering the breadth and depth and wonder of the world with a child, painting and reading, building and exploring, learning and making, discovering how a soul and mind and human being unfurls into wholeness?)Tonight the house will fall quiet. I will be exhausted by then.There will be stacks of books on the couch, remnants of marvelously long reading sessions. I’ll gather up the balls of yarns from her knitting project, his crochet creation. I’ll scoop up the crayons and markers and scissors strewn about, pause and achingly smile over this funny man drawing, that crazy fish sketch. I’ll stand in the lamp light and listen to their long slow breaths rising and falling in the dark down the hall.I’ll clean and I’ll listen. And all will settle into its place (I’ve come to accept that this house only calms into deep order during the sleeping hours. Come daylight, it whirls and swirls and dances with creativity and laughter and the happiness of a structured chaos of its own.) And I’ll know the exact rightness of this work, this occupation that stands apart as the model of what work was truly meant to be, this vocation set far above the grime and grip of an economic system.In those hours of margin, I’ll have a sliver of time for leisure. I’ll take mine tapping keys, reading. Others might sew, knit, paint. But it’s not as though I simply plow through the day’s work in order to get to what I really want to do. But rather, the leisure projects of a mother’s fringe hours, or of anyone engaged in a Christian model of genuine work, these hobbies aren’t the desired end of our work or escape from it, but are simply a change in pace, a recharging rhythm, refreshing us to return with renewed passion and vigor to our ultimate callings, our purposeful work.Because all work is sacred work, worthy of the diligence, the effort. I pick up lost legos, dry the pots, whish the toilets and this serves God. For if I can’t meet God in my work, where do I meet Him? If I don’t serve Him here, where do I serve Him? Are we not called to serve God in the work – not merely in some imagined, mirage place outside of work?In a model of Christian work, we live one-piece lives, all weaving together into a sacred cloth as unto the Lord with no false seams between God and our days.And in our work, sacred work because there is no such thing as secular work, we first serve God. I’ll put away the laundry, sweep the crumbs, polish the windows not to serve my family primarily, but to serve God. Because, “whenever man is made the centre of things, he become the storm center of trouble,” writes Dorothy Sayers. “The moment you think of serving people, you begin to have a notion that other people owe you something for your pains…. You will begin to bargain for reward, to angle for applause.”Funny, sad, how that works. If I clean out the fridge as an act of service to my family, it’s true, an unconscious part of me thinks the least they can now do is try to keep it clean… or be appreciative. It’s not even an intentional thought on my part. But when I turn the work on its head, and work for God alone, serving Him as I scrub the gunk from the mudroom sink, tidy the pile of boots at the back door, the work returns to its purest state: Worship. Love. A song of Praise.Tonight, I’ll finally linger at the last light switch. I’ll have worked today but no one will have paid me a cent. Real work rises above the necessity of mere money. Tonight, I'll have more than money. I’ll have a bouquet of words, mumbled words from around the table from mouths too full. Words He too will say at the end of time to the faithful servants. Like the words He said in the beginning, when He began His work, when He finished each task.And I’ll look at an order-restored house, hear those heavy sleep breaths, and I too will say it. Because those words are the most meaningful reward for true, pure work, work that works like God does. I will look upon what has been made with this day, and enter into the apex of what God meant for good and true work... I'll turn out the light and whisper those reward words…“It is all very good. So very good.”
Monday, December 8, 2008
The Lord is merciful
I am very, very happy to report that it appears that the E family is coming out of the woods. It seems the Lord is restoring health to us, blessed be His name. We have some lingering coughs and conjestion, but seem on the road to recovery.
D had another drs appt today and they were surprised at how well he has recovered. His lungs sounded clear and he is doing great!
It seems as though, Lord willing, we will be able to be a part of society now. :)
D had another drs appt today and they were surprised at how well he has recovered. His lungs sounded clear and he is doing great!
It seems as though, Lord willing, we will be able to be a part of society now. :)
Prayer and Mothering
Like I have said before, I cannot condone everything Ann says, but there is so much to glean from here....
What Withstands A Day's HeatAn Open Letter to a Mother
from Holy Experience by Ann Voskamp @Holy Experience
(Part of a series this week, my contributions to the Mother Letter Project, open letters from mothers to mothers.)Dear Mother,It’s 11 a.m. here.Toddler’s crying. Her six-year-old brother kicked her. (Yes, he did confess, face contorted in guilt nod. Toddler too confessed: yes, she did cheat and look at his Stratego pawns. Not that she knows how to play Stratego. Apparently that’s beside the point.)I rock Toddler. And recap Three Qs with kicking brother:What did you do wrong? Why was it wrong? What are you going to do differently in the future?And then, as always: Is that a commitment? Can I count on you?He nods, shakes my hand, hugs sniffling toddler. I whisper a prayer for heart transplants.Third-born son, 7, wanders aimlessly around house looking for that tattered math book of his. I look at the clock. He’s been wandering for an hour. (That’s including the time he spent building a supersonic blaster out of Legos. But he’s right: he did discover that the math book wasn’t at the bottom of the Lego box.)Before I offer Levi another place to look, Daughter screams that Oldest Son stepped in her room, oldest son smirks, daughter whaps him in shoulder, Oldest Son falls to floor in Oscar winning performance, I ask daughter and son to recite memorized Phil 2:1-4, Second Son hollers that Oldest Son is late for online class but computer’s jammed, and Farmer Husband steps in back door asking if we can have lunch in half an hour; he’s hoping to give another go at harvesting last of the corn. And pencil crayons, paper snippets, blizzard across the floor and the farm table’s buried deep under notebooks, remnants of crumbled Lego masterpieces, book bags, phonics tiles.I want to scream. I do.Oldest son throws hands up over head, as if apprehended. Daughter’s eyes shrink back. And I can hear my mama’s voice echoing down memories halls: It’s not that you aren’t going to blow it. It’s what you do with it afterwards.I have. Blown it. Erupted.And what now afterwards?It’s 11 a.m. and one would wonder what I’ve accomplished. A glance around here and it wouldn’t look like much. Except maybe I’ve torn out a few bricks from the foundation of my own house. Frustration wields a wrecking ball.Some days it’s hard not to wave a white flag in surrender.Clean. And the papers and books and Legos multiply. Cook. And scrub and repeat and repeat and repeat. Wash the clothes. Fold the clothes. Stack the clothes. And watch them migrate back to the laundry basket. A mother’s work is but sand etches; the next wave washes it all away.But don’t grains of sand carve stone?It’s 11 a.m. and I do afterwards what I should have done more fervently before. I bend knees at the prayer bench, intentionally creating solitude in the multitude, and remember again the story of Abba Paul, that desert monk who wove baskets and prayers.While other monks lived close enough to cities to sell their handiwork in the markets, Abba Paul lived such a distance that the cost of transportation would exceed any profits from selling the baskets. Nonetheless, each day he collected palm fronds and worked as faithfully as if basket making were his primary means of support. And come the end of the year, when his cave overflowed with long months of toil, he took torch to the work of his hands and the flames devoured and rose higher and cackled long into the night. And then, come morning, the heat died away, satiated. And Abba Paul stood in the long quiet and the wind blew away the ashes of all his work.It’s 11 a.m. and I’m Abba Paul, the wind blowing through and a heap of papery ashes to show for hard toil. The pounding surf of raising children, the fiery furnace of mothering, leaves me with little to physically hold at the end of the day. But are the most significant things in our lives things we can tangibly touch? Visibly see? Won’t the majority of our work, the laundry, the housecleaning, the meal-making, while necessary acts of service, just too burn up?
“But on the judgment day, fire will reveal what kind of work each builder has done. The fire will show if a person’s work has any value. If the work survives, that builder will receive a reward. But if the work is burned up, the builder will suffer great loss. The builder will be saved, but like someone barely escaping through a wall of flames” (1 Cor. 3:13-15).
“If the work survives, that builder will receive a reward.” That’s the kind of mother work I want to invest in, the enduring kind. The kind of work that isn’t washed away with the next wave, that isn’t tinder for the next match. What survives a fire? This house won’t. Abba Paul’s baskets didn’t. But what he wove with the baskets did: prayer.So a mother kneels. So a mother gets up and works and prays, prays and works. Because the prayers we weave into the matching of socks, the stirring of oatmeal, the reading of stories, they survive fire.Aren’t the prayers of our days more important than the products of our days?And the prayers are the genesis of all that can withstand the flames: love, patience, faith, joy, hope. Our prayers make our work acts of praise; our prayers make our work acts of passion for these people living here. These people we love more than life.
Dear Mother, I’m learning it’s always time to pray. Because the house where He lives is a house of prayer and it’s the only way I can keep mine standing.It’s 11 a.m. and I pray.
What Withstands A Day's HeatAn Open Letter to a Mother
from Holy Experience by Ann Voskamp @Holy Experience
(Part of a series this week, my contributions to the Mother Letter Project, open letters from mothers to mothers.)Dear Mother,It’s 11 a.m. here.Toddler’s crying. Her six-year-old brother kicked her. (Yes, he did confess, face contorted in guilt nod. Toddler too confessed: yes, she did cheat and look at his Stratego pawns. Not that she knows how to play Stratego. Apparently that’s beside the point.)I rock Toddler. And recap Three Qs with kicking brother:What did you do wrong? Why was it wrong? What are you going to do differently in the future?And then, as always: Is that a commitment? Can I count on you?He nods, shakes my hand, hugs sniffling toddler. I whisper a prayer for heart transplants.Third-born son, 7, wanders aimlessly around house looking for that tattered math book of his. I look at the clock. He’s been wandering for an hour. (That’s including the time he spent building a supersonic blaster out of Legos. But he’s right: he did discover that the math book wasn’t at the bottom of the Lego box.)Before I offer Levi another place to look, Daughter screams that Oldest Son stepped in her room, oldest son smirks, daughter whaps him in shoulder, Oldest Son falls to floor in Oscar winning performance, I ask daughter and son to recite memorized Phil 2:1-4, Second Son hollers that Oldest Son is late for online class but computer’s jammed, and Farmer Husband steps in back door asking if we can have lunch in half an hour; he’s hoping to give another go at harvesting last of the corn. And pencil crayons, paper snippets, blizzard across the floor and the farm table’s buried deep under notebooks, remnants of crumbled Lego masterpieces, book bags, phonics tiles.I want to scream. I do.Oldest son throws hands up over head, as if apprehended. Daughter’s eyes shrink back. And I can hear my mama’s voice echoing down memories halls: It’s not that you aren’t going to blow it. It’s what you do with it afterwards.I have. Blown it. Erupted.And what now afterwards?It’s 11 a.m. and one would wonder what I’ve accomplished. A glance around here and it wouldn’t look like much. Except maybe I’ve torn out a few bricks from the foundation of my own house. Frustration wields a wrecking ball.Some days it’s hard not to wave a white flag in surrender.Clean. And the papers and books and Legos multiply. Cook. And scrub and repeat and repeat and repeat. Wash the clothes. Fold the clothes. Stack the clothes. And watch them migrate back to the laundry basket. A mother’s work is but sand etches; the next wave washes it all away.But don’t grains of sand carve stone?It’s 11 a.m. and I do afterwards what I should have done more fervently before. I bend knees at the prayer bench, intentionally creating solitude in the multitude, and remember again the story of Abba Paul, that desert monk who wove baskets and prayers.While other monks lived close enough to cities to sell their handiwork in the markets, Abba Paul lived such a distance that the cost of transportation would exceed any profits from selling the baskets. Nonetheless, each day he collected palm fronds and worked as faithfully as if basket making were his primary means of support. And come the end of the year, when his cave overflowed with long months of toil, he took torch to the work of his hands and the flames devoured and rose higher and cackled long into the night. And then, come morning, the heat died away, satiated. And Abba Paul stood in the long quiet and the wind blew away the ashes of all his work.It’s 11 a.m. and I’m Abba Paul, the wind blowing through and a heap of papery ashes to show for hard toil. The pounding surf of raising children, the fiery furnace of mothering, leaves me with little to physically hold at the end of the day. But are the most significant things in our lives things we can tangibly touch? Visibly see? Won’t the majority of our work, the laundry, the housecleaning, the meal-making, while necessary acts of service, just too burn up?
“But on the judgment day, fire will reveal what kind of work each builder has done. The fire will show if a person’s work has any value. If the work survives, that builder will receive a reward. But if the work is burned up, the builder will suffer great loss. The builder will be saved, but like someone barely escaping through a wall of flames” (1 Cor. 3:13-15).
“If the work survives, that builder will receive a reward.” That’s the kind of mother work I want to invest in, the enduring kind. The kind of work that isn’t washed away with the next wave, that isn’t tinder for the next match. What survives a fire? This house won’t. Abba Paul’s baskets didn’t. But what he wove with the baskets did: prayer.So a mother kneels. So a mother gets up and works and prays, prays and works. Because the prayers we weave into the matching of socks, the stirring of oatmeal, the reading of stories, they survive fire.Aren’t the prayers of our days more important than the products of our days?And the prayers are the genesis of all that can withstand the flames: love, patience, faith, joy, hope. Our prayers make our work acts of praise; our prayers make our work acts of passion for these people living here. These people we love more than life.
Dear Mother, I’m learning it’s always time to pray. Because the house where He lives is a house of prayer and it’s the only way I can keep mine standing.It’s 11 a.m. and I pray.
Friday, December 5, 2008
Peace Loving Boy / Wall-E
Night before last we had another bad bout with the sickness. D complained of a bad earache and was up moaning through the night and threw up as well. H had another round of the tummy troubles, with projectile vomiting and diarrhea. By Thurs morning I felt it was time to go in to the Dr. I was not sure if it was the right decision or not, but after the appt was made as the morning went on, the more lethargic D was, I knew we had made the right decision. D was just not right. Sure enough, D has pneumonia, as well as a bad ear infection. Poor little dear, he was really hurting. So after a long afternoon Mommy and the two little came home with 3 days worth of steroids, antibiotics and nebulizer treatments...and several rented videos to add something special. D even had to get his blood drawn. You have never seen a more mature, sweet boy about it. In the Lord's providence he had just watched me get some bloodwork, so he knew what to expect. I told him to be so still, and he was a gem. He turned away and did not look, like I had told him. When they stuck him, a little "ouch" and that was it. What a trooper.
He did not like his nebulizer treatments so today I told him about the indians that would smoke peace pipes. Now his Indian name is "Peace Loving Boy", so I will say "Peace Loving Boy, it is time for a smoke!"
He is doing so much better today. In fact, I was thinking, "Can't I take some of those steroids?" The boy has been absolutely jazzed this afternoon. Bouncing off the walls, wide eyed and feeling good. :) It gives new meaning to when you speak of someone acting like they are on steroids. His bloodwork looked fine, I spoke to the P.A today. Obviously, it shows him fighting infection, but otherwise he was not dehydrated, etc.
Tonight we watched Wall-E with the children. S and I had previewed it last night to be sure it was ok. It definitely has a political agenda on "save the planet" , but it is really creative and cute. As we knew he would, especially W was fascinated by all the robotics. They were so excited to watch it.
I will say goodnight for now.
He did not like his nebulizer treatments so today I told him about the indians that would smoke peace pipes. Now his Indian name is "Peace Loving Boy", so I will say "Peace Loving Boy, it is time for a smoke!"
He is doing so much better today. In fact, I was thinking, "Can't I take some of those steroids?" The boy has been absolutely jazzed this afternoon. Bouncing off the walls, wide eyed and feeling good. :) It gives new meaning to when you speak of someone acting like they are on steroids. His bloodwork looked fine, I spoke to the P.A today. Obviously, it shows him fighting infection, but otherwise he was not dehydrated, etc.
Tonight we watched Wall-E with the children. S and I had previewed it last night to be sure it was ok. It definitely has a political agenda on "save the planet" , but it is really creative and cute. As we knew he would, especially W was fascinated by all the robotics. They were so excited to watch it.
I will say goodnight for now.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Wednesday
One of the blogs I enjoy has a great article on homeschooling and being a mommy to young ones. To see her beautiful blog and read the article click HERE By the way, she is expecting number 15!!
Still sick here, S came home with it last night. He slept it off and was feeling well enough to go in to work today.
Mom sent me some quotes on affliction today...two of my favorites were:
The secret formula of the saints: When I am in the cellar of affliction, I look for the Lord's choicest wines. —Samuel Rutherford
No wise man can expect that...God should diet us with a continual feast. It would neither suit with our health, nor the condition of this pilgrimage. Live, therefore, on your peace of conscience as your ordinary diet; when this is wanting, know that God appointeth you a fast for your health; and when you have a feast of high joys, feed on it and be thankful! But when they are taken from you, gape not after them as the disciples did after Christ at His ascension; but return thankfully to your ordinary diet of peace. —Richard Baxter
Still sick here, S came home with it last night. He slept it off and was feeling well enough to go in to work today.
Mom sent me some quotes on affliction today...two of my favorites were:
The secret formula of the saints: When I am in the cellar of affliction, I look for the Lord's choicest wines. —Samuel Rutherford
No wise man can expect that...God should diet us with a continual feast. It would neither suit with our health, nor the condition of this pilgrimage. Live, therefore, on your peace of conscience as your ordinary diet; when this is wanting, know that God appointeth you a fast for your health; and when you have a feast of high joys, feed on it and be thankful! But when they are taken from you, gape not after them as the disciples did after Christ at His ascension; but return thankfully to your ordinary diet of peace. —Richard Baxter
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Cash anyone?
Cute youtube video on using cash instead of credit cards. I can't imbed it here, so to go to it click HERE.
still sickies over here
Just a brief post to say we are still sickies over here. When you have 8 people in one house, this stuff keeps going round and round. Now it appears we have another virus as well with congestion and icky coughs that go with it.
So mama has been parceling out some really gooey, savory concoctions to build up the immune system, and cut the congestion. I have some fun names..."Fizzy pop" is a mixture of vit C and acidophiles. Fenutea (pronounce fen-you-tee) is my fenugreek tea with honey. Then there is the herbal combination for congestion...the olders can swallow the capsules, but the youngers get a nice gooey honey mix (I can hear the song "Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down...) And they LOVE (NOT) the cod liver oil...anyone got a great way to disguise this lovely stuff? Yes, dearies Mama really IS loving you with all this! :)
I have been busy cloroxing around (cloroxing is now a verb at our house), opening windows, doling out meds, spraying a homemade disinfecting...and of course, overseeing school, which still must be making steady progress.
Today I was reading our lunchtime read aloud book, and H needed to use the bathroom. She sweetly comes up to me and says "Can you pause it?" Hmmm, wonder if we have been watching too many videos?
Seriously, this bout of sickness has really shown us how sickness and health are in the hands of the Lord. We can do what we can, and use the means He gives us, but ultimately He is the one who will lift this affliction from us, in His good and proper time. I have been speaking to the children about examining our hearts, for we are to learn through the providences what He would teach us. "Be still and know that I am God".
So mama has been parceling out some really gooey, savory concoctions to build up the immune system, and cut the congestion. I have some fun names..."Fizzy pop" is a mixture of vit C and acidophiles. Fenutea (pronounce fen-you-tee) is my fenugreek tea with honey. Then there is the herbal combination for congestion...the olders can swallow the capsules, but the youngers get a nice gooey honey mix (I can hear the song "Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down...) And they LOVE (NOT) the cod liver oil...anyone got a great way to disguise this lovely stuff? Yes, dearies Mama really IS loving you with all this! :)
I have been busy cloroxing around (cloroxing is now a verb at our house), opening windows, doling out meds, spraying a homemade disinfecting...and of course, overseeing school, which still must be making steady progress.
Today I was reading our lunchtime read aloud book, and H needed to use the bathroom. She sweetly comes up to me and says "Can you pause it?" Hmmm, wonder if we have been watching too many videos?
Seriously, this bout of sickness has really shown us how sickness and health are in the hands of the Lord. We can do what we can, and use the means He gives us, but ultimately He is the one who will lift this affliction from us, in His good and proper time. I have been speaking to the children about examining our hearts, for we are to learn through the providences what He would teach us. "Be still and know that I am God".
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