A Complete Thought

Status report, Feb. 2nd....

2012-02-02T07:24:00.000-08:00

Something needs to get me started this week and this morning. Lisa's Status Report is a good start.

Grateful.....that today is Thursday. Sleep in day. Recuperation day. Roam around in comfy clothes day. The week was stressful. Today is for recovery.

Drinking.....my spinach, peanut butter, banana, blueberry yogurt smoothie. (Breakfast is late today. See above.) And my coffee is right behind the smoothie.

Studying........1 Corinthians 1-7. It is a great deal of material to go through, but the first chapter gets me all fired up with my purpose for studying the Bible anyway--to know the wisdom of the Cross and Christ crucified though the whole world thinks it foolish.

Planning.....an upcoming homeschool convention trip and a tour through Washington, D.C.

Fighting.....a weather system headache. Our wonky 30 degree ups and downs in 24 hour periods plus rain plays havoc on my sinuses.

Thinking.....about what must get done today and what can wait because today's focus is some much needed recovery. Two of the five in this household are fighting upper respiratory infections so not pushing past the essentials, hopefully, will keep the rest of us from coming down with the junk.

Loving.....the Downton Abbey series. As so many are. I convinced three friends to watch the first season and then watch this second along with me. Then we share our favorite Violet lines with other another in our best British accents. Hy-ster-i-cal!

Ending.....here because the fifth grader needs math assistance. Bring on the coffee!

Finding delight, Week 4...

2012-01-28T14:12:00.000-08:00

I participated last week in Leslie's carnival but neglected to add the links. That's what happens when you get distracted while writing a post and end up taking two days to finish it. Hitting publish becomes a welcome relief and proofing flew out the window.

This week I'm watching the links. I hope you'll think about participating as well. While my "delight" passages have not contained the word "delight," it has been a sweet part of my Biblical meditation to think on that attribute of God's Word.

This week I saw delight in examining 2 Thessalonians against 1 Thessalonians. The key theme in 1 Thessalonians is Christ's return and what it will mean for believers--a reception of glory. The key theme in 2 Thessalonians is Christ's return and what it will mean for unbelievers--a judgment of condemnation. While the first glows with delight, the second offends many.

I saw delight in the comparison in a couple of ways. First, God is just, and a moral universe requires the punishing of sin. Scripture has always told this story from the beginning. Either Christ is punished for my sin or I am punished for my sin, but sin is always punished. As a believer, I delight in knowing that God's promise of my sin forgiven in Christ is a lasting truth.

The second way I saw delight was in reading all the many answers in 2 Thessalonians to Paul's prayers from 1 Thessalonians. It is believed that the two epistles were written about one to two years apart. In the first Paul prayed that the Thessalonian believers would increase in their faith and love, that they would persevere in afflictions, and that they would continue to be a model of the power of the gospel to all those around them. In 2 Thessalonians, Paul gives thanks for how these prayers have been answered. It truly is a delight to see how God works in the lives of His people.

Friday adventures told on a...

2012-01-28T13:52:00.000-08:00

Saturday.

A group of friends, fellow homeschooling moms, get together two Fridays a month for the kids to play together and for the moms to strengthen and encourage one another. Also known as laughing ourselves silly over this thing called the homeschooling life. The absurdities and the serious truths all get meshed together in one huge hodge podge while the kids run through the woods or the game room or jump on the trampoline or swim in the pool based on whose house is hosting.

This past Friday it was my house. And since Old Man Winter is not coming South this year, the day was sunny and the kids were woods rambling. When it came time for one family to leave so a dance class could be attended, we called the kids in. Except two didn't show up. Two of the girls. Questions and the answers that followed uncovered that while in the woods, these two had peeled off from the main group to talk.

After much talking and walking and not a great deal of paying attention, the result was they were lost. In the woods behind my house. My boys, who are quite aware of our woods, took off to find them. One of the girls had her cell phone so we did get in touch with them that way, but she didn't know where they were and neither did we. There are over a hundred acres of woods behind us.

Husband was home early on Friday so he got on the phone with her and began asking questions. At first she tried to tell him about the hay bales and the horses and the trees and the creek and the number of hills they had gone up when he stopped her and said, "You've got to trust me to get you out. The things that you are seeing are not things I can see. We need to use the same reference point. Tell me where the sun is based on where you are standing."

And with the reference point of the sun, he was able to tell her which direction to walk. He stayed on the phone with her and eventually the girls reached a main road where he was able to pick them up and drive back. The whole adventure lasting nearly three hours. No one had panicked, but everyone was greatly relieved to have them back, safe, a bit thirsty and hungry, and with a story to tell, but all right.

In talking to the boys about it, Husband said the whole thing served as a perfect illustration of what happens in life. We get busy walking and talking and forget our direction. Without a central reference point of truth, we try to find our way out or in or to by only what we can see. But our eyes not only deceive us when we're lost, but the sights (circumstances) around us cannot be our reference point because they change. Only the truth of God's Word can be a lasting reference point for which direction to walk. His Word does not change nor does it deceive. His Word endures forever.

Thankful Thursday is....

2012-01-26T08:52:00.000-08:00

today. But honestly, I am grumpy and not so grateful.

I have a multitude of things and people in my life for which to be grateful, and yet this morning's extra sleep and even fitting in a quick workout all dissipated in a moment of communication confusion, of a breakfast gone awry, of a kitchen now a disaster, of a hasty spur of the moment trip to a collision center that profited nothing, of an unsatisfactory science review that foretells multiple hours of work on what should already be done. What was supposed to be a relaxing catch up day of sleep and housework and schoolwork has morphed into a long line of irritations. With more on the horizon.

The list could go on. But then that would make it Whining Wednesday and not at all Thankful Thursday.

Some would say that this is when I need to dig down deep and think about for what I am grateful. I know those things--family, health, house, car, food in the fridge, clothes, etc. But a Thankfulness Gospel is not The Gospel. Several of those things for which I am thankful are actually the source of my current irritations.

I am a sinner.

I know that on days like this what I am most thankful for is the truth of my salvation and God's forgiveness and mercy towards me. Because no amount of thankfulness for my temporal things can in any way change or add to my inadequately expressed thankfulness for the eternal things God has done for this wretched, undeserving grump I am today.

This is a day of turning to the truths of Blessed Assurance, Jesus is mine!/ O what a foretaste of glory divine!/ Heir of salvation, purchase of God,/ Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood./

This is my story and my song on a day where I know the weakness of my flesh and the sin of my heart. Praising my Savior all the day long for what He has done on my behalf is where my thankfulness must lie.

Mondays and rain....

2012-01-23T06:15:00.000-08:00

make it nearly impossible to get out of bed. The second time.

Because I was actually awake at 4:28 and out of bed by 5:06. I studied 2 Thessalonians in the quiet and warmth of a Georgia morning (unseasonably warm--Midwest, please share some winter with us); I prayed; I thought about homeschooling plans for this week; and after an hour and a half, I crawled back into bed. For just a minute. I promise.

Husband says I am like a diver with too much nitrogen in my bloodstream, suffering from the bends, who enters the re-compression chamber before re-entering the morning, the second time.

The plan was for everyone to get up at 7:00. School needed to start by 8:00. But something happened in an hour and a half. It began to rain and the sweatiness I felt earlier was now a chill only warmed by snuggling in bed. The wide awake state I struggled with before sunrise was now a heavy sleepiness that only 10 or 35 minutes of dozing would cure. The productivity that I was chomping at the bit to begin was now procrastination.

All because of a little rain and a lot of Monday.

Finding delight, Week 3...

2012-01-23T05:58:00.000-08:00

All delight for me this week was found squarely in meditating upon God's faithfulness to prove in me that He has chosen me, loved me, and is sanctifying me. I studied 1 Thessalonians this week.

1 Thessalonians is a book more known for its eschatological stirrings than anything else, but I found myself newly enamored of the epistle because I looked for delight purely in what God does and not in what I do. For what He does, He does perfectly, but what I do will always lack apart from Him.

I've honestly not always enjoyed studying the epistles because they contain long lists of instructions and exhortations on living as a Christian. Not that I don't like lists. I love lists. I use lists for getting anything and everything done around here. But I fall into the trap that most listmakers do, the trap of thinking that because I've crossed it off the list, I have succeeded.

Regarding laundry or the groceries, I really have only succeeded for a time. More laundry will reappear and my growing sons will quickly eat up the groceries, putting those things back on a list. Success is trapped by time.

When it comes to the lists of exhortations: make it your ambition to lead a quiet life, to mind your own business, to work with your hands, to win the respect of outsiders, live in peace with each other, warn those who are idle, encourage the timid, help the weak, be patient with everyone, and so on; I have usually skimmed through.

From the first reading, the list of exhortations stirs in me the sense that I will not sufficiently do or succeed even in the most temporary sense of fulfilling the instruction. I know my frailty. While I will add to my list something I have already done just so I can mark it off, I will not add to my list something I know will not get done. The idolatry of accomplishment has a siren song.

Reading 1 Thessalonians differently this time, with emphasis and a search for delight in God's list, reshaped my focus. Paul starts out in chapter 1, verse 3, with a list of thanks for the faith, love, and hope he sees in the Thessalonians, "We continually remember before our God and Father your work produced by faith, your labor prompted by love, and your endurance inspired by hope in our Lord Jesus Christ." He writes that he knows these things, these proofs of belonging to God, are of credit to God who has done them within the Thessalonians by His election of them, "For we know, brothers loved by God, that He has chosen you," (1Thess 1:4)

The credit here goes fully to God. It is His list of what He is accomplishing in me. I am not removed from the responsibility of response to believe what He has said, but I am assured that His choice of me proves the list has been done, is being done, and will be done.

Regarding the exhortations on how one must live to please God, my eyes and heart zeroed in on chapter 5, verses 22-23, "May God Himself, the God of peace, sanctify you through and through. May your whole spirit, soul and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. The One who calls you is faithful and He will do it." The accomplishment of the list from beginning to end will rest in Him. My confidence is not in my faithfulness but in His. He, the Lord Himself, is my delight.

When you pull forward to a stop sign...

2012-01-19T06:59:00.000-08:00

and stop so that you can see over the hill to your left before you pull out into traffic, and the man behind you thinks that like everyone else in that county you are actually treating the stop sign as a yield and he anticipates that you are going right through the stop sign because he does not see the white truck coming over the hill either, this is what happens:

When you have first moved into your house in the cul-de-sac, ten years ago, and are still learning to navigate the awfully long driveway in your relatively new minivan, and you think proudly that you can not only back up down the awfully long driveway but that you can also back up to your mailbox; however, you inconveniently forget that your neighbors have a mailbox too, this is what happens:

So when your fault of ten years ago meets another's fault from last week, this is the result:

New dent meet old dent. May you co-exist peacefully and bring no others of your ilk to my bumper and tailgate.

As for the minivan occupants involved, none were harmed in the birth of the new dent. That is all.

Finding delight, Week 2...

2012-01-14T12:36:00.000-08:00

has to begin with the negative before the positive.

This is my second posting in Alabamenagerie's blog carnival on Finding Delight in God's Word.

I've got a friend who is seeking Christian community, the type of fellowship where sharing what God is doing in your lives is not cliche but warmly welcomed. Where words like "authenticity" and "vulnerability" truthfully describe the interchanges rather than tagline the time together. However, the peer group currently within her grasp is not open to such spiritual growth exploration and has responded with phrases as "I don't want any homework," "I only want fellowship," and "I can't commit to anything else right now." They want a bunko group without the cards but with all the actual "bunko."

She's frustrated. I'm frustrated with her and for her. Talking with her about the issue brought to mind this week's study of Acts 17:16-34. Paul has gone to Athens. He is alone and walking through the city where he is "greatly distressed to see that the city was full of idols." Athens features two intellectual groups. The Epicureans (whose greatest ambition was to avoid pain and seek pleasure) and the Stoics (whose highest ideals were virtue, personal responsibility, and providence). Verse 21 describes the climate, "All the Athenians and the foreigners who lived there spent their time doing nothing but talking about and listening to the latest ideas." As far as they were concerned, Paul was merely the latest talking head.

There is an idol to an "unknown" god. And it is on that point that Paul gives a great apologetic discourse of how, "The God who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth and does not live in temples built by hands. And He is not served by human hands, as if He needed anything, because He Himself gives all men life and breath and everything else....God did this so that men would seek Him and perhaps reach out for Him and find Him, though He is not far from each one of us...He commands all people everywhere to repent. For He has set a day when He will judge the world with justice by the man He has appointed." (Verses 24, 27, 31)

As Paul goes on to speak of Jesus Christ's resurrection from the dead, the formerly polite attitude of listening to him turns to mocking and sneering. Doesn't seem like there could be any finding of delight in this scenario, does it?

Read verse 34, "A few men became followers of Paul and believed. Among them was Dionysius, a member of the Areopagus, also a woman named Damaris, and a number of others."

That's where I chose to see delight--in the truth that God's people are found by Him even when the climate is utterly hostile to Him and His truth. He has prepared hearts that will always respond to Him. The numbers may be few, but He knows His sheep and they hear His voice and follow Him.

For my friend who seems surrounded by Epicureans and Stoics, I was able to point her to this passage and encourage her that a Damaris then can be a Damaris now. Start small, but start. Seek Him, and trust that the God who has determined the very places and times for men (and women) to live, knows exactly with whom she will have genuine Christian community.

Because isn't that the essence of delight? To delight in His Word and its sanctifying, refining, beautifying influence in the lives of those who will call Him Lord.

This weekend turned into...

2012-01-09T08:08:00.000-08:00

another project event for poor Husband. The garage door opener broke on the right side. Virtually imploded into shreds because the plastic gears ground themselves into smithereens is the more technical description.

Of course we discovered this fact as we were trying to open the garage door to go to church on Sunday morning. So while in Sunday clothes, Husband is manhandling the door up so we can go out and down so we can come back to an unburgled home. Good times.

After lunch he headed over to Lowe$ to purchase the new unit. Lowe$ is kind of like the Man's Wal-Park. And Sunday afternoon seems to be a big day for wandering around purchasing stuff to do household projects at some time future. Or not. I've come to call the store The Vortex. Because Husband will go in, but I'm never sure until I see him again that he has successfully pulled free from the tractor beam.

Once he did get home with the supplies a marathon of disassembly and re-assembly began. The original door assembly was not square which probably contributed to the opener's gears grinding themselves into oblivion. We've had trouble with the door over the years from the spring popping off and nearly taking a head with it to a man-child backing into the door with a lawnmower during yard work training and bending it. Considering the scope of yesterday's project, those fixes were minor.

Yesterday was the day to fix all of it. To start nearly from scratch. And six hours later the doors were square, the sensors were replaced, the track was re-aligned, the new opener installed, and a new keypad placed on the outside so I can get into the house when I lock myself out. Hypothetically, of course.

It's not Thankful Thursday yet, but I'm entering this post as an early installment to my gratitude for having a handy Husband who spared me from a Manic Monday.

Finding delight, Week 1...

2012-01-07T17:44:00.000-08:00

I decided to join Leslie of Alabamenagerie in her blogging carnival on Finding Delight in God's Word. In her Bible reading plan she is specifically looking for the word "delight." My study this year is primarily in Acts, Hebrews, and several of the epistles. I am also reading through the Old Testament using Nancy Guthrie's Discovering Jesus in the Old Testament. I'll try to note when the word "delight" comes up, but I suspect that my finding of delight will come more from what delights me in the Word and work of God.

This week I finished up in Hebrews. Reading chapters 11-13 is always that of great conviction and encouragement as I consider the proof of God's amazing faithfulness in the lives of imperfect men and women enabled to live by faith because of Him. From Heb. 11:24-28 on Moses, I found delight in seeing how living by faith did three significant things for Moses.

First, it determined his choices. "He chose to be mistreated along with the people of God rather than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a short time." (Heb. 11:25) When you see Christ as more precious than this world's offerings, than you will choose to do in this life that which proves His worthiness and glory.

Second, living by faith sharpened his vision for the unseen but absolutely real future for God's people. "By faith he left Egypt, not fearing the king's anger; he persevered because he saw Him who is invisible." (Heb. 11:27) So often when I have felt weary in the work of a Christian walk, it is scripture and its truth-telling of Christ and my promised inheritance that has given me fresh focus to persevere.

Third, to live by faith means that you absolutely recognize your dependence on God. "By faith he kept the Passover and the sprinkling of blood, so that the destroyer of the firstborn would not touch the firstborn of Israel." (Heb. 11:28) When I consider this story, I think of how odd it must have sounded to sprinkle blood over a doorpost so that the firstborn would not die. But Moses believed God's word and so he did exactly so. As Moses told the Hebrews about this sprinkling of blood, I can imagine that he was thinking how utterly dependent he was upon God keeping His word because there was no other conceivable way for their firstborns to otherwise be saved.

Delight in God's Word this week came for me in seeing how God has enabled me to live by faith. An imperfect woman seeking Him and growing as my options are refined, my vision is sharpened, and I know myself to be utterly dependent upon Him.

The New Year and all....

2012-01-03T05:36:00.000-08:00

its pressures of new projects had me hankering for a fresh vision of cooking breakfasts. Some years ago I made the switch to cooking breakfast six days out of seven because we could not afford the milk and cereal that was otherwise being consumed by the pre-teen boys. Not only due to the amount they wanted to consume but also due to that amount still not being enough to fill them up past an hour and a half.

The children needed eggs! bacon! pancakes! sausage! fruit! muffins! and the like! The like meant cooking.

I had a fairly good selection of breakfast recipes which we tucked into without much transition trouble. Several things could be done ahead of time as well, which always helps with the morning grumble.

I found a recipe for homemade doughnuts a while back and tried it for the first time this morning. It was not a success. The dough was uber sticky and even though I rolled it out on a floured counter, per instructions, the doughnut shapes did not lift up to make it into the hot oil with any triumph. Rather they stretched and tore and twisted themselves into odd shapes of confection. As they turned in the hot oil, I felt rather like a medieval torturer watching them writhe. And fry.

I gave up trying to make actual doughnuts with a hole in the middle and stuck to the holes part. The odd pieces of dough stayed just that---odd pieces of dough. Fried to a golden brown. Except for the ones that I burned black because I was busy fighting with the uber sticky dough. However, I reaffirmed the truth that cinnamon sugar and powdered sugar will make almost anything taste good.

The game at breakfast quickly became "Name Your Fried Dough Shape Before You Eat It." I heard wolverine, Nebraska, horseshoe, tibia, headless cougar, and a starfish with a missing arm as suggestions. Maybe homemade doughnuts are in my future, but it will have to be with a new recipe. I'll take suggestions.

Because the boys need doughnuts!

Before and after....

2012-01-02T06:52:00.000-08:00

Husband's New Year's Eve project was a rousing success. Honestly, no duct tape involved even. A bit of gorilla glue to create one of the compartments, but truly what began as I thought a sure disaster of sawdust and drill bits and a skill saw ended in a great piece of furniture.

I trust Husband. I really do. That walk to trusting him has come with fear and trepidation at times, sheer will of obedience at others, and behind it all the certainty that God has gifted him for His own glory and I, as his wife, benefit from that. On Saturday I had that choice again. To stomp my feet at the disaster previously known as the den or say, "I trust you," and walk away.

I went through door number two on Saturday. Call it sanctification. That and I was able to blog about it and text with a few empathetic friends.

I wish that I had a before picture, but Husband is not a blogger and does not think of these things. Add to that the fact that I'm near illiterate with this blog when it comes to taking pictures, and well, there you have it. Who thinks of a before picture?

So I went through my photo library and came up with this picture of last year's Christmas. Chess is in the foreground showing off a prize, the Chairman is to his left, my hospital bed is in the right corner, and just behind you can see the TV cabinet as a before shot.

Now using your blog reading powers of imagination, imagine a large screen TV in front of that cabinet on a small table. Got it? Okay, now look at what Husband did to the old cabinet.

Amazing, huh? He essentially cut out the middle and created the three cubbies and left the three cabinets on the bottom. Here is the finished project with the large TV on top.

Yep, that's my man. Considering that the first TV cabinet was a cast off from some friends and Husband's creativity and skills gave us this cabinet, I'm thinking we saved near $1000 when it comes to the price of pressed board these days.

More valuable than the cost though was hearing Husband say later, "It all happened because you said you trusted me so I went with my instincts." Priceless.

Later, I'll tell you about one of my own projects. Prepare yourself to be underwhelmed.

End of year madness...

2011-12-31T11:30:00.000-08:00

is happening here. But first the formalities:

Happy Thanksgiving! Ours was full of food for everyone and a chest cold for me. Blah, blah, blah.

Merry Christmas! Ours was full of food, presents, family, get togethers with friends and a chest cold for me. I'm running on a once every 30 days hack up a lung plan. I do not recommend it.

Now the original plan was for me to leisurely get up this morning, make some returns, and shop some end of year sales. I was good with that.

I returned home to discover that the den was in a state of flux. Major flux. Last year while I was in a hospital bed recovering from spinal fusion surgery, Husband bought a large screen television. It did not fit into the existing tv cabinet.

No problem. We simply put the thing on top of a table in front of the tv entertainment system that was housing the other multi-media things (VCR, DVD, stereo, Wii, etc.). And that is how it has remained since then. Until today.

Back to my return home. Husband actually said that he wished I had stayed out longer. Shopping, even. His plan, which he admitted he was making it up as he went along, was to dissemble the entertainment system and cut off the top to make a new tv stand/cabinet.

Which is approximately where we are right now. In the disassembly period.

There is probably some large metaphor for this happening on the last day of 2011 but I'm too busy breathing sawdust and wondering as to the outcome to figure it out for you. Bottom line, I trust Husband to figure it out. Some way, somehow, that stand will come together.

Because we have duct tape.

Happy New Year!

P.S. Because I'm a dork, I took a video instead of a picture. You get a quick glimpse of the GUY, though I didn't mean to, and you get to hear me clear my throat of sawdust.

To and fro day...

2011-11-22T06:45:00.000-08:00

where the running starts from the moment my feet hit the ground this morning.

Today is the day of last minute groceries, stops at stores to check prices, and even finish off some stocking stuffer purchases so they don't sneak up on me the 23rd of December. As they have been known to do before. Sneaky stockings.

It's a day where I'm meeting a friend after lunch with my list and together with her list we're going to tackle, brainstorm, delegate, conquer, and laugh our way through much of the afternoon. I admitted to her in making these plans yesterday that I was being completely narcissistic in having her come along. I don't want to be the crazy lady talking to herself in the aisles. But I bet you we see some today.

I'll flash her an empathetic smile.

That's a to and fro day.

Fun things this Friday....

2011-11-04T05:40:00.000-07:00

and the weekend will contain. Brought to you by the letter F.

1. Howling laughter with my homeschool moms' group. Sometimes we actually run an activity for the kiddos, but today the planned activity is about letting them run around so we can sit around and amuse ourselves with the funnies that come from choosing this lifestyle. I'm taking Depends.

2. Birthday lunch with a friend. Not mine but hers.

3. Pizza and movie night with my family tonight. The last couple of weeks we have had other couples over for fellowship, but tonight is all about our own fellowship. Our movie is Invincible.

4. Anticipation of Daylight Savings Fall Back. I may even move all the clocks tonight so we're ready. Who doesn't need an extra hour of sleep?

5. Reading and writing fiction. The October challenge I conducted spurred me to look into a writing course. I had previously downloaded a freebie from Kindle about a MFA in creative writing. I'm slowly working through the exercises and find them excellent for allowing my brain to breathe. A breathing brain is a good thing.

Hope your Friday and the weekend contains some fun, family, friends, and fellowship.

Thankful it is November.....

2011-11-03T06:29:00.000-07:00

and I don't have to write every day anymore. I privately challenged myself to write every day from the middle of October until the end of October for the sake of writing. October is a tough month for me, and I knew I wouldn't have much to say until the boom of grief had its toll, but once it did, I knew I would have lots to say.

The whole trend of 31 days of all things hit me a bit like most trends do. Namely, is this something worth the investment of my time and bandwagon jumping? Um, no, it was not for me personally. I read some of the other 31 bloggers and benefited from their words, but as far as my blogging personality goes, I have to wear the jeans that fit me best.

Which is writing when I have words, writing when I want to practice writing, and writing for the sake of completing thoughts that otherwise would ping pong around inside of my head and make me inhospitable to the other house inhabitants.

Maybe I should write more. But I buck the trends that do not fit my natural vein. Thankful Thursday though, I love. I don't know if The Upward Call or Rebecca Writes gets first gratitude on it, but my thanks to both for their examples.

My comment that I'm thankful I don't have to write every day anymore is a jest to myself. I needed the personal challenge without the public announcement. I learned about my writing as I made myself do it. Most of my posts were done without editing and editing and editing. More stream of consciousness writing and it was a liberating exercise. Turning off the critic and writing as the words flowed helped me remember why I love writing and also warned me why blogging, for me, has very specific limits.

Of course, November is the month of that Nanowrinomososhopobo thing, or something like that, which also has great intentions. I am just not sure if those are my jeans or not. In the meantime, things I'm thankful for today:

Automated funds monitoring: while sometimes the banking system gets a bad rap, and sometimes rightly so, I was thankful to get a call this morning from my bank stating they had put a hold on my debit card because of suspicious transactions. I called immediately because the children need food to find out that someone else's children apparently needed clothes. To the tune of $2,010.00 from a fancy store in Canada. I confirmed that our shopping was primarily done at Goodwill these days and not online from Canada. The number was cancelled and a new card on the way. The automated system worked on our behalf and also for the merchant who did not, thankfully, lose any merchandise.

Soup: as temperatures drop and friends send great soup recipes, we are all tummy grateful. Still.

Bible study: I'm working through Acts right now and Chap. 14 was a favorite because of its instruction to remember that strength and encouragement come from the truth that through many hard things we will walk to enter the kingdom of God (v.22). Commitment to Christ and His work requires persevering through adversity. He is worthy of any and all we might undergo in this life. He is worthy.

Family: raising teens and a tween is a challenge bar none at times but the sweetness continues to persuade me of why the investment and the struggles are so valuable.

An annual fall ritual.....

2011-10-31T05:36:00.000-07:00

occurs today: The Changing of the Sheets.

Our household enacts the summer sheets for summer days and winter sheets for winter days policy. Today is the changeover day. After we finish school this morning, the changeover will head up the list of afternoon activities. There is actually glee in the air. We've been putting off changeover day the last couple of weeks because the weather here, it likes to mess with our heads. And our temperatures. Just because we have a couple of days of temps in the 60's and evenings in the 40's, this does not guarantee that we will not return to temps in the 80's and evenings in the 60's.

So, we have endured by adding on extra blankets and wearing pajama pants instead of shorts, long sleeve t-shirts instead of short. But today is the day of changeover. The crisp cotton is coming off to be laundered and the cozy flannel is going on to be ready for tonight. The house was a brisk 58 degrees this morning (obviously we have not reached Turn On The Heat Day) and everyone was wishing for flannel sheets.

Today is the day. Giddy, I tell you. Because when fall finally does arrive, some of the sweating finally stops. Which is a good thing.

What are you doing for Monday?

Our sermon today...

2011-10-30T13:02:00.000-07:00

was on the second part of Mt. 6:19-34. Last week the discussion sparked at our house centered on recognizing what our treasure is and on what our hearts reside.

This week the sermon sparked our discussion on what it means to truly follow the Lord's command to not worry about tomorrow. The small thought is to think only literally of tomorrow. Some deny the realities of tomorrow with procrastination at best or abdication of the right use of God-given means at worst--as in refusing diligence of planning, choosing laziness and sloth, or expecting others to give you what you think you deserve by sheer unwillingness to obey His instructions.

While those actions garner more outright censure, our conversation turned to the more subtle threat of false securities. Many will claim to not worry for tomorrow because in the back of their minds, their storehouses are quite full already. Sure it is easy to not worry, or at least say that you don't worry, when you know, or you think you know, that your plans are secure, your barns are full, and your income stream is abundant.

In today's economy, and truthfully in any economy no matter which era you pick, no one has ever truly had that luxury. Thought many have chosen that path. Our choosing faith in ourselves is an action of worrying about tomorrow. Choosing faith in God's will for us no matter what Providence may result is not worrying about tomorrow. And that is harder for sure.

Recognizing our worry habits, whether subtle or overt, is convicting and humbling. He calls us to depend on Him and Him alone. In all things. For even when the job is secure and the retirement fund is flush and the promotion is in the bag, there is always tomorrow which promises to be full of enough trouble.

Only He promises to be enough no matter the trouble.

A 5K in under 25 minutes...

2011-10-29T08:26:00.000-07:00

while wearing navy blue canvas boat shoes. That's my son, Pele.

Yesterday I was telling the boys my plans for Saturday--to help out at a 5K race for Jay's Hope. I was to (wo)man the runners' snack food and drinks tables. The founder of Jay's Hope has been a close friend ever since she was a starry eyed newlywed and her first child, a daughter, was a colicky infant who had a smile to light up the sky. The daughter no longer has colic but still that smile. The family also contains Jay, born in 20001, and another son, a dimpled upcoming baseball star.

Jay died in 2006 from cancer. Jay's Hope, a foundation to support and improve the quality of life for kids with cancer and their families was born out of the grief that grieves with hope. Helping out at the Jay's Hope events is a way to remember Jay and celebrate the life that kids with cancer can have.

Pele promptly informed me that he wanted to race. He has not trained for a 5K. Although he runs weekly with soccer. The only other 5K that he has participated in was in Montreat, NC, over July 4th. Where he ran up a mountain and then back down. He did that in about 28 minutes. He would have run it faster but he stopped to take his inhaler for his asthma.

So we got up at o'dark early this morning to go to the race. I asked him about the shoes, but the navy blue canvas boat shoes were what he wanted to wear. He wore the race t-shirt and camo shorts. He looked like a kid headed to hang out with friends, not like he was about to run a 5K. And run he did. He started out with a friend who eventually told him to quit waiting for her and run on. And just under 25 minutes he came across the finish line. He placed third in his age group.

Imagine what he could have done with running shoes at full throttle. Boggles my mind.

He's an amazing kid. I'm thanking God for him today--his God-given strengths and his heart for living life full out.

Four things I told.....

2011-10-28T03:10:00.000-07:00

the boys this week:

1) You're great kids, and I'm grateful God made me your mom.

2) Be an encourager to your brother and not someone who discourages.

3) Quit messing around and finish your work.

4) Tag! You're it! (What we play when one of us is sneezing and wants to "pass" it on to another.)

This was a good week of sweetness in parenting these teens and tween. We strive to keep a balance in our home between the correction and the commendation. Some weeks that is more easily achieved. Entirely dependent I am sure upon both my relationship to the Lord and theirs.

In other words, when we are all listening to His instruction, things just run more smoothly.

Imagine that.

This week I thought and talked about the days when our lives were in lockdown mode. Lockdown because I had kids who did not obey me and they had a mom who did not have self-control. Trips to the grocery store or playdates or church were nightmarish. There was a lot of anger, a great deal of frustration, and very little peace. A spiritual mentor came alongside of me in those days and told me to get myself together, essentially. She said I had to acquire a future view for what those little boys would turn into one day. She warned me that a 3-year-old that runs away from my instructions is not nearly as dangerous as a 13-year-old who runs away from my instructions.

Her words were the chastening I needed to begin to study how the Lord would have me discipline and, most importantly, Biblically respond to my children instead of sinfully react. I took up that charge, not perfectly, but with a heart repentant towards the Lord and my children for my anger. He changed me. And lo and behold, as He changed me, He *changed* my children.

Peace came to our home. Not overnight. Not without mistakes. But gradually as peace came into our lives through Biblical instruction and God-dependence, our family began to reap sweetness out of our interactions. I saw His words bear fruit in my life and then in theirs.

We're still sinners. No mistaking that. But we're sinners now who will pray together for one another's repentance and encouragement and perseverance. And we rejoice with one another when we see God answer those prayers.

Those early days were mind bending and heartbreaking. I wondered if I, or we, would ever leave the house to enjoy the "outside" or even to be productive members of society. I wondered if I would ever enjoy my kids. I am gratified to say today that God restored and rebuilt us. He did not see us as irrecoverable in our relationships with Him or each other. He redeemed what our sins would have trashed.

To Him be the glory!

Thankful Thursday & Cheeseburger Soup....

2011-10-27T05:51:00.000-07:00

again. Thinking about what I was going to write, I realized that Thankful Thursday is one of the things I am thankful for this week. I started blogging who knows when (not that it was all that long ago, it's just that I didn't mark the day as anything special when I started and by the time I realized that everyone was all "It's my blog anniversary," that I had no idea when mine was. Although at one point I did try to trace it back to my very first blog post ever and did find a date which then promptly fell out of my head again with the tyranny of the urgent days of living. Such is my life.)

Where was I? Oh yes, Thankful Thursday. The only reason I participate in Thankful Thursday is because of a community of bloggers that started the meme and have faithfully kept it going whether anyone has participated or not (or in my case remembered to). It is about taking a moment away from things to focus on something(s) you are thankful for in your life.

Blogging in and of itself can have an insular focus. Naval gazing on the web. Thankful Thursday keeps it from being that way in your blogging life but with great balance, I think. Reading what the other ladies are thankful for in their lives often reveals to me how to pray for them, with them, and even for myself. That's a good thing.

The blogging community has its issues for sure. But the camaraderie of it also has its perks.

Today, I am thankful for a venue to give thanks. For a community of other "real" blogger friends who also delight in giving thanks. I am thankful for the connections made through blogging that lead to such things as sharing soup recipes because I am always thankful for soup.

Here's the requested Cheeseburger Soup recipe for two of those friends. Enjoy it. This one's on our menu for next week.

Cheeseburger Soup

1/2 pound ground beef (we use ground venison)
3/4 c. chopped onion
3/4 c. shredded carrots
3/4 c. chopped celery
1 tsp dried basil
1 tsp dried parsley
4 TB butter
3 c. chicken broth
4 c. cubed potatoes
1/4 c. all purpose flour
2 c. shredded Cheddar cheese (I use medium)
1 1/2 c. milk
1/4 c. sour cream

Brown ground beef & drain. In a large pot, melt 1 TB butter over med. heat. Cook & stir vegetables till tender, adding beef at end.
Stir in basil & parsley. Add broth & potatoes. Bring to a boil, then simmer until potatoes are tender, about 10-12 min.
In a med. saucepan, melt the remainder of butter & stir in flour. Add the milk, stirring till smooth.
Gradually add milk mixture to the soup, stirring constantly. Bring to a boil & reduce heat to simmer. Stir in cheese. When cheese is melted, add sour cream & heat through. Do not boil.

A question of import....

2011-10-26T06:41:00.000-07:00

Where do you hide your chocolate?

I ask this because in only a matter of days houses all over this great country will experience a massive chocolate explosion. We will engage in some form of candy tsunami. Perhaps you will participate in the Halloweenie type of event or its substitute Harvestial Festival or even its close cousin Reformanda Eventada.

And for those of you who will graciously bypass all the former markings of the season, how tempted might you find yourself the day after as you stroll through your local grocers to the view of 90% off candy? Chocolate included.

It is almost too good to be true. For whether our children bring it home and we scrupulously examine it for opened packages and razor blades, or we throw the loot in our own bags, the question remains: After you have pilfered, purloined, or purchased, where will you hide the booty for the following days and months?

Every woman needs that secret space of goodies. I have a few options. For several years I kept my stash in an upper cabinet over the broom closet. None of the children were tall enough to reach into it, and they were not allowed to use the step stool so it was a perfect place.

Now they tower over me who still needs a step stool to get into that cabinet.

Secondly, I stash some things best kept cold in the refrigerator freezer. I hide the bags behind the corn meal or the frozen peas. Definitely items that I know they will not be picking up for consumption.

However, I have discovered that this sin of stashing has passed to the next generation and they have discovered its value in regards to stowing away their own loot from their own brothers.

Thirdly, I have relented to putting my goods away upstairs in my room. That is still a somewhat hallowed place for them to trespass as from very young we taught them to respect the space called Mom and Dad's Room. I'm probably only safe with it there until Husband finds it.

Unless the chocolate contains peanut butter and then he will leave it alone. I do not mind that concession at all.

'Fess up. Where do you hide your chocolate?

In case I visit, of course.

Era of soup...

2011-10-25T06:10:00.000-07:00

or what we like to eat when it is not 90 million degrees outside. Because living here in Hotter Than, GA, means we get to experience summer for nearly 7 months, the boys look forward to two events: the first night of soup and the first night for a fire. Usually the two are separated by about a month because Husband and I believe it should be less than 50 degrees outside before setting a fire. Soup, however, can be served once it hits the 60's.

My boys have always been great soup eaters. This includes stews and chilis. I never thought about most kids not preferring soup probably because we've always kept a "I cooked it, you'll eat it," rule around here. I am your mother not your short order cook. So the boys have learned to enjoy lots of soups.

Our favorites are:

1) Corn crab chowder
2) 15 bean soup
3) Cheeseburger soup
4) Chicken dumpling soup
5) Tomato soup with a twist
6) Taco soup
7) Turkey soup
8 )Chili
9) Mushroom soup
10) Beef stew

Whenever I make soup for us, I always make a double, sometimes triple, batch. It is too easy of a meal to not put away some extra for freezing and pulling out later for lunches or dinnertime pinches. As long as I have great crusty bread for the side, I do not hear sighs when soup time is announced.

We are always looking for new soup recipes. I have some new ones to try this year but would love your input. What are some of your family's favorites? And if I have listed one you are interested in, let me know in the comments and I'll send you the recipe.

Car mechanics 101....

2011-10-24T06:27:00.000-07:00

is in full swing this fall. Earlier I wrote about the boys' inherited vehicle from my brother-in-law. The car has been the center of much discussion and many dreams. Some weeks ago Pele came inside from sitting in the car and told me,"Mom, I've seen my future self." "How did your future self look?" "Well, he looks good. A bit taller though."

Be still my heart.

So far they have learned to replace a radiator hose, flush and fill the radiator, refill and recharge the battery, clean the battery posts, replace the air filter, blow out the windshield washer tubes, refill the windshield washer fluid, and, of course, the time honored wash and wax treatment. Husband is the instructor that would make Mr. Miagi proud.

Truly, be still my heart.

I recognize that while teaching the boys these life skills is essential to their maturity, teaching the boys these life skills means they are that much closer to maturity. The bittersweetness presses my heart to a pulp some days. Today I was reminiscing about when I had my first back surgery and from my bed rest position taught my then 10-year-old how to cook grilled cheese sandwiches for his then 9 and 7-year-old brothers. Now that former 10-year-old is the 14-year-old washing and waxing his car.

Whereas I used to count the days until certain things would be over--sleepless nights, teething, diapering, potty training--now I am counting the days I have left for filling up their heads and hearts with the necessaries for life. That list seems to grow longer even while my days grow shorter.

Be still my heart, truly.

Treasures and hearts....

2011-10-23T10:19:00.000-07:00

are a topic around here lately.

The Chairman of the Board, youngest son, is a natural born collector. If his mother gave into his innate desires, the entire house would be top to bottom collections of rocks, arrow head points, knives, stamps, coins, football cards, and the like. The collections we have allowed him to pursue are coins, knives, and arrow head points. He studies each of these collections and is constantly on the lookout for ways to add to them.

Pele is a natural born artist. He studies drawing. He practices drawing. He doodles for drawing. He collects drawings. He reads about drawing. He plans on purchases for drawing paper, ink, pens, pencils, and all manner of drawing supplies. If we can't find him otherwise in the house, we will find him at his drawing table--drawing.

Chess is a natural born strategist. Hence his nickname "Chess." He studies chess. He practices chess. He creates chess sets out of Legos. He reads about chess. He regularly challenges his brothers to games of chess and is quick to teach anyone he can about the game--so he can play them in chess. He researches and plans on which classic set of chess he wants to buy next.

Our sermon this morning was from Mt. 6:19-24 about our hearts and our treasures. The topic at hand for adults centers on money, usually. For kids who do not earn an income, the topic at lunch discussion centered around how they choose to spend their time and what are the habits developing in their lives. As all three more regularly earn money at odd jobs and landscaping work, their income is gravitating to the areas where their hearts are most fondly occupied.

So we talked about the purpose of money as God's provision to His people and His purpose for us in stewardship as trustees of His generosity. We talked about the necessity of recognizing frivolous expenses, temporal expenses, and eternal expenses. Maybe most importantly we asked them to develop the habit of examining their hearts not only to know where their treasure is but also to beware what idols are creeping in.

Small steps of training regarding small choices today that can result in big consequences tomorrow, both temporal and eternal. Lunch was physically only the refrigerator's leftovers, but spiritually it was a feast of His good Word.

Today I'm embracing....

2011-10-22T02:45:00.000-07:00

my inner Martha Stewart. She's a very, very, very small inner person. In fact, even she proclaims that I am craft challenged and doesn't know why she puts up with me.

Nevertheless, I am participating in a blanket tying, knots precisely, workshop. We are making fleece blankets for the Chemo Center patients. They use the blankets when they are receiving their chemo and then they are allowed to take one home. I suppose this is our generation's version of an old-fashioned quilting bee.

Although having sat for years and seen the intricacies of my grandmother's quilt, and even helped my mom make some squares, I believe we have come down a bit in the world of skill that now we get together to tie knots of fleece. The power of the social interaction, I hope, will not be lost.

We live in an isolating environment behind computers and smart phone no-glare screens. We give status updates and send emails and tweet our latest thoughts, but for many the idea of sitting together with required eye contact and small talk is intimidating. Perhaps tying knots of fleece is the skill necessary to remove isolation and teach interaction.

I understand from a friend of mine that has done this workshop before that uniform knots are highly prized. That worries me. Eye contact and small talk I can handle. But uniform knots? Now I'm sweating. I suspect I may end up producing a blanket that a more eclectic chemo patient will appreciate.

Have a Happy Saturday no matter what you're doing!

Five things I have said....

2011-10-21T06:04:00.000-07:00

the most this week, in random order:

1) It's right where you left it.

2) Whose socks are these?

3) Empty the laundry baskets in the hallway.

4) Clean up after yourselves.

5) Get your stuff off of the couch.

Do you notice a theme? It's no wonder that a mom feels her work is never done. Cleaning one mess means discovering another. The boys are great helpers in keeping the house clean which is only reasonable service because they are also the greatest contributors to why the house needs cleaning.

#lifewithboys #joyandmesses

What five things have you said most this week?

Thankful Thursday....

2011-10-20T05:51:00.000-07:00

well, I haven't done one of these posts in a great long bit. Today is as good as any to get back into the swing.

I'm thankful for the uber comfy scrub pants that I'm wearing. I've been admiring my friend's pair for some time now. I finally asked her yesterday where she got them and while she didn't remember that, she handed me one of hers. I may never wear any other pants again.

I'm thankful for the season of life we're in with the boys right now, particularly the older two. They are involved in youth group and enjoy telling us about what happens at the meetings. Their comments crack me up and make me thankful that we worked first on building family relationships before having them involved in these type of peer relationships. I'm thankful for the foundation God has given us.

I'm thankful that finally it seems that summer is gone from Hotter Than, GA. After weeks of 80-90 degree temps, I can breathe again in these 60's and 70's. And I'm certainly happier for it to get colder than that.

I'm thankful that because it is colder the era of soups is upon us. A big pot of corn crab chowder is marrying its flavors for service tonight. My stomach anticipates much gratitude.

I'm thankful that we are getting together with new friends this weekend. I look forward to how God is bringing in new relationships and blessings through His people.

Scissors and hair....

2011-10-19T07:18:00.000-07:00

as a combo either work out well or not. Any girl knows that. We've all had our stylist disasters. Our in front of the bathroom mirror with growing frustration moments that ends in a pair of shears lopping off the strays. and sometimes more than the strays.

In desperate times I've even handed those double edged beauties to Husband and said with quiet determination, "Hack away." The best haircut I ever got was from him.

So, I shouldn't be surprised that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Yesterday morning through my head cold fog I awoke bleary eyed to see the Chairman boasting lopsided bangs. He was calm when he gave the report.

"Mom, I used some scissors last night to try and cut some hair out of my eyes. But then I did this." (He points to the two inch gap.)

Heavy sigh.

Once Husband saw the damage the decision was made to shorten the other side by about an inch. Leaving only a one inch gap before things even out. In four to six weeks.

I think I'm going to have to re-negotiate the whole I don't do hair deal to I really mean it--I don't do hair.

The day after the day....

2011-10-18T10:48:00.000-07:00

I've likened to a grief hangover. Added to that I managed to contrive a head cold that is marching into my chest and the past 48 hours have been, um, s.p.e.c.i.a.l.

There is always and only one place to run when the circumstances of consequence and Providence land on your head like a wet cat--His sanctuary. Honestly, I went there to hear Him vindicate my hurt, my frustrations, and my self-pity that "this" is my lot. Faithful to Himself, He didn't do any of that.

Instead He showed me how abundantly He has poured out grace on me through what was His lot. His lot does not change the temporal facts of mine, but it does change the focus. Every time. Sometimes focus changing is the baby step to keep you from deeper quicksand.

I've known a great many people who have suffered great loss and greater loss than me. The study of grief in my life has spanned twenty plus years. Loss seems to either define you or inform you. People who are defined by loss are inwardly turned. Life itself becomes an enemy because the dailyness of it causes deep ruts that shout about unfairness and discontent. The constant refrain is about what we wanted and what we did not receive and what we still yearn for now. It is questing for better in this temporality that rarely, and even then barely, contains mere shadows of what better truly means.

People who are informed by loss are outwardly turned. Life becomes a progressive journey home that will be marked by faithful and faltering steps and by both the shouts and sometimes the whispers of voices singing, "Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?" There is joy to say, "This is not my home." There is contentment in understanding that rightly we know ourselves to be aliens residing in tents longing for a heavenly country. There is peace in knowing that our mourning over death has its place but not its permanence.

Every year on the anniversary of James' death I struggle in the tension of being defined or being informed. I'd like to think that most days of the year I live informed. Remembering and celebrating that His sovereignty in my circumstances shouts great purpose to my days and declares His goodness. That for what He has given and for what He has taken my answer is, "I love Him more."

But on the days when I feel defined, when I think wrongly, and when I become mired in what could have been and what should have been, it is His hand that lifts me up to set my feet again on firm places. Head cold or no.

May His Name be praised!

The day is already....

2011-10-17T06:01:00.000-07:00

thin and it's not even 9:00 a.m. No wonder Mondays get such a bad rap. She comes right after Sunday, a day to recharge, and seems to burn out in the real consequences of dashed hopes.

All the vigor in the world can not be the "try harder" that any day needs. The hours will contain their plodding tasks, their ill-timed frustrations, and their heavy sighs. More than once crawling back into bed will seem the solution.

So I'm laying it out there from the start. I do not want to have to do today's living. But it is here. I do not want to have to be another's strength. But I am still here. I do not want to even own my own messes. But they are all around me.

With one step at a time, the living will happen. With many whispered prayers, the sighs will be stifled. With remembrance that it is what it is, but it will not always be; He does not forsake.

Bring it on, Monday. There is life much bigger than you to be lived even on today.

We moved here....

2011-10-16T14:37:00.000-07:00

sixteen months after your death. To a place that was supposed to become our home. To a place where no one knew you. To a place where no one remembers you on the days that hurt the most. To a place that has more often felt like not home.

I guess the easy answer for not feeling home here is because you are not with us. Every meal holds an empty chair, in my mind. Every basket of laundry holds an absence of your clothes, in my mind. Every laugh around the table holds the silence of you not laughing, in my mind.

It's always the mind that goes first. But wherever we land this side of heaven, the emptiness and the silence and the absence will be our memory. Not theirs. In some way I feel immensely selfish about that. All my memories of you are just that--my memories. But sometimes it would be sweet, bittersweet, to hear someone else, just one, wax on about you and let me simply relish the sound.

It would not fill the gap. It would not heal the hurt. It would not, ever, never, replace the loss. But shared grief does remind you that this is not the way it should be. Shared grief is the reaching out of a hand to grasp the hand that otherwise remains empty. Shared grief is the acknowledgement that you were then and you are now.

Today is your day of celebration with the One who never forgets either you or me. That's exactly where I will rest today. Until I get to the real Home and rest is the activity of my eternity. Until then, James.

A day we could have and....

2011-10-15T15:13:00.000-07:00

maybe should have stayed home.

Husband is with Chess and Pele at a soccer game in Savannah, GA. Miles and miles from here. The drive is not great on my back, so we decided to divide and conquer family commitments this Saturday. Since I pulled the being home straw, I was fully committed to being home and working on Bible study, finishing weekend laundry, preparing the week's meals.

The Chairman was interested in at least a mild diversionary trip to the local antique store to see if he could add to his coin collection. Friday's library trip put him in a possession of a U.S. Guide to Coins and every piece of coinage has been studied under the magnifying glass since then.

Honestly, I was not keen on that. Once in comfy clothes it takes the mountain plus a molehill to move me out of comfy clothes. The mountain of mommy guilt that youngest was a bit bereft plus the molehill inclination that a date for just the two of us would be fun moved me to shower, change, and hit the road.

First stop: local antique store that has carried old coins in the past. Results: nada.
Second stop: gas station with overpriced gas. Results: rude drivers cut me off from pump to get their overpriced gas first.
Third stop: Sam's gas because I decided it wasn't worth the cost at previous station. Results: gas $.12 cents cheaper.
Fourth stop: Dairy Queen for mini blizzards. Results: smiles on both our faces after previous fails.
Fifth stop: Goodwill Book Cafe to look for books on coin collecting. Results: locked my keys in the van. And no books on coin collecting.

Yep. Pretty much the fifth stop put an end to our day. The dreaded whirr of the electric door as I reached for the keys not there will not soon be a sound erased from my memory. Frantic I called Husband thinking that although he was over three hours away, certainly he would know some sort of car trick that would pop open the door.

Nada. It was becoming the word of the day.

So then I started calling friends. Guess what? nada. Because it was a beautiful October day and why be at home in comfy clothes, apparently, when there was tons of other stuff to do. Besides, not only was the minivan locked up tight, but the house with the other set of van keys was also locked up tight.

(Do not use the comment section to rail at me about a hidden outside key. Mercy, people, mercy.)

Finally I reached a friend's husband who talked me through some options all of which ended in calling an outrageously priced locksmith to come and pop my door open. (Note: the Chairman had a wallet full of cash that saved the day and a trip to the ATM so perhaps the whole nada coin event was God's preparation for the fail that occurred later.)

Two people never beat it home so quickly to settle back into comfy clothes, popcorn, and a movie. Sometimes the best dates are the ones that happen at home.

I don't do hair....

2011-10-03T16:46:00.000-07:00

which is a good thing because God gave me all boys.

Any friends with girls know that I will read to their girls, play with their girls, and keep their girls for as long as necessary. But I will not do hair. If whatever doo dad adorning their hair happens to fall out, come loose, or unkink while said girl is in my possession, she will have to wait until her mom returns. To do her hair.

I barely do my own hair. Now. At one time in the hormonal years, also known as the 80's, a curly perm was the order of the day. I chemically treated my hair to within a quarter inch of its life. Along with shaving to the scalp the side of my head, just over the ears, so as to give greater size to the big hair that entire decade demanded. I was obsessed with my hair.

I cried when it frizzed. I yelled when it tangled. I stomped my feet in frustration when the hairstylist said that I had to truly wait the requisite three months before my next perm or else my hair would shock itself right out of my everloving scalp. In tiny, tiny shreds.

Then one morning in college while completely exasperated yet again with my hair, I made the unequivocal decision that I no longer cared. Life was hard enough without my hair causing despair. That's when I no longer began to do hair.

It's all worked out rather nicely as I married a guy who liked my hair long, so I invested in all manner of great barrettes and bows and clips and simply pinned up the tresses out of my way for a daily fix. When we moved here to Hotter Than, GA, I had hair I could sit on. May rolled around and I cut that stuff right off. Drastic, I know, but I didn't do hair so it had to go.

Ever since, I've used the grow it out, cut it off, lather, rinse, repeat rule when it has come to my hair. I depend upon my hair stylist to say let's change it up. She keeps it the color she likes, adds the highlights she wants, and trims off whatever needs trimming. I'm her own big Barbie fashion head. Works for me.

Said guy and I had four boys. Boys with hair that did not require my fussing with, over, or about. Husband has always done their hair. In the basement with clippers these days, and he vacuums the mess up too. It's a terrific union for us. They go downstairs shaggy and come upstairs trimmed.

Lately though, some things have changed with the turning of the teenage hormones. Hair is becoming their issue. And frankly, I'm trying to keep my thoughts to myself. Which is why I have this blog. The youngest has always been a bit picky with his hair since it tends to the whole Alfalfa sticking up bit, but I think that hearing his older two brothers talk about their ideas for their hair has amped the ante a bit.

The oldest has hair the texture and color of straw. A hay fork is needed to keep it combed and a buzz cut replaced his bowl cut several years ago, making us all wonder why we'd worried over the double whorl and cowlicks for so long. Last haircut he and his dad had a misunderstanding about "the look," and it was a day or two before things got worked out with another run through of the clippers. I think his options are limited with that thick crop on his head.

The middle guy has hair curly enough to make my curliest curly perms look like a straight iron attacked me. He used to take the buzz cuts too. Until he saw the new Karate Kid movie and decided he might like something a bit different. He has now embarked on "growing it out."

I can hear the whole chorus of you girls who have gone through such trial and know the pain of time it takes to "grow hair." Right now his hair is simply big and tall without much shape other than curly big and tall. But he likes it so far. Last night I gave him a bottle of curly hair shampoo and conditioner and schooled him on its magic. We'll see what happens.

I'm trying to remember that I'm still not having to do hair. I'm merely watching these two teens decide how they will do it. In the scheme of things, our goal is that they are well-mannered and well-groomed. Sometimes that means the well-groomed look is a bit, er, unique. But that's okay, because I'm not having to do the hair.

A tradition continues...

2011-09-24T17:00:00.000-07:00

when Husband was 14 years young, his dad bought him a 1966 Mustang. It was the car of his dreams. And it didn't run at all. The deal was that he had to learn how to fix the car before he could drive it.

Fix it, he did. Husband rebuilt the motor, stripped out the entire interior, repainted the interior and exterior, recovered the seats, and replaced part of the dash. The car was his ongoing project. By the time he got his license, not only did he know how to take care of a car, but he knew how to Take Care of A Car. When driving this car, he was not inclined to reckless maneuvers that would endanger all of his hard work.

The benefits in our marriage have been the number of vehicles Husband has been able to keep on the road without breaking our bank account. He does all the routine maintenance as well as some major repairs.

Today, Chess and Pele received their car. Generous Uncle S. bequeathed his college 1996 Honda Accord to the boys. We had told him about Husband's upbringing, and he agreed with the philosophy. When his college car required yet another repair, he decided it was time to pass along the work. His boys are only 5 and 8 so it will be some years before they are ready to fix oil leaks. Maybe by the time his boys are ready, we will have a car to pass along.

In the meantime, my two oldest are about to take Auto Mechanics 101. And I have about a year for my heart to slow to regular rhythm while I process the fact that next summer I will have a teen driver in my house.

Conversational quotes...

2011-09-21T13:41:00.000-07:00

Me: "Life is hard and then you die."

14 year old: "Is it safe to say that it gets better after that?"

Me: "Absolutely. But you still have to write your essay."

Sometimes it is all about perspective.

The surest sign of....

2011-09-17T03:50:00.000-07:00

the weather cooling down is my cat once again reclaiming her spot behind my knees when I'm sleeping.

Last week a blessed....

2011-09-13T05:02:00.000-07:00

cold front blew in. Whether due to a tropical storm or hurricane that wasn't, those of us here in Boiling Hot, GA, were thankful for the respite.

The cold front is long gone as far as the days' temperatures (back in the 90's), but Fall is beginning to let her presence be known in the mornings at least. I get up before the rest of the chickens around here so I ~~run~~ stumble around opening the windows to get a taste of cool.

And it's a blessed taste. I know that we will still have heat and humidity well into October but September's morning breezes reminds me that eventually the sweating will end. Until it does, I'll enjoy these mornings on the deck where the air brings a welcome shiver of gooseflesh. A reminder that God always brings another season into one's life.

Part four...

2011-09-08T08:53:00.000-07:00

Part one is here, Part two is here, Part three is here)

Clarity can give you a headache and a heartache. I had both at this point. I had fully entered the arena of examining past relationships that had turned hurtful and present relationships that sharpened with grace. The result being that I knew God was and is being glorified in my weakness and sin, amidst the presence of pain. There is no bye on His work.

A friend's willingness to have God work out whatever, however, and whenever in her life directly benefits me because as she is refined by the Lord, she learns how to love me in the midst of my own refinement. Likewise, I am able to show this grace to others.

Not even perfectly, but hopefully, prayerfully, with the wrestling perseverance of Jacob. There will be scars in the process. Embracing God's purpose in those scars will mark how He is reflected to others.

Letting this part sink in has given me new gratitude for even the most detrimental of past relationships. Would I have chosen for these things to happen? Would I like a do-over on my own ungodly responses? Would I hope for a future true and biblical reconciliation? No, yes, and absolutely yes.

But whether or not my wishes are within reality, I can unequivocally trust that God will be glorified. In my sin--as He convicts and disciplines; and in my victory--as He receives the credit for mercy shown to me.

On to close the circle started here. When it comes to my parenting relationships, there are certainly some regrets, desires for do-overs, and always some ongoing refinement. God has given me new confidence and hope though in how I can biblically approach those issues. His work in me and my sons will scar and mark us all. The choice always looms as to how I will show those scars and how they will learn to view the scars. I could easily pretend that there is constant harmony and each one of us is moving from high point to spiritual pinnacle in obedience and love of God.

And that would be a lie better seen on t-shirts entitled, "Life is good," than lived out. The truth is only "God is good," and He exhorts us to tell that story much more loudly. Especially when life is not at all good. How much more valuable to receive all things from God instead of only the blessings that are just like we want them? How much more precious will be the praise from our lips as we exalt Him for working in the "ugly" as well as the "glorious"?

The one good story is that we are the greatest of sinners and Jesus Christ is the greatest of Saviors. To Him alone let us run in every circumstance. Let the truth of His scars borne for us work in us gratitude for the scars that tell of how we are being conformed to His image.

Part three...

2011-09-07T13:15:00.000-07:00

(Part one is here and Part two is here.)

To catch us all up: Part one is where I wrestle with the truth that God may glorify Himself in my life through my weaknesses and afflictions much more than through my strengths and blessings. Part two is where I wrestle with the truth that female friendship for me has always been complicated and usually fraught with hurts.

I do not think I am the only woman who has ever been stunned by the truth that Christian friendships are not immune to sin's toxicity. I do not think either that I am the only woman who has ever been disillusioned by the betrayal of another woman who professes Christ as loudly as I do. To state anything less than I have been on the giving and receiving end of ungodly behavior in relationships is a lie. I have both sinned and been sinned against in Christian female friendships.

What should have been some of my most edifying relationships have more than once become the deepest hurts.

So then, where does biblical reconciliation fit into the picture. Reconciliation is the process where two parties at odds with one another are restored to harmony. When it comes to human interactions, both persons are in some way responsible for the disharmony, because of direct and indirect actions, sinful thoughts, deceitful hearts and the like. The whole idea of only one person being entirely guilty is a myth I believe lives somewhere with Sasquatch. It is therefore impossible for biblical reconciliation to occur where only one person confesses sin in the matter. Being a Christian should make biblical reconciliation easier, but it does not always do so.

Fitzpatrick's challenge about God's sovereign purposes and Kim's question about Christian female friendships had my thoughts on a collision course as to what then does survive in the latter and is glorified by the former?

I'm lifting a portion of my comment from Kim's post on this topic: "In continuing to think about this topic I realized that the "kindred spirits" friendships I have developed and kept are all with women who have been, even quite severely, tested and refined by God. They have an uncommon love & gratitude for His overwhelming mercy. They love to think the deep thoughts and don't major in the shallow end. These are the women who show themselves trustworthy in my own difficulties and don't run for fear of "contagion" in affliction. Conversations that do not get past the latest trend or TV show do not have this intimacy."

Clarity like lightning struck my tree. The women with whom I have grown most close to in the years are undeniably the women who have chosen the no matter, whatever, however, and whenever blessing of the Lord as theirs. They are not walking around asking for affliction but when it comes knocking, and it does, they lean further into His word and promises rather than leaning away and upon the world's props.

Not perfectly even, but with the wrestling match perseverance of Jacob. They come away scathed, marked and scarred, and they do not run out to purchase Mederma so they can hide those scars. They wear them with the understanding that these are not marks of superiority but of His great love to conform them to the image of Christ who wears the greatest scars from the Cross.

In learning what drives these women to walk the hard path, they have challenged me and loved me more truly as Christ loves because they have a deep, abiding love for His grace shown to them.

On the other hand, the friendships that should have been edifying but became toxic involved great immaturity towards the things of the Lord. On both sides. The collision of immaturity plus the presence of pride, selfishness and unrepentance easily led to breakage. Even irreconcilable breakage.

If you've endured this long, you deserve a muffin. I just baked 36 of them. Come on over. In the meantime, there is still a part four to come. Succinct I am not always.

It's time to giggle...

2011-09-06T15:12:00.000-07:00

chuckle, chortle or maybe just grin. Just Jules has a meme tag going that begs us to admire the funny that becomes this life. Here is my turn:

1. What could serve as physical evidence that you sometimes lose focus?
On any given day physical evidence that I lose focus (not sometimes but regularly) rests in my laundry room or scattered down the hallway in the form of unfolded laundry. Worse yet is the unbooted laundry that ends up being washed twice because, um, it sat in the washing machine too long. Other evidence that convicts me of being the "mouse with a muffin" is the number of times I have to walk into a room and then walk back out to repeat the steps hoping to trigger the memory of why I went in there in the first place.

2. What could serve as physical evidence that you are loved?
Three great boys who hug me regularly throughout the day. Mostly to measure themselves against me and boast in how tall they are, but hey, I'll take it.

3. What could serve as physical evidence that you’re from wherever you’re from?
According to Jules, that physical evidence would require a conversation with me. Apparently I have a darlin' Southern accent. Maybe it's more in the heat of a rant I slip in and out of the dialect that pings me as fixing to let you have a piece of my mind. When I find it all. See #1.

4. What could serve as physical evidence that you went anywhere this past week?
I drive a minivan. Conveyor of all things boy and their droppings. Mine too for full disclosure. Currently the Starship Odyssey is holding state with a stinky towel from soccer practice, a Bible and bulletin from church, napkins from Chick-Fil-A, worksheets from co-op, a dirty sock, artwork from co-op, a library receipt of books currently checked out, a shopping bag with workshop supplies and a piece of cardstock that did not get laminated for name tags.

5. What could serve as physical evidence that you recently caved in to temptation?
The empty king size bag of Skittles in the school room trash.

Check the tag list at Just Jules and feel free to blog us some smiles.

Part two...

2011-09-06T07:37:00.000-07:00

(Part one is here.)

Kim Shay, of The Upward Call, is a friend I have never met other than online. I'm not launching into a discussion on the merits of online friendship but suffice it to say that I view modern day blogging and its accompanying social media distinctive to creating friendship as pen pals once did.

Kim asked me the other day for my opinion of Christian female friendships. I was less than glowing in my first thoughts and even when I did write to her my thoughts, I struggled with the struggle of describing something that has been both edifying and debilitating in my life.

I have previously said that God's sense of humor must run very deep to have placed me as a leader of women when all my life I was suspect of friendships with women. Past baggage does not fly free either.

Her name was Amy. She had short brown hair cut like Dorothy Hamill and an Irish Red Setter who had puppies. I wanted one. Mom and Dad said no. But that's another event. She was my best friend in first grade and she invited me to go skating with her. Mom said yes. I was over the moon because first there was her birthday party and then there would be the whole going skating thing. My social calendar was packed.

Melissa came to the birthday party. She was new. But that did not matter at all when she gave Amy a Barbie Fashion Styling Head. Now Amy was over the moon. I don't remember what I gave her because everyone was looking at the blue eyeshadow Barbie would soon wear. It was only an hour after the birthday party when Amy called and said she was taking Melissa skating. Instead.

Lessons in distrusting female friendship started early and progressed rapidly. By ten years old, I had concluded that boys (as friends) were easier creatures to understand. Simple, even. (I say it in the kindest manner.) Disputes were settled quickly, shrugged off entirely and did not involve a playground gang up of name calling, note exchanging and un-friending.

The female friends that I did make in school and college thought quite like myself regarding their own past baggage of female friendships. Only after marriage, while participating in a ladies' Bible study, did I truly think that perhaps female Christian friendships might be different than my past experience.

It seemed simple. If both women were Christians, lovers of Christ and His Cross and His gospel, then potentially disputes would not even happen because we would all be loving one another more than we loved ourselves and bearing with one another in forgiveness and we would be lovers of the truth. Certainly if a dispute, an utter exceptional event happened, then obviously each one would be quick to repent and believe and reconcile. Right?

Needle scratches across the record>

Yeah, right. My name is Opia and I live in Ut. And tomorrow I'll write about Part three.

Part one...

2011-09-05T05:25:00.000-07:00

I've been reading Give Them Grace: Dazzling Your Kids With the Love of Jesus by Elyse Fitzpatrick and Jessica Thompson. As one friend who is reading the book commented, "I agree with everything she says and intermittently want to throw the book across the room."

Exactly. It is that challenging. She confronts all the nonsense in our parenting that we have effectively deceived ourselves with for years such as, "Good parenting in equals good children out," and turns that model upside down to offer that we view every instance of parenting as not only the way God is telling us the good story of Jesus but of how we may also tell our children the one good story.

Easily three-fourths of the book is more about confronting your personal view of how the gospel of grace affects your life with one-fourth tackling how the gospel is to effect your parenting. The whole "You cannot lead anyone further than you have been led."

One of my favorite reviews of this book is over here and here. Read it and weep. I did.

All that was backstory with the point of part one being that I discussed chapter nine with a friend the other night. Some of us have been getting together weekly this summer to share ~~angst~~ insight, one chapter at a time. It has been so revealing. My greatest moments of clarity coming as I am able to speak out loud what reading the chapter and answering the questions at each chapter's end have been swirling around in my head.

Last night's clarity came on the sharp edge of chapter nine's challenge: that my chief end in life (which includes my parenting) is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever--no matter, whatever, however and whenever God may sovereignly choose that to occur. Meaning that God may choose to glorify Himself in my life through the weaknesses of my life; my sin, failures, and affliction rather than the world's idea of my accomplishments, victories, and blessings.

Um, but option number one hurts more. Can I have a bye on that?

A similar request made in a Garden resulted in the choice of trusting the One who is eternal to do exactly as He willed. Exactly as He willed landed that guy making the request on a Cross.

Tough stuff. Because that guy in the Garden? Well, He had all things going for Him. But me? Well, I'm just me--all messed up at various points but at every one, saying I trust that He will do with me exactly as He has promised. But how easy is that always?

Fitzpatrick states it this way, "Of course, every one of us will quickly confess that we know we need the power of Christ. Yes, yes, of course we do. But the veracity of our confident confession will be tested in our response to our weakness and failure and to the weakness, failure, and sin of our children." (Emphasis mine)

That is not an easy theology. We much more like the story of God blesses obedience just like you expect blessing to look than God blesses as He wants and often that blessing comes through refinement that hurts like the big one.

But it is the people who embrace His no matter, whatever, however, and whenever blessing that I will talk about next in Part two.

Food traditions...

2011-09-03T07:54:00.000-07:00

have taken hold of my man children. They hear love when I stick to the schedule for our food favorites and traditions. All of which revolve around our weekends.

Thursday morning: Cereal. Every other morning is a cooked breakfast. A breakfast I don't have to cook is the ~~price~~ reward of sleep in Thursday.

Friday night: Homemade pizza. One pepperoni and one cheese. Sometimes with a salad on the side.

Saturday morning: Dad makes bacon, eggs and biscuits or waffles. Anything else happening means we had an early soccer morning and will make a breakfast run on our way to the field.

Sunday morning: Cinnamon rolls with eggs. Sometimes bacon if everyone is up and on time.

Sunday night: cereal and popcorn. Not at the same time but within the evening.

Over the years a menu plan has been both a gift and a curse during the week. I try to stick to some sort of stability because otherwise the days are crazy, appetites are shallow and attitudes become insipid. The weekend with its relief from the weekly demands unwittingly birthed a menu that makes us all a bit relaxed.

Tuesday may not know what is going to hits its plate but Friday, Saturday and Sunday live in peace. Which means so do I.

What weekly food traditions does your family have?

Generations of men...

2011-09-02T14:45:00.000-07:00

have used the "man chair" in the ladies' clothing department. I remember my Granddaddy sitting while Mimi shopped. I was allowed in the dressing room with her so I could give my elementary opinions. Granddaddy's role was to quietly nod at her choices and hold the packages.

My dad treated the "man chair" as a place to catch a short nap. With a wife and two daughters, he knew the dressing room had better supply a bathroom as well because it could be days before we were all out of there.

Husband even utilizes the "man chair" on the occasional shopping trip he takes with me. I value his opinion and he gives it anyway. We once heard a comedian describe the difference between men and women in shopping as a man hunting and a woman creating relationship. It still brings a chuckle.

My sons have also been introduced to the "man chair" on their shopping trips with me. Hardly a mom likes to tackle that event but homeschooling means the guys are with you. When they were little, it was where they practiced their sit time. Now that they're older, it's preparation for my future daughter-in-laws.

Today though, the tables were turned. I went to Game Stop with all three of the guys. My young man-tourage. Chess had a gift card from his July birthday that needed spending. The other two were toting yard work/landscaping cash as well.

But there was no "mom chair." I think Game Stop executives ought to correct that. As it was I gave the boys a time limit so that we didn't spend their graduation in there. But I might have been persuaded to choose a longer time limit if a cushy "mom chair" had been present. With a small table and some magazines. And a Starbucks.

I'm just saying.

Swallowing pills...

2011-08-29T06:09:00.000-07:00

has always been my preferred form of medicine delivery. Mom says I swallowed my first horse pill at about four years of age. Prior to that I was getting monstrous penicillin shots every six to eight weeks for strep throat. Offered a pill over a puncture and you better believe I slurped that sucker down.

Liquid medicine was (and always has been) the bane of my existence. My mom went to new heights of bribery to entice me to swallow a spoon of nastiness. I had a primeval gag reflex when faced with that spoon of death disguised as antibiotics. Chasing it with crackers, cookies, even chocolate was never all that successful. More than once, what went down came right back up.

Husband didn't believe me on that point our first year of marriage. Which made for a messy proof the time I got sick in Korea and he had to help me choke down some utterly horrid green stuff. It was much more horrid the second time we met it. On the floor.

While parenting has had its challenges, getting my boys to take their medicines has not been one of them. Whether liquid or pills or even shots. Sure there was some gnashing of teeth on the odd occasion, but the general guideline is, "Buddy, this here liquid/pill/shot is going in. Steel yourself."

Compassion is my strong suit. Can you tell?

Fortunately, the incidence of seeing my compassion in action has been relatively infrequent with the boys being mostly robust guys of health.

But vitamins. Well, there's another story. I've had the boys on vitamins for years. Originally the vitamins were these wonderful chewable tablets. Until the company changed to these ridiculous gummy things which conflict with my policy towards sealants on teeth that I paid good money for and oh no we are not having them come off for sticky vitamins.

Meaning the only option left was capsules. The older two chugged them down without any problems. the Chairman of the Board has been praying that someone would make a motion to table the horrid things and not exist in his life anymore. No such fortune so far.

We have tried everything--capsule with a little bit of food so he could chew, and then swallow; capsule covered in peanut butter so he could suck on it, and then swallow; capsule with juice, and then swallow. It is the whole "and then swallow" part that is not happening. He resorted to opening the capsules and sprinkling the powder over a spoon of peanut butter which has almost put him off peanut butter till infinity. Me too in watching it.

We were at our wit's end. I told him that learning how to swallow a pill would have to come sooner or later because not all medicine comes in liquid or shot form. At least not until we're all Star Trek.

Finally the other day, we had a breakthrough. He swallowed the pill. Without gagging, without peanut butter, without tears, without trouble. He was fist-pumping the air and hollering, "Yahoo!"

Or maybe that was me.

Anyway. We are all thrilled, relieved and mostly I am pleased to see his look of accomplishment over swallowing those capsules. Of course, we have a very complicated routine regarding water temperature, the cup, how the pill is placed in his mouth and even something to do with how I am holding my tongue.

Whatever works.

Twenty-one years...

2011-08-26T05:45:00.000-07:00

happened yesterday. As of 7:00 p.m. on August 25th, Husband and I celebrated 21 years of marriage. After our DQ date (Heath Bar Blizzard), I realized that I was 21 years old when I got married.

I've been married half my life.

Not a bad life when I think of all those blessings. I fell in love with the love of my life and he's cherished me for the best through the worst. He is my best friend and the one who gets me entirely.

Happy Anniversary, Husband!

Curriculum Round Up at DeeDee's...

2011-08-19T08:34:00.000-07:00

ya'll! Come on over here and link up. Every homeschooling mom needs to see how we are all surviving.

Here's our story: We are homeschooling two eighth graders and one fifth grader this year. All boys. And I say "we" with purpose because as the math and science requirements have gone up, Husband's part in the homeschooling has also gone up. Regularly he teaches and performs the science experiments in the evenings. Particularly the ones that involve flames. I would not put it past my scientific abilities to blow up the kitchen. With gusto.

My philosophy with curriculum employs picking those things that fit the individual's learning style and also employing those choices that allow me to teach one subject to two different age groups. A tall order and one that has developed after expensive mistakes. Meaning my third point in curriculum choice is swapping with friends reciprocally those things not in our budget but in our druthers.

Here's the scoop on our choices:

Bible: During the summer we use the Explorer's Bible Study program. We are working through the Words of Wisdom book, specifically in Psalms. From September to May the boys will attend the Bible Study Fellowship school program to study the Acts of the Apostles.

Math: Chess is using the Life of Fred series. He has already completed Pre-Algebra II with Economics and is now working through Beginning Algebra I. We utilize both the textbook and the Home Companion book which splits the text chapters into daily manageable lessons. Honestly, we gambled a bit on the LOF series. Chess has a mind for math but not always the incentive. Repetition brings out his obstinacy. LOF with its engaging stories and grounded in life context math problems has him doing lessons even just for fun. Who woulda thunk it? Not me. But I am thrilled because he now owns his own motivation in math.

Pele is using Math U See, the Zeta series. He is almost finished and will be moving into the Pre-Algebra series. Math has been an ongoing challenge for Pele and MUS has allowed him to grasp the concepts. While I will not go so far as to say that he enjoys math, he is more confident in being able to figure out the answer because he understands the why and the how of it.

The Chairman is using Saxon 6/5 with some MUS Epsilon on the side. My quarrel with Saxon is the lack of mastery work on certain concepts (ie. fractions) and the repetition of more minor concepts. The spiral staircase approach does not fit my boys' brains and learning styles. We will finish this book out with him and probably move him to the LOF middle school series. He is patterned after his big bro, Chess, when it comes to math.

Science: Chess and Pele are thick in the midst of Apologia's Exploring Creation with Physical Science, lab experiments and all. I'm using the Sonlight Schedule Plus which is a gift from heaven for putting the material and experiment supply lists into daily tasks.

The Chairman is finishing up Apologia's Exploring Creation with Zoology 3: Land Animals of the Sixth Day. He has thoroughly enjoyed it. I order from Netflix for PBS specials on the animals and have also streamed the David Attenborough Wildlife specials too. The Chairman likes to yell creation truth at Sir David when he makes his evolutionary statements--which is good for my soul. Next he'll work on Sonlight's Health, Medicine and Human Anatomy series. He has also requested as an elective the Answers in Genesis book "Our Planet Earth." He loves science so we spend a little bit more here.

History: Chess and Pele are using BJU's United States History for 11th grade. We've split the one year program into two years and supplemented with additional resources and videos. (Maybe this deserves its own blog post.) When they finish they will each have earned one high school credit for history.

The Chairman is working back through the Veritas Press cards Explorers to 1815. He was only in 2nd grade when his older brothers did these so this was his year for repeat. There is enough content overlap between his history and the older two so we can share the same reading and video resources.

Writing: Institute for Excellence is our choice here. Chess and Pele are using the U.S. History Based Writing Lessons, Volume I. The Chairman is using the Level A Student Writing Intensive.

Literature: I took the suggestions from the Sonlight American History 8th grade list for our literature selections. Combined with living books that cover our history era, explorers to 1815, we have tons to read.

Typing: Mavis Beacon computer program.

Foreign Language: Rosetta Stone Spanish and Latin from the Roots Up vocabulary cards, Volume II.

I take the stagger approach with our subjects. Starting in September we will add in these:

Grammar: Older two will finish the third season of Analytical Grammar. My youngest will use a Spectrum Language Arts book for review. I don't want to start him on AG until the 7th grade. I'm considering using the AG, Mechanics book (focus on punctuation) since he has already completed AG, Jr. (intro to parts of speech and diagramming).

Geography: Trail Guide to U.S. Geography for all three. We'll split this into two years to overlap with our history study.

Electives: Chess has chosen a computer programming series and Pele is creating an animation, graphic arts curriculum from library and internet resources. They both spend time on these subjects individually. The Chairman will work on his geology choice.

That's it. What was I thinking? I'm still in the trenches figuring it out. But what an adventure, huh?

Unknown variables....

2011-08-13T14:27:00.000-07:00

make me crazy. As in crazier than usual. Life's details with all given variables look like my 9th grade algebra book. There is some number and it is "x." Now if I could just find it.

The "x" is some news my family is waiting on. We've prayed for and about the circumstance and we greatly desire to hear the news. The vortexian swirl of unknown variables that accompany this news and the unknown is crushing my focus right now and bringing on an addlepated thought process.

I thought I would confess my impiety.

I am working through Nancy Guthrie's One Year Book of Discovering Jesus in the Old Testament. It's an excellent devotional thought, passage and prayer that I use in addition to my regular study. She's a breath of fresh air in the devotional offerings of today. I highly recommend her.

But her titles for this week acted on my conscious as Chinese fortune cookie slips. The accompanying lesson acted on my conscience as conviction.

August 11: God's Grand "Yes!"
I was sure this was the day of hearing our news. I was excited to read the "signs." Conviction came as the words penetrated my heart to read that all God's promises are "Yes!" in Jesus Christ. No matter the answer to our waiting, will God's eternal yes in Christ satisfy my heart?

Why yes, I thought. Submitted again to the truth that God's timing is perfect and my impatience is weakness. On through the day I marched.

August 12: The Heavens Proclaim the Glory of God
All righty then. This would be the day where our news would be known, the variables cemented and I would join heaven's chorus. Conviction came as the day progressed without news and yet I am still commanded to praise the King of Heaven.

And then I peeked at the next day's heading...

August 13: Abandoned by God
Maybe this one I should skip.

Do you see where I'm going with this yet?

The titles of a devotional are no more confirmations and signs than a horoscope's predictions or a fortune cookie's missive or plopping open the Bible and seeing which verse our hovering finger lands upon.

Yet in the periods of waiting or wanting, of wondering and wandering, there is much weakness. When we joke about wishing that God would put a billboard by the side of the road with the news of what we are to do, we more than halfheartedly wish He really would.

What's a waiting Christian to do?

The lesson for me this week has been to acknowledge the weakness of my flesh to desire such things and repent. Acknowledge that God does confirm me in His Word and through godly counsel and in prayer and submit myself to such. Most importantly though, acknowledge the truth of His gospel for my life. The Lord of the heavens, worthy of all praise, has done all that is necessary in eternity for my faith and my life. Trusting Him in the active means not a continual replaying of the variables and unknowns, but a continual retelling of the knowns.

God is sovereign. God is just. God is good. In all He does for and unto me. And this week's waiting has been sweetly touched by friends who have told me His good news over and over and over again in phone calls, emails and even the diversionary date where laughter and sweet cupcakes were shared.

We still don't have our news and only God knows when we will. But until then, I'm in the lap of my Father who still loves even this silly little child.

Me and the boys....

2011-08-01T10:31:00.000-07:00

is what happens all day and every day in this household. Welcome to A Complete Thought! My blog entry for the First Annual MOB Society Blog Hop.

I go by Elle for purposes of this blog and I have four sons by the grace of God. I started this blog to try and finish a complete thought at some point on a given day. Any point, any day. That's a goal I'm still working towards. I write about homeschooling, my sons (of course), Bible study topics, all things miscellaneous that occur in life and things that make me wonder, fume or marvel. A Complete Thought & Its Randomness might be a better blog title.

We started homeschooling five years ago. I'm still learning the ropes and have my hands full with two eighth graders and one fifth grader. The other half of my spare time is devoted to teaching a women's Bible study. Any time left over after that will find me reading, writing, or sleeping so I can keep up with homeschooling, teaching and this mom's life with four sons. You see that housecleaning didn't make that list.

My sons: The first is James, who would be 17 years old. My first born. James was born having Severe Combined Immune Deficiency (SCID). We pursued a cure for two and a half years. God brought me to a broken heart, a restored heart and a heart for loving His sovereignty through James' short life.

Chess (blog nickname) is 14. We adopted him when he was a newborn. A preemie newborn at that. He came home nine months in the year after James died. He weighed a teeny little 4 pounds. Chess was how God continued to heal and restore me to marveling at His goodness.

Pele (blog nickname) is 13. We adopted him when he was two years old, after having three failed adoption attempts. Pele challenged me to rethink how God uses adoption to build families. He is still a part of God's sweet teaching of my heart and mind to be in awe of His redemption.

The Chairman of the Board (blog nickname) is 10. He was born to us seven years after James, not having SCID. He is the healthy 50%. The Chairman was part of God's Jubilee to our family in reminding that He really does give more than we can ask or imagine.

Everyone of my sons is precious for not only how he challenges me to spend time on my knees, but for how he demonstrates God's continual grace. Each day brings multiple opportunities to practice His grace in interaction with my family. I fail often. All glory for victories must go only to God.

Some favorite books and authors for our family: Lord of the Rings Trilogy, Rick Riordan series, Stephen Lawhead series, The Three Investigators' Series, Gary Paulson, Trenton Lee Stewart, Kathryn Lasky, and Bill Watterston's Calvin and Hobbes comic strips.

I'm glad you stopped by. It's always a blessing to meet other moms of boys because, goodness knows, we need to stick together.

Oh hie unto the curriculum...

2011-08-01T05:03:00.000-07:00

fair we go. Time to share what I was thinking back in May when the purchases were made. We school year round so we started in June. Maybe my comments now will have some benefit of hindsight. We can hope.

This post is part of the 3rd Annual Not Back-To-School Blog Hop.

We are homeschooling two eighth graders and one fifth grader this year. All boys. And I say "we" with purpose because as the math and science requirements have gone up, Husband's part in the homeschooling has also gone up. Regularly he teaches and performs the science experiments in the evenings. Particularly the ones that involve flames. I would not put it past my scientific abilities to blow up the kitchen. With gusto.

My philosophy with curriculum employs picking those things that fit the individual's learning style and also employing those choices that allow me to teach one subject to two different age groups. A tall order and one that has developed after expensive mistakes. Meaning my third point in curriculum choice is swap with friends reciprocally those things not in our budget but in our druthers.

Here's the scoop on our choices:

Bible: During the summer we use the Explorer's Bible Study program. We are working through the Words of Wisdom book, specifically in Psalms. From September to May the boys will attend the Bible Study Fellowship school program to study the Acts of the Apostles.

Math: Chess is using the Life of Fred series. He has already completed Pre-Algebra II with Economics and is now working through Beginning Algebra I. We utilize both the textbook and the Home Companion book which splits the text chapters into daily manageable lessons. Honestly, we gambled a bit on the LOF series. Chess has a mind for math but not always the incentive. Repetition brings out his obstinacy. LOF with its engaging stories and grounded in life context math problems has him doing lessons even just for fun. Who woulda thunk it? Not me. But I am thrilled because he now owns his own motivation in math.

Pele is using Math U See, the Zeta series. He is almost finished and will be moving into the Pre-Algebra series. Math has been an ongoing challenge for Pele and MUS has allowed him to grasp the concepts. While I will not go so far as to say that he enjoys math, he is more confident in being able to figure out the answer because he understands the why and the how of it.

The Chairman is using Saxon 6/5 with some MUS Epsilon on the side. My quarrel with Saxon is the lack of mastery work on certain concepts (ie. fractions) and the repetition of more minor concepts. The spiral staircase approach does not fit my boys' brains and learning styles. We will finish this book out with him and probably move him to the LOF middle school series. He is patterned after his big bro, Chess, when it comes to math.

Science: Chess and Pele are thick in the midst of Apologia's Exploring Creation with Physical Science, lab experiments and all. I'm using the Sonlight Schedule Plus which is a gift from heaven for putting the material and experiment supply lists into daily tasks.

The Chairman is finishing up Apologia's Exploring Creation with Zoology 3: Land Animals of the Sixth Day. He has thoroughly enjoyed it. I order from Netflix for PBS specials on the animals and have also streamed the David Attenborough Wildlife specials too. The Chairman likes to yell creation truth at Sir David when he makes his evolutionary statements--which is good for my soul. Next he'll work on Sonlight's Health, Medicine and Human Anatomy series. He has also requested as an elective the Answers in Genesis book "Our Planet Earth." He loves science so we spend a little bit more here.

History: Chess and Pele are using BJU's United States History for 11th grade. We've split the one year program into two years and supplemented with additional resources and videos. (Maybe this deserves its own blog post.) When they finish they will each have earned one high school credit for history.

The Chairman is working back through the Veritas Press cards Explorers to 1815. He was only in 2nd grade when his older brothers did these so this was his year for repeat. There is enough content overlap between his history and the older two so we can share the same reading and video resources.

Writing: Institute for Excellence is our choice here. Chess and Pele are using the U.S. History Based Writing Lessons, Volume I. The Chairman is using the Level A Student Writing Intensive.

Literature: I took the suggestions from the Sonlight American History 8th grade list for our literature selections. Combined with living books that cover our history era, explorers to 1815, we have tons to read.

Typing: Mavis Beacon computer program.

Foreign Language: Rosetta Stone Spanish and Latin from the Roots Up vocabulary cards, Volume II.

I take the stagger approach with our subjects. Starting in September we will add in these:

Grammar: Older two will finish the third season of Analytical Grammar. My youngest will use a Spectrum Language Arts book for review. I don't want to start him on AG until the 7th grade. I'm considering using the AG, Mechanics book (focus on punctuation) since he has already completed AG, Jr. (intro to parts of speech and diagramming).

Geography: Trail Guide to U.S. Geography for all three. We'll split this into two years to overlap with our history study.

Electives: Chess has chosen a computer programming series and Pele is creating an animation, graphic arts curriculum from library and internet resources. They both spend time on these subjects individually. The Chairman will work on his geology choice.

That's it. What was I thinking? I'm still in the trenches figuring it out. But what an adventure, huh?

Toddlers and tiaras....

2011-07-31T14:41:00.000-07:00

was the world I slipped into Saturday night. Of course, the reality show grabbing my attention was the Tweens, Teens and Tiaras portion as the toddlers had all been crowned the week previous. They were still there with their tiaras, sashes, frills and faux hair pieces--alternately being darling and wreaking havoc--but my emphasis was on my sweet cousin, C. She was there to vie for the crown of 2011 Miss Georgia Southland.

C. has been in pageants since she was about a toddler. When she was little, I honestly thought that her participation was completely mom-driven. Most likely it was. Every mom thinks their little darling is the most darling, and C.'s mama being no different, these pageants seemed to scratch the itch of recognition.

C.'s participation the last several years though have not been about the darling but about the scholarship money. The prize last night was $10,000. That's nothing to sneeze at. If I could dress up, walk around in 5 inch death traps and totter off with $10,000, I'd be throwing my falsies onto the stage as well.

I was in one pageant when I was a junior in high school. My best friend had competed in pageants her whole life and she encouraged me to go for it. Umm, right. I was the known school book nerd. Barely out of glasses and braces, the idea of me being in a pageant was ridiculous to me and the rest of the school once they heard about it.

Something in me bit at the challenge though. In addition to running against 9 other girls, I was up against the two known school beauties. Those were long weeks of preparation to walk through the school halls or overhear a lunchroom conversation about how A. was going to win this and J. was going to win that but "moi" was going to win squat.

Fast forward. I won 2nd runner up. A. and J. finished with "nada." Very gratifying in that whole teen movie ending. I was encouraged to compete again, by the judges no less, but I had done what I wanted to do--make the point that I could do something entirely opposite to the general understanding of who I was. That and balance on 4 inch death traps.

But C.'s pageant on Saturday was a 20 plus years look at what is clearly a culture. Those girls and their mamas, in a couple of cases their pink-shirted daddies, knew their business. And they were serious as bones about their business. There were evening gowns that probably cost two or five months of car payments; modeling outfits that cost more than my wedding dress; and talent that should not ever have left the family den. There were people wearing t-shirts advertising their favorite; family members holding signs for their girl; and looks that could kill when a particular star did or did not get quite the audience cheer her fans expected.

I tried to keep my head down, the comments to a minimum and survive the four and a half hours. I did, and in the end, it was all worth it. C. walked away with the crown. She now has $10,000 for her college tuition, a year of community service in the pageant system and she spoke for the platform dearest to our collective family's heart: Think Zebra! Awareness for the Immune Deficiency Foundation.

We're very proud of her. But it may not be until she gives up her title before I'll slip a toe back into that show. It's just not my protein drink anymore.

The people who "get" me....

2011-07-28T08:47:00.000-07:00

are different from the people who think the best of me. And way different from the people who think the worst of me.

People who think the best of you are the ones who will give you the benefit of the doubt when, not if, you do something that they do not completely understand. If they hear a story about you that causes them to scratch their head and wonder, their conclusion almost always is based on past shared knowledge and experience of your character. If you have shown yourself trustworthy with them, then though they don't entirely understand why or what you did, they will think the best of you.

And maybe ask you about it later. They welcome the chance to understand you. One day they might "get" you.

People who "get" you are the ones who know why you did or said something. Questions aren't asked because they can see themselves possibly doing and saying the same. Your thoughts and theirs travel along a similar plane. There is a higher interactive level with these friends. They finish the sentence you can't. Your weird turns of phrase and strange metaphors cause them to giggle because they see the same oddments of life that you do. They hand you the tissue before you ask. They know what you need and when you need it. They have seen your quirks and still accept you. Kindred spirits. Those are the people who "get" you.

The people who "get" me are the ones I go to when I'm struggling or frustrated. They are the ones I want to hear first when listening for a rejoicing response. These are the ones who will laugh at the inside joke even if the outside hasn't been explained.

I think both types of people are needed in relationships today. Those who will think the best of you, because goodness knows, there are plenty to think the worst. But the ones who will hold the dearest spot in my heart for years past and future, are the ones who "get" me.

Thinking about Harry Potter...

2011-07-26T09:04:00.000-07:00

and deciding to write it out.

I mentioned in a previous post that one of my sons has been asking to read H.P. for some time but I had told him that I wanted to read them first. When the first book came out in 1997, I remember a wave of furor in the Christian community about all of the wizardry, witchery, good/bad magic. However, I was grieving the death of my firstborn and about to adopt a child. Just living life was the immediate challenge and working through whether my children would read the series in the future was not important. The furor was not my interest.

Fast forward to now, I have boys that are interested in books. All kinds of books. They read a minimum of an hour a day and keeping up with what they are reading is uber challenging. Going to the library is challenging because they "have read everything." I depend upon book reviews and recommendations from friends as to directing them to good reading material. I have also used resources like Honey for a Child's Heart, Books Children Love: A Guide to the Best Children's Literature & Best Books: for Kindergarten through High School for guidance as well.

But I do not pretend to have read everything they have read and I am sure less than the "best" literature has slipped through. I am certain themes and ideas and language that I would rather them not be exposed to at certain ages has already happened and will happen again. When they present me with an unfamiliar book/author in the library I do the best speed reading skim I can before giving them permission to read.

Having said all of that, I did want to give a different treatment to the H.P. series this summer in light of all the furor (past & present) that seems to come up with this author and her work.

BTW, if you love all things H.P. do not take my remarks as bashing your affections, simply read them (or not) as one mom working through her thoughts and choosing the best she knows to for her own children.

Onward ho!

I thought the first two books were engaging and humorous with a balance of intrigue, suspense, villainy and values related to courage and friendship, loyalty and sacrifice. Kind of like Disney movie stuff. I remembered that some comparisons had been made between H.P. and the LOTR trilogy as related to good/bad magic issues. I could see that idea having just finished the LOTR trilogy this year with the boys. We read aloud every.single.page.

The third H.P. book seemed to take a darker turn and the ending monologue of Sirius Black, Wormtail, et al was tedious to me, but I did give permission for them to read through the third book. But not past that at this point because as the series progressed, I definitely saw darker characterizations, an increase in disputable language, innuendos and themes. None of which do I believe added extra interest to the story.

I get that Harry is "growing up" and his interests and moods are changing. But physical maturity does not have to mean a slide into more cursing, more sullenness, and more questionable behavior. That is certainly not the goal in our family for our growing boys. The emphasis on "snogging" in the sixth book is not really what I want the boys reading about right now seeing as the daily culture battle of purity already exists.

I do understand the power of the story. I laughed, I cried, et cetera. Because it is engaging to see the Star Wars idea of good versus evil played out in fantasy (and real life). I like to see the good guy with his white hat win in the cosmic defeat of bad guys with black hats. I also see the biblical allusions to the Ultimate Story being played out, most strongly in the seventh book. I did not see it truly consistent throughout the series and even wondered if Rowling added that element only after years of hearing the Christian community's criticisms of her story.

I don't know. I do not believe that reading about witches and wizards spurs a kid to try and become a witch or wizard. But I do think it is foolish to deny the pull of the genre. (Reference the blossoming vampire industry in young adult literature and TV shows. Remember Buffy? Angel?) I do know that if I were reading these books aloud to the boys, I would be doing a lot of editing which spurs my decision at this point that only books one through three are on the table. We'll take it one at a time after that and like anything, we discuss what we read around here as measured to the only truly Good Book.

Again, this is not a bashing of H.P. but this mom's take on the series for her kids. Although I appreciate a fellow blogger's tweet the other day that spoke to the effect that the upside of having a blog with stats lower than dirt is the decreased likelihood of offending anyone.

It will be okay...

2011-07-21T13:14:00.000-07:00

is the motto a fellow homeschooling friend and I have promised to say to one another when we feel as though we would rather be thrown to the lions than have to explain nouns once again.

"It will be okay." Just vague enough to apply to how I will muddle through physical science and she will view smeared slides under a microscope for biology. Just specific enough to remind ourselves that a child will one day successfully remember math facts and grammar facts without causing gray hairs to sprout from our chins with the effort of teaching them.

"It will be okay." Okay because our efforts to homeschool are bigger than the academic facts. Okay because our family's educational goals do matter. Okay because our failures show us God's grace and our successes show us God's grace. Okay because God is our principal and His word gives us principles for this work. (Remember the difference between "-pal" and "-ple"?)

"It will be okay." For the days when nothing is okay. I'm cranky and burned out from the minute my alarm blares morning news. The shower is not hot enough and needs scrubbing to boot. The boys are slow to get up and the cat has barfed in the hallway. The laundry from yesterday didn't get switched to the dryer and is now sour but breakfast is burning so I'm too distracted to ask someone else to do it. The morning devotion points out my inadequacies and I send an arrow prayer for forgiveness when I really should give 40 minutes in the closet.

"It will be okay." For when the day goes from bad to worse. No one understands their math, most of all me. Science can't be completed because I don't have a 2 liter bottle for the experiment. History bears down upon us in a real life vignette of the colonists (boys) seeking independence while England (me) is considering new taxes and Coercive Acts. Writing is a disaster because apparently spelling and neatness do count. Typing and Spanish cannot be done because the computer has imploded with the blue screen of death.

"It will be okay." When I fall into bed at night and wonder if I can ask the school bus to stop here in August and soak in a bathtub of bubbles until then. When I groan before the Lord that this job is truly too hard. When I remember that quiet time for me today was more about not hearing my own voice than theirs because I really am sick and tired of myself and the naval gazing.

"It will be okay." His response to me in His word. His response to me that what He has given to me to do, He has provided for me with Himself. Not another curriculum or a formula or a new way to teach fractions. Not a method or improved philosophy or innovation for Latin roots. Not more time or patience, smarter kids or a smarter mom. Not anything but Him will make the difference in the doing of the task.

I'll remember again He gently leads those that have young, and that's me, baby. Praise the Lord, it will be okay.

He used to have angel sleeves...

2011-07-15T09:04:00.000-07:00

you know, that roll of chubbiness around toddler wrists. A crease so deep I would check to make sure that he had not slipped on a rubber band.

Now those wrists lead to man hands. Between his hands and his feet he is the pup who has not grown into the size promised. The estimate from his two year old height records tops out at 6'2" to 6'3". That's a big deal when my first view of him was only 14" long.

Chess was a preemie. Born at 28 weeks he was the smallest human being I had ever seen, 2 lbs. 6 ozs. Until I looked at the isolette next to him and looked at a baby born at 26 weeks weighing only 1 lb. 13 ozs. She had been born to a 13 year old girl.

The high and low of a Neonatal Intensive Care Unit is boundless. I was there on a high. Meeting Chess' birthmother and him. Wondering if God really, I mean really, could I even believe it really, was going to bless us with a baby, a son, nine months after my first son had died. My head threatened to explode from all the jumbled thoughts, hopes and possibilities.

Today he turns 14. My heart still catches when I look at him and remember how once his skin was translucent. Now it boasts chin whiskers. How once my wedding ring could circle his ankle. Now I can't circle my fingers around his wrist. How once the biggest challenge of the day was getting him to suck, breathe and swallow--to keep life giving nourishment down without projectile vomiting. Now I need a small grocery store in my kitchen to keep him in food.

I would not have believed it 14 years ago. I relish how it is now.

I used to hug him to my heart. Now when I hug him, I hear his heart.

Happy Birthday, son of my heart.

However many years ago....

2011-07-13T06:45:00.000-07:00

I started this blog, one main reason was a place to put down my thoughts without interruption.

Let us all pause for a raucous and hysterical fit of laughter to last however many years I have been writing this blog. <Snerkle>

What was I ever thinking? Unless I get up at ol' crack of dawn to write or write in the wee hours of a.m., at which time my concentration factor is less than negligible, there is no way at all I have uninterrupted thoughts. I do not think I can even define an uninterrupted thought. My own thoughts interrupt my thoughts.

Over the July 4th holiday we were with some extended family members who roll on a different worldview globe than ourselves. One cousin in specific has been the very definition of a jet-setting career woman. A few months ago she decided to chuck the corporate world and commit to staying home full time with her two young children. For a year. To see how it goes.

First I said, "Bravo!" And then I asked, "SO, how is it going?"

With transparency she replied, "It is much harder."

First I felt validated in my oh-so-mundane not catching a jet flight to Indonesia today to offer a microloan to the newest sandal maker way, and then I thought, you have no idea. Yet.

Although the idea is growing in her as we talked about things and she mentioned that the hardest part is the thinking throughout the day. In career mode she is juggling hundreds of thoughts, a schedule, meetings, decisions and interruptions. In mom mode she is juggling hundreds of thoughts, a schedule, meetings, decisions and interruptions.

What makes the difference? Shutting the door, maybe. I don't know many office settings where co-workers are hollering at you through the bathroom door or shoving notes underneath with questions of import such as, "Where are my frog rain boots?"

I hear lots of moms, at all stages and ages of kid-dom, talking about hiding in the closet whether for prayer or sneaking chocolate. I joke about needing the cone of silence around my head to hold a coherent phone conversation. And don't dare tell the kiddoes that you need it quiet for 15 minutes to read your book club chapter because someone is likely to have an arterial bleeding skinned knee in that amount of time.

Interruptions to my thinking have become so much a part of the flow of my day that....um, I forgot what I was saying.

This isn't a complaining post. Rather I'm trying to remember with self-amusement that I thought this season of life would contain a time of uninterrupted thoughts. Enter the blog. Um, no. Just writing this post has taken two and a half days and over forty interrupts. If I had a point, it was lost somewhere around word fifteen.

I know, I know, I know that someone is expecting the sappy bow on top of how one day I'll miss the interruptions because the house will be too quiet and all the kiddoes gone. I know it will. With two teens I'm already hearing that silence. And I'm not yearning for those days either. I am observing that where I am now is where I am meant to be.

Interruptions and all. Incomplete thoughts and all. No matter what the heck I've named this blog.

If you give a mom a....

2011-07-11T08:55:00.000-07:00

Saturday morning off to go to Staples to buy back to school supplies, she will go there and find out that the super ad doesn't start until Sunday.

So she will prowl around the store making notes on what she will buy once the ad starts.

Since she is on that side of town anyway, she'll browse Ross and Old Navy and still not find anything at all.

Determined to redeem the Saturday off because she has birthday money to spend and her mom with her for shopping, she will head to her next choice of stores she has heard is having a sale.

Shopping without results only makes her hungry so she will eat out and order the biggest glass of ice tea available because frankly it is 112 degrees walking across parking lots.

Now re-energized with food and drink, she will head into the next store and tell her mom she is looking for black sandals but will spend time only looking at the super cute Yellow Box sandals and end up buying two pairs for the price of one.

Undeterred and having forgotten the black sandals, she will next find a maxi dress in the juniors' department after trying on half a dozen options. But hey, the juniors dept? She hasn't shopped there in years, even a decade, and she will feel quite nostalgic.

At which point Husband will call and ask, "I thought you were going to Staples?" and her nostalgia about shopping in the juniors department will dissipate into remembering that supper must still be planned.

She will hurriedly run into two more stores, towing her mom behind because having a Saturday off comes rarely. Both she and her mom will find great deals using coupons and gift cards and birthday money.

Exhausted and quite hot again, this mom and her mom will return home with packages in tow but nary a back to school supply because remember, the super ad doesn't start until Sunday.

Um, did I miss June....

2011-07-07T08:39:00.000-07:00

because I think I'm missing July.

Sheesh. The last month, as in a literal four weeks, has been mostly lived out of one suitcase or another. That's not a complaint. I love traveling.

It is the re-entry into "real" life of which I am none too fond.

However. Back to the things we have enjoyed this summer so far:

1. Trip to Alabama to be with the Vitafam of Vitafamiliae. This happened previous to the last four weeks but I am marking it as my kick off to the summer. We loved on those amazing people and knew ourselves blessed.

2. Trip to Charleston for a wedding. Which actually happened before #1 but I have just decided that order doesn't matter today. So be it.

3. Trip to the beach with friends. A long glorious week of sand, surf, sand, sun, sand, seafood and did I mention sand?

4. Trip to the mountains with family. A long weekend of coolness. Almost twenty degrees cooler than my present location coolness. Utterly cool that was.

And now we are home. For a bit. A bit enough for me to put the suitcases away and plan meals and lounge by the pool and do the stuff that summer brings. I guess the staycation part of summer vacation has now begun.

So be it. We are blessed.

The Chairman loves it....

2011-07-02T08:11:00.000-07:00

when I cook an egg in the nest for breakfast. The fact that he loves it so much tickles me. A piece of bread with a hole in the middle. Spread with butter and dumped into an iron skillet. Fried until a scrambled (the way he prefers it) egg is poured into the hole. Cook and flip and serve.

That's it. Nothing fancy. Nothing extraordinary. But he loves it. Treats me like a mom queen the whole day.

I wish life were as easy an an egg in the nest.

Question and answer....

2011-07-01T08:07:00.000-07:00

I asserted that The Mysterious Benedict Society trilogy is excellent. Jules asked in the comments of that post, "What makes TMBS trilogy so good?"

Thanks for asking. I'd love to tell you.

I like clever books. Clever (to me) is where the unpredictable meets the recognizable. TMBS is full of both the unpredictable and the recognizable. The story is unpredictable in some of the plot twists but the characters and the difficulties they face are recognizable in life today. Key themes are how one confronts fear, values friendship, handles obstacles and remembers what is important in life and love.

The story is about four gifted children who for various life reasons are looking for "special opportunities." Individually they go through a series of oddly complex tests before being chosen for a secret mission, headed by the mysterious Mr. Benedict. The cast of characters surrounding Mr. Benedict are equally gifted and mysterious. Over the course of the trilogy the life stories of each of the characters comes to light. And the filling out of each character also occurs as they are presented with new challenges.

Trenton Lee Stewart, the author, is a master of puns and twisty turns of phrases. For example, the story's villains work on Nomansan Island. Say it out loud if your eye didn't catch it. Once I caught this technique, I found myself saying all the place and character names out loud. With great delight.

Stewart also incorporates riddles throughout the book, challenging the reader to solve the clues alongside the main characters. Mystery within mystery builds as you try to figure out the next twist, solution and conclusion.

My favorite animated movie is Up. And while that movie is targeted as a children's film, the themes shout about adult life experience. Particularly those life experiences that have included sorrow, loss and heartbreak. Deep questions and deeper answers. I found myself "in" the movie Up. Hurting and rejoicing with those characters.

Likewise, TMBS is listed as a 4th-7th grade reading level. I beg to differ with that label. The book can certainly be read by a 4th grader, but I strongly believe that the more "life" under your belt, the more head nodding and chuckling will be done. I knew myself in these characters and their experiences, either in past life events or current ones. I think that makes an excellent book--to be able to "hear" your life in a story and still be connected to what is real.

I found the first paperback in a little bookstore at the beach and bought it thinking it would be a good read aloud to Husband while we drove. The minivan was silent as I read chapter after chapter. All of us engrossed in the characters and their story. Now, each of the boys is working through the trilogy at their own pace.

So there's your answer: the clever in the unpredictable meeting the recognizable. That's why I think TMBS trilogy is so good.

A friend drove through....

2011-06-28T12:29:00.000-07:00

this week on her way to a wedding in Savannah. We got to be the lunch rest stop. Egg salad on a romaine and spinach bed fit the accompanying conversation of catching up with life. She's a friend who lives hundreds of miles away but our conversations do not bear any lag at all. Whether it's four days or two months between talks, I know her hearing me is about her "getting" me.

To know that someone"gets"me has been on my mind lately. I wasn't the queen bee at school but neither was I the head geek. I wasn't the peppy cheerleader nor was I the girl jock. I think in some manner I have nearly always lived on the outside.

I said as much to someone the other day and she chided that our perception is not always reality. Check. But I told her I didn't need a sermon, I wanted her ears. Perception may not always be reality, but perception can become a reality. Reality that defines and shapes and forms action. Nearly every action we take is either directly or indirectly related to perception.

Making it all the more necessary that our perception have true filters. Good friends, with whom there is no lag in conversation, with whom we tell and show ourselves in true reciprocity, with whom we can trust to "get" us, are such filters. She will jump in to point me to His word and encouragement; she does not hesitate to challenge my thinking; and she prays unceasingly when asked.

It really was the best egg salad ever. Perception and reality.

Oh shoot, I still have a blog...

2011-06-27T12:28:00.000-07:00

sometimes when you haven't written in an eon, you hope that perhaps a fabulous ghost writer has hacked into your dashboard and startled the world with her written words.

Not happening. Still me. No startling at all.

There are, I'm sure, great reasons for not writing. But writing about those would bore me more than you. Ugh. This is life. Seasons in and seasons out and not all seasons allow you words for a blog.

Here is what I can say: we are well, hot, active, learning, growing, tan, enjoying friends, grateful and alive. That list is not prioritized, just there.

I can also tell you about the books I've thrown myself into this summer. My latest great read has been The Mysterious Benedict Society trilogy. LOVED IT! (Yes, it deserved the all caps.) I've also read the Chronicles of the Kings series by Lynn Austin. Having studied Isaiah this past year, it was an interesting set of historical fiction to read through with post-Isaiah thoughts.

The beach found me working through Richard Sibbes' Josiah's Reformation, Elyse Fitzpatrick's Give Them Grace and even a James Patterson novel. Our history curriculum has us in Landing of the Pilgrims; Traitor: Benedict Arnold; Indian Captive: The Story of Mary Jemison and Amos Fortune: Free Man.

My nightstand holds the first two Harry Potter books and Christ-Centered Preaching by Bryan Chapell. One of the boys wants to read the HP books so the agreement is I read through them first so we can discuss them. My Kindle app is full of P.G. Wodehouse favorites, which I always run to for my dose of Brit lit, and The Praying Life by Paul Miller. I also zipped through a Southern chick book titled This Fine Life: A Novel.

Essentially, I'm all over the place these days in reading and living. Busyness though is not always conducive to contentment so remembering to take time every day for thinking through the eternal things of life has had me working through Discovering Jesus in the Old Testament by Nancy Guthrie.

Summer reading. Good stuff. Takes time from blogging. So be it.

Thinking through curriculum....

2011-05-24T06:40:00.000-07:00

in all of its many angles is the primary direction of my days. We are year round homeschoolers for the most part. Certain subjects are practiced every day: Bible, reading and math. If they are using their stomachs, then they are to use their brains.

Trust me, they are using their stomachs.

For the sake of records though, we start on or around June 1st. This year we'll actually start May 30th because starting in the middle of the week grates on my compulsive nerves. Which means that we usually finish our 180 days around the end of February or at least by the middle of March. All things after required attendance revolve around the finishing of curriculum.

With our curriculum fair the first part of May, I then have about two, sometimes three weeks, to plan the next year's schedule. Here are some of the improvements and changes I have noted for our 2011-2012 year.

1) It has taken us two days short of infinity to finish our 7th grade science. The blame rests with me for that one. I like to stagger our subjects and I started our science too late in the year for its depth and requirements. The older two will not really get a break from their science this year, virtually finishing one book and beginning right away the next. Hopefully though, that will mean not so much pushing through to the end.

2) The first year of junior high type classes threw me for a loop. I did not spend enough time previewing the courses last summer before launching us into them. This year I am taking time each day to read through the lesson plans and make some notes about what I need to do for preparation of myself and the boys.

3) The planner options now available to homeschoolers could compose a course in themselves. In past years I have used the free printables off of Donna Young to build my own planners. I still use several of Donna Young's forms. Her resources are truly some of the best if you are starting out and need an idea of where and how to start. Last year I used The Well Planned Day published by Home Educating Family Magazine.

This year I took a more techno plunge and purchased The Old Schoolhouse Planner. I like the idea of being able to save it in multiple files so that the older two can check their assignments and keep up with some of their own records. The sheer breadth of forms that this planner offers really does take over 800 pages. I am not printing all of those pages but do like that I can choose to print what I need as hard copy in my little hands.

4) My older two boys are eighth graders this school year. In Georgia I do not have to keep grades or note credits until high school. However, I know myself and have decided to use their eighth grade year as my practice year for high school. I will start keeping track of these records this year for practice and planning purposes. I want to use this year as my learning curve for next year's requirements.

5) My youngest tends to slide under the radar when he sees my attention so greatly diverted by the older two's more demanding curriculum. Realizing that this year has motivated me to change how I approach both them and him. While I am giving them more freedom with their courses and schedules, I am requiring him to work one on one with me.

Those are some of the changes I am implementing for this year's school year. May 30th is awful close and I do not want the year to be awful. Therefore, recognizing my own weaknesses in how I have planned our schedule or course choices or even am choosing to teach a program is the first step in making the necessary changes for the benefit of our family.

Home education is so much bigger than mere curriculum.

Weekend recap...

2011-05-23T08:43:00.000-07:00

because it is Monday.

Twenty-one years ago this August, a five year old boy determinedly carried a white satin, lace beribboned pillow bearing two wedding bands, tightly sewn on. He somberly marched down the aisle ahead of his older sister bearing rose petals. He refused to smile, perhaps afraid that such jest would distract him from his sober purpose.

Once in place his left white knee high sock began to inch down towards his ankle. This was unacceptable to the fastidious young man. But he would not dare let go the pillow. Thankfully, he remembered his right foot. Painstakingly he used his right foot to push up that blasted left sock. Video evidence implicates the guilty hosiery and foot. The pillow never budged.

My ringbearer was married this past Saturday in Charleston. I gathered there with my parents and sister for the celebration of his wedding. Still just as fastidious and as determined, but this time wreathed in smiles, he took his bride's hand and pledged his life to hers.

Six years ago I was in Charleston for his sister's wedding, another splendid event. There is nothing for counting time than the growing up of those who you have always thought of as children. To see them take their places as adults in sober life roles, marks my own milestones.

Weddings always remind me of my own vows, my own choices in details and thoughts towards doing it differently. A slider bar with fries in tiny silver pails instead of the shrimp ring? To have stayed longer at the reception for visiting and dancing. To have planned a father daughter dance. Not necessarily changes to the essence, only the details that I notice now but did not think through then.

Good grief, we were young marrieds.

The changes in wedding fashion and formality also intrigue me. Black is now acceptable to wear. A six o'clock wedding does not mean a formal sit down dinner. Photo walls with accessories for the guests to dress out in for candid shots is a West coast transplant. Coozies are wedding tokens.

People still dance like Elaine on Seinfeld.

What remains timeless though is the seriousness of those pledges before God and witnesses. All society and culture has attacked the truth and will continue to do so. But for the believer, for the redeemed, those vows and covenant remind us tenderly of how Christ has pledged Himself to His Church. Whom He will never forsake.

Best wishes and much love to the marriage of James and Mary. May God's hand be upon all the days of your lives.

There is only so much....

2011-05-16T13:44:00.000-07:00

algebra that a girl's brain can take. And this girl's brain took all she could in 8th grade. Which was apparently during the medieval ages.

Sheesh. The last four, count them 1-2-3-4 otherwise known as 2x = 4 or 5x-6 = 4, hours of my life were just spent pounding algebra into the brain of my oldest. Whose brain is a great deal more malleable than mine.

Unless of course malleability is determined by the functions of diligence to show your work and accuracy to neat handwriting and attention for detail to focus. There's a set for you, Mrs. Surles.

Anyhoo, I feel a bit giddy at having that part of my purgatorial day over and done. I've locked the boys out of the house until I can gather my thoughts again from the far reaches of the x, y, z graphing slope down which all my brains have slid into one mushy pile.

I am believing with the best of Positive Thinking (otherwise known as the function of Mom's New Curriculum Choice Deniability Clause) that today's angst and pounding are the direct result of changing his math curriculum. In truth, he has taken to it and I have not had to ask him one day yet to do his math. Instead, finding that he is getting up and getting to it on his own.

Yeah, self motivation. Here's the rub. The character traits that have always needed working on still need working on even when there is new and improved self-motivation. The hope being that the self-motivation variable will positively affect said other character traits. Maybe I need to think of today as a review lesson for the both of us. A day to identify the shortcomings quickly and before they become overbearing burdens to us both.

His tendency to overlook the decimals is not that different from mine to overlook the dusting. His penchant to do it in his head instead of writing it down is not that removed from my prayers on the go instead of on the knees.

I think he's learning. I know I am. Home education becomes more about the heart than the head on the best days.

Sometimes writer's block...

2011-05-09T07:22:00.000-07:00

must be conquered by writing. Stream of consciousness if need be. Hold on to your coffee cups, the stream of my consciousness is often more like a Class IV rapids ride.

Attended the Georgia Home Educators Conference this weekend. It was three jam packed days of relaxation, tension and wild excitement. All without a denim jumper. Big scores for the weekend were seeing my teens (hold me tightly) attend the Teen Track and enjoy most of it. I'll take what I can get.

Big score number two was getting to shop early on Thursday night. We bought everything we needed that night so the next two days were spent exploring curriculum choices for the future and finding great deals at the used book fair.

We were able to hear Todd Wilson, funny man with penetrating insights; Ken Ham, Answers in Genesis man unafraid to take a truth stand; and picked up CDs on Voddie Baucham, godly man who challenges families to take truth stands. We also listened to some speakers discuss changes in education and how home educators can prepare their children now for a changing college/job market.

All along we've said that we can only take one year at a time. I'm realizing though with high school on the near cusp, that while we can still switch midstream if necessary, we can not wait to look for the paddles after we are in the boat and downstream. So we are doing prep work now, planning for the homeschooling of high school and prepared to adjust if needed.

Our off time was spent with friends and family. Vitafamiliae showed up and while we all now hate Atlanta traffic, we did finally meet and eat together, laughing our way through much of the night.

For me the best thing about homeschool conferences is the mutual encouragement that comes from such gatherings. Standing in line or eating at a table together or while sitting in a workshop, you are able to hear and discuss with other moms and dads the curriculum, learning styles, learning struggles, time management and general humorous incidents that occur in the journey of home education. Since homeschoolers do not have PTAs, this is the closest we get. And not bad either.

There's the deal. I'll post again later on our curriculum choices.

Date night at the....

2011-04-30T16:30:00.000-07:00

Publix.

Yep. Apparently that's where the happening couple place is these days. After our soccer game--intense, exciting, we won! woo hooo!--I had to come back down to reality and fill the pantry. I asked Husband if he would go with me.

The Chairman was at an all day playdate and the older two were socked from soccer so we left them with the Wii and hit the Publix. For date night. There were no less than a dozen other couples there also with the same idea. And all ages. I was so amused. It was a caravan of husbands pushing shopping carts with wives tossing in the groceries.

Everyone had their own style. Some were all business. Some leisurely strolled through. And some took the divide and conquer approach. Couples even stopped in the aisles to chat with one another.

Our approach is a combination leisure, divide and conquer tactic. All the while, we chat and enjoy one another's company, while moving along the aisles. There are many things that I still cannot bend down for or lift up. Usually the boys are there to help. But Husband was my knight of all sorts this time.

However, I discovered when we got home that Husband had sneaked in some treats. Oatmeal creme pies, banana peppers, baby dill pickles, and mixed nuts. None of which were on the list--which explained the tiny bit higher bill.

Oh well. He was a help. We had fun. He's my best friend. Making it a great date night.

Made like Him, like Him we rise...

2011-04-24T08:19:00.000-07:00

Ours the cross, the grave, the skies. (From Christ the Lord is Risen Today)

This was our last hymn in church today. The last verse of the last hymn. My words caught in my throat as images flashed through my head.

Images of a Savior broken, bruised and bleeding on a cross.
Images of James after his last breath.
Images of Jonathan, of Jay, of Danny, of Nicole, of Ashlyn, of Courtney, of Lydia, and of countless others at whose bedside I have sat as they have died.

Sitting at a bedside of death will make you hate the consequences of sin like none other. It is there where you realize why Jesus wept at Lazarus' tomb. It is there where you realize our utter helplessness to do anything in this world or the next that would save anyone. It is there where everything in you cries out that death is wrong and not what God intended for His children.

Images that are broken. Utterly broken. I know those images too well.

But the key reason that my words stopped, that my breath caught, that my eyes stung and tears streamed is because of the phrase, "Like Him we rise..." This is the image I do not know yet. It is the image to which everything of hoping in Christ in me strains to know. Now by faith, then by reality.

This is why Resurrection Sunday is so precious to me. Because I know that every hymn declares why I believe. Every Scripture proclaims why He came. Every preached word of truth reminds that because He is risen, because He has conquered death, because He lives today, I will too, no matter how physical death takes me.

And no matter how physical death took James, Jonathan, Jay, Danny, Nicole, Ashlyn, Courtney or Lydia. No matter. Those lives where broken image has left those of us behind reeling for the sight of death consequence, those lives will rise again in glorified reality for resurrection truth.

Ours the cross, the grave, the skies.

"Now if we died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with Him." Romans 6:8
"For as in Adam all die, so in Christ, all will be made alive." 1 Corinthians 15:22

We have hope because He is risen. He is risen, indeed.

Oh, the catching up...

2011-04-20T11:47:00.000-07:00

is upon me. It's time to bullet the events of the last several so that I don't forget.

1. Becky Pliego of Daily On My Way to Heaven has graciously sponsored an event called Doctrines in the Kitchen. I love the title. I love the theme. I love the focus of it all. How doctrine should effect God's best in the lives of His people. Now that's what I'm talking about. Several bloggers you may already read have been featured and to catch all of the posts, make sure you click on the Doctrines in the Kitchen button.

I submitted a post to Becky a while back and it is up today talking about my favorite doctrine: the Sovereignty of God.

2. The sovereignty of God was loudly displayed in my life this weekend as some plans were tossed when a tornado hit nearby, necessitating a change of Saturday plans, and a stomach bug hit two out of three of the boys, as some meals were tossed. No biggie. God showed His sweetness to us in how friends stepped in, how needs were met and how boys once old enough can even clean up after themselves and their tossing.

3. Sunday rest took on a whole new meaning as everyone quietly, gently and restoratively recovered from Saturday. Since we decided not to bless our church family with our bug and potential for bug, we stayed at home and listened to a great message by Cameron Mbewe from the recent Gospel Coalition conference. His encouragement to us regarding the Righteous Branch of Jesus Christ was a perfect prescriptive.

4. Monday, Tuesday and today have all blessedly been "normal," or as normal as these people around here can get to. One of my favorite sayings is from Barbara Johnson, "Normal is just a setting on your dryer." I agree.

5. The coming days are promising busy with a capital "B," but I'm eager to see yet again how God will work out a multitude of details.

The covenantal relationships....

2011-04-11T14:51:00.000-07:00

designed by God for His people continually amaze and delight my understanding of how the Lord of all things redeems history. For the sake of His people is not God's buzzword. For the sake of His people is His active work in all events.

In studying Isaiah this year, God's covenantal relationship to Israel has been described more than once. I remember some years ago being surprised to read that "Gentiles" was also an Old Testament word. Taking rest in the truth that God has always had a wide purpose in His sovereign election, I was reminded personally how that looks in my life.

Yesterday my three sons became communing members of our church. Husband can look to the promise and recognize his three sons as part of the sixth generation of believers. I can't look that far back into my closet. The beauty being that I do not have to.

God adopted me into His heavenly kingdom and He has given His promise that, "My Spirit, who is on you, and my words that I have put in your mouth will not depart from your mouth, or from the mouths of your children, or from the mouths of their descendants from this time on and forever," (Isa. 59:21).

I saw that happen yesterday and my heart greatly rejoiced. I have pondered these things in my heart and tasted of their treasure. For the boys, having confessed and been examined to be covenant keepers, shared in His supper. If not for decorum, there would have been a very loud "Woo Hoo!" from the back.

In peace and for the glory of His Name, I look to the One who has given His covenant, and know myself and my family to be greatly blessed.

Yesterday he turned ten....

2011-04-08T14:32:00.000-07:00

and here is the rest of his story.

The medical plan was to go to the high risk OB at 16 weeks and do an ultrasound to confirm gender. If this baby was a girl, we would high five it and go home to do all pink. If this baby was a boy, we would do an immediate amniocentesis and send the results to the NIH where a researcher who had mapped our family's DNA could tell us in 2 weeks conclusively whether or not he was affected.

Husband went with me and both of us were mantra speaking those girl names. The ultrasound tech began her work. She asked us why we were in there and when I told her that we were hoping the baby was a girl, she turned back to the screen and said, "Oh, this baby is definitely a boy." Husband who is partially deaf in one ear heard those words like a gunshot. I heard them like the dropping of another shoe.

Silence reigned in that room as the tech left us to our thoughts, and tears. Husband took my hand tenderly and said, "But that's our boy. That is still our boy, and he needs a name, so what do you think?" We began to call out names and think together that whatever God had given needed to be received with trust. No matter how small that trust was.

We wanted a Biblical name and a family name. The Lord gave one to me almost immediately, "Samuel." With all of our boys' names, it has been the meaning behind them that has been part of the testimony of God. I know now that each name was yet another way that the Lord continued to draw me back towards Himself in restoration. Our oldest three all have a name that means some version of "gift of God." But I was pretty sure that "Samuel" did not mean that. All I could think of, lying on that cold table, was that perhaps the name had something to do with being a prophet of God.

The amnio occurred. We completed the paperwork and watched our future get mailed off as the two week waiting game began. Those may have been the hardest two weeks of my life apart from the last two weeks of James' life.

That year I was in a Bible study on Matthew where the significant point that kept coming through the lessons was that there is a cost in following Christ. Um, duh, was my first response. I was already resigned to the idea that God intended suffering for us. I figured that having a second son with SCIDs was the next step in that plan.

However, it was a hymn that began to challenge my small trust: Be Thou My Vision. We sang it often that year. And the verse that kept tugging at my heart was, "High King of heaven, after victory won, May I reach heaven's joys, O bright heaven's Sun! Heart of my own heart, whatever befall, Still be my Vision, O Ruler of all."

See the year before I had studied Romans where I had begun for the first time ever to understand the doctrine of God's sovereignty. I had been absolutely confronted with God's right to choose a purpose for His creation. Learning that He chose with eternity in view, with the work of Christ in view and with His glory and the good of His people in view, were all new truths in my life. I wanted a God that existed for my benefit alone--to give me whatever I wanted. Like the Great Big Candyman in the Sky. Seeing that everything God did was of glorious sovereignty borne out of amazing love in the Person of Christ had been the beginning of a deep seated healing in my heart.

So here I was for two weeks hearing nothing but this hymn verse in my mind and knowing with a new surrendered spirit that my victory, won by Christ, was enough, truly enough. No matter what else happened in this life, God sweetly removed the resignation from my heart and gave me His peace. I was for the first time ever, able to say thank you for James' life AND for his death. With the next whisper being, thank you for this baby's life, no matter what. The temporal finally eclipsed by the eternal.

I still desperately wanted for this baby, this son, to be well. But I was finally assured that whatever the Lord had chosen would be His great and mighty gift. A real gift, not an almost gift. I was giddy with this realization while at the same time tuned up and puckered while waiting for the results.

The call came from the NIH: "Your son is perfectly healthy. He does not have the genetic defect for x-linked SCIDs."

Husband was home that day and I started screaming and crying for him to come, to hear the news. The tears flowed as we barely could choke out the words to family and friends all waiting to hear. Our hearts rejoiced, our gratefulness was uncontained. And then I remembered that I had not looked up the name, "Samuel."

Samuel means, "God heard," "requested of God," or "God's heart." All three meanings spoke deep into my own heart as the hymn verse echoed, "Heart of my own heart, whatever befall;" the prayer of my new understanding for His sovereignty in my life to fully reign, "Still be my Vision, Ruler of all."

God showed Himself bigger than anything I'd been willing to ask. And deep humility thumped inside my life as I realized that I had prayed no differently for this baby than for James. The answer came from the same loving, almighty, precious Lord. He who had not been capricious in His choices for James was not being capricious in His choice for this child. He was absolutely trustworthy because He is absolutely intentional towards His people, because He is Lord.

So that's the story of the Chairman. What I had been afraid to ask of God, He was never miserly to give. He didn't have to give me another pregnancy. He didn't have to give me a healthy son. He chose to do both.

That baby is now ten. And every year I am given to remember that God has heard me. God has given me all I couldn't and wouldn't request (the Savior being the greatest of such gifts!). God has shown me His heart.

Be Thou my vision, Lord. The Ruler of all.

Today he is 10...

2011-04-07T12:56:00.000-07:00

years old. Ouch.

It's double digits from here on out for this guy. The Chairman. The son I never thought that God would allow me to bear. About 2 years after James died, I was asked by a researcher who was studying the effect of X-linked SCIDs (Severe Combined Immunodeficiency) in families. Specifically she was interested in the long term effects of chronic grief experienced by families who were affected with multiple diagnoses.

In other words, this was my family that she was interested in interviewing. I do not remember many of the specific questions. I do however, remember one of the last questions that she asked me. She wanted to know what I would consider the one thing that would be most significant in my emotional healing.

I told her that I wanted to be able to bear a healthy son, but that I did not think that was ever possible because to us a 50/50 chance was not one we were willing to take. I told her that I did not believe that God would ever allow us to have that son and we were not willing to attempt another pregnancy. We had decided to build our family through adoption. Period.

Chess at that time was almost 2 years old. Between his first and third birthdays we experienced three failed adoption attempts. My view of the Lord was that suffering was His designated plan for our lives. I did not believe that goodness from Him meant an answer to my specific heart desires. He had become a big God only for other people.

Pele came home to us in May 2000, on Mother's Day. I was blessed and knew it. If even reluctantly so. God had shown His hand on our behalf. But I was not willing to think that I should ask for anything more. So I settled down into being the mom of two little boys under three years old. I was busy, for sure.

The end of July 2000 we took a trip to my mother-in-law's house. Husband's birthday is that weekend and it was a time of celebration. But my heart was heavy because I suspected that the secondary infertility I had been previously diagnosed with was perhaps about to surprise us. I had found out that I was pregnant with James on Husband's birthday 6 years previously. It was a deja vu that did not give right goosebumps.

When we got home I told Husband that I was afraid I was pregnant. And I really meant the afraid part because 50/50 and my view of how God would choose to deal with us equaled certain sorrow. Husband was obviously upset as well. I told him I would test in the morning.

That night was filled with hard dreams full of hurt: a call from the hospital to come and get James. A desperate running through hospital hallways asking everyone where was my son? The astonished and sad looks on faces that only confirmed again that he had died.

I woke up with tears on my face. And I walked into the bathroom to confirm at that point what I knew was true. Two lines that should have delighted, broke my heart again.

When I told Husband, he hugged me tightly and said we would trust God. My trust was so very small. I contacted the OB/Gyn and explained our situation. The next several months were full of a tenuous balance of rising joy that a child was a blessing no matter what and that sufferings still can and still do accompany blessings. Multiple hospital and blood tests were also required for our circumstances, yet more reminders that this child, this pregnancy was different.

Our goal was that this baby was to be a girl. A girl ran the 50/50 chance of being a carrier, not of being affected with SCIDs. To accomplish that I looked only at girl clothes and we picked out only girl names. Remember, my trust was not very big.

God, however, is big and He had planned to show the me of little faith just how big of faithfulness He is.

To be continued....

To feed a horse....

2011-04-05T15:59:00.000-07:00

or how I became involved with a food co-op.

Recent changes in this household of boys becoming men, of leftovers becoming nonexistent and of all living things being wary of being eaten if sedentary for any length of time, have necessitated a change in how I cook. I'm cooking for survival of the growing which involves cooking for a healthy filling up of the growing.

But that's not all the reason for such a switch. Another one being that a good friend of mine, having done the research I was avoiding, began to feed (metaphorically and literally) me some of the fruits of her labors. Namely on the significant health benefits of high fiber and non genetically engineered food products.

"Veddy inter-rest-ing and tasty," I thought. "But I do not have time for such endeavors. I will stick with my choices and coupons and buy one, get one freebies and muddle through."

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the great abyss into which food disappeared began to grow. Taller than me. So, regrouping had to continue.

I asked said friend to go easy on me with the baby steps of change. I began with a switch to whole milk which led to coconut oil which led to hard wheat berries which led to soft wheat berries which led to making my own granola and yogurt and granola bars which led to yesterday's adventure where I found myself measuring out 18 pounds of corn grits or 12 pounds of regular organic oats or 9 pounds of wheat germ.

It was almost more math than this girl can handle. I soothed myself during the math and scale watching with the fact that the great abyss was making himself useful with the lifting and moving of 50 pound bags of various sundries.

I did not come home entirely ready to feed the horses. I am still a baby stepper. However, we have all benefited from the changes of less processed foods, and I'll keep going down this path with my corn grits and oats and wheat berries. Eventually I'll graduate to sucanat and agave nectar and the like because the abyss and his brothers behind are definitely not getting smaller. I figure such growing bodies need the best nutrition I can give them. So this is where I'm starting.

The bandwagon beckons...

2011-04-04T11:17:00.000-07:00

or it is that time for Status Reports. Brought to you by the letter "L" as in Lisa Writes.

Sitting.....not, but lying down and typing this. My back still requires a bit of babying in the off and on but especially after a long weekend in the car of driving. But hey, our soccer team won!

Drinking...not anything right now. We only finished lunch a bit ago and we are out of coffee. Emergency trip to the grocery store is on the schedule.

Reading....several things right now and most of them have to do with homeschooling high school. Also reading The Return of the King, aloud, to the boys for our literature study, commentaries on Isaiah, and Love and Friendship by Jane Austen.

Pondering....the many glorious benefits purchased by Christ for my salvation and how these benefits have gladly changed my life.

Pondering....even more so how they should continue to change my life as practically applied in sanctification.

Looking.....forward to my first food co-op run. Bags of oats and wheat and stuff will fill this house by evening. Good thing the boys have muscles. They will be lifting what will be the foundation of their diets over the next several months.

Knowing.....that the next few weeks of finishing Bible study and curriculum will fly like nobody's business.

Wondering....if I'm ready for the previous.

Determining.....that whether or not I'm ready, God is able. So I will be....

Looking.....for His grace in several events and.....

Trusting......how He chooses to display His marvelous works.

Four hours old.....

2011-04-03T03:29:00.000-07:00

seventeen years ago and I was still gazing at you. Birth was amazing. No drugs, no pain. How did it happen? Sheer thrill at seeing you born and watching transformation of skin, hearing your wail and knowing your life now new and promising.

Nurses exclaimed over your size, your hair, your vigor. Your Daddy beamed. No man could have rejoiced more in his firstborn son. Exhausted and invigorated, I patiently waited as they cleaned you and measured, noted statistics and finally, finally, they brought you back.

I held you. It was a Sunday morning then too. We knew our own sense of worship that day. Ascribing worth to the Lord who had formed you and graciously given. His love knows no bounds. Neither did ours that day.

These were the golden hours. Your eyes so dark, no pupil, no iris, just black pools. Your hair full, fully black and fuzzy. If you had been a girl, we could have placed two bows. Outward perfection in numbers of toes and fingers, in framing of face.

No way for us to have known your future in these hours.

You were nine full pounds of contented life. The fullness in my heart, the layers of gratitude I knew for your safe birth, your health, your potential--your death can never erase those truths. Grief would make these hours bitter remembrances. Why didn't God give a hint in these hours to watch?

But when God gives healing for grief, there is a second gratitude that remembers what was and no longer regrets. Peace for those He draws near.

Seventeen years. I am full these days of thoughts and research and planning for your brothers. Their high school years approach too quickly. A day like today causes me pause because I think that you would be nearly done. These things that are firsts for your brothers would be nearly lasts for you. I would have some confidence in how these years have gone. Maybe. I would at least have some idea.

Instead, you are seventeen only in years passed. Not reality, not for a day of celebration.

A day of remembrance. And in that the Lord gives peace again.

Seventeen years.

Blessed be the Name of the Lord.

Time with friends and....

2011-04-02T15:52:00.000-07:00

now time alone for reflection.

Dear friends from Arkansas made their way to our house for a quick B & B. These friends are like the boys' local (not so much anymore) aunt and uncle. They used to live here but career moved them away. I grew up moving around and there was more than one time that I resented how moving impacted friendships. As an adult, I can look back and think of how it jump started a heart for adaptation and flexibility.

Something I needed when my first of many "nevers" happened; as in, I'll never marry anyone in the military and I'll never move around a lot. Umm, yes you will it seems. God listens to those "nevers" and is Never afraid to have you live them if part of your sanctification process. It's a reverse manner, I believe, of not being careful for what you prayed.

So oddly enough, here we are, still, in Georgia, the longest single place we have ever lived. The itch to move has been mine more than once, but the Lord has us planted. For now. And getting used to the idea that others move in and out of our lives is still part of keeping that heart for adaptation and flexibility in use.

Which is why when solid friendships are formed, those friendships endure a move. For that solidity, this week especially, I was thankful. Laughter renewed, old jokes retold with new inflection, old habits appreciated and new adventures for sharing. Time together, because rare, is a gift.

Spring break for....

2011-03-29T16:00:00.000-07:00

homeschoolers is a weird thing as regards scheduling. Basically, you take a spring break whenever you want. Some families try to match with a local school system schedule while others try to avoid that scenario at all cost. This year with Easter falling so late into April, even the school systems seem to be confused as to when is the best time to take the break.

We chose this week because it worked out with the Bible study schedule I teach. The boys initially were all excited about the break thinking that it meant no lessons at all and sleeping in until noon.

Um, hi. I'm your mom. Have you met me, yet?

I have redone the breakfast time to afford them some sleeping in and I told them that their school work would be only clean up type stuff, a field trip and some review work. Yesterday's first task was to clean out the school boxes into the usual three piles: save for next year, recycle and sell at the used books sale. I was pleasantly surprised to see all that was accomplished and other items still available for next year (which translates into saved pennies at the upcoming convention).

Today's task was a quarterly science test for the older two, which means that the end of general science is in sight. While those two were working on their test, I flew through 16 lessons of math with the youngest, testing his concept mastery and noting which items still need review.

That may be my most favorite thing about homeschooling--the ability to concentrate the learning and not spend repetition on concepts already understood. Huge savings all around in both time and money, not to mention frustration. Interested students make better learners than bored students.

Tomorrow involves a field trip with friends and the end of the week will probably be rounded out with some play dates for the boys, school planning for me and a visit from dear friends. Our homeschool convention is around the corner and nothing makes me happier than to have the lists together and ready.

I guess you could say that our spring break is a staycation type. We're good with that. Learning to take a breather from the regular is restive. The week doesn't have to involve travel to be interesting nor great expense to be enjoyable. We chose homeschooling to get our family out of the rat race. I suppose spring break should also reflect those choices.

What does your family choose for spring break?

It is the pollen's fault....

2011-03-23T02:38:00.000-07:00

is my story.

The last two days my internet has been spotty. As in connecting long enough for me to see the 10 emails that require a response but disconnecting as I click send the reply. I am not a fan of the beach ball or the swirling sundial or the messages that follow those icons.

Very frustrating. On two levels. One, that my internet upon which I depend is not working like I need it to work. Two, that I am so dependent upon the internet. What happened to the phone?

Well, the last two days our phone handset has not charged properly in the base so if the phone rings, the call goes straight to message and you cannot call out on the phone because of the low battery.

So what about the cell phone? Well, in most cases that is what I have used except for the calls where the caller didn't leave her number and I didn't have her number or the internet to look up the number. Do you see how my dominoes have fallen?

Into a big pile of greenish yellow pollen. I'm blaming it all on the pollen. It's messing with my head, my eyes, my nose and now my internet.

That's where I've been the last two days. How about you?

You never know who will....

2011-03-21T11:19:00.000-07:00

be at the front door.

When my sister and I were young and silly, one night Daddy was especially sleepy after supper. He started asking my mom if she had put a sleeping pill in his food because he couldn't stay awake. My sister and I picked up on this teasing and began to tell Daddy that Mom had done so because her boyfriend was coming over any minute. Our house was a laughing place and we all had a pretty good chuckle about this idea.

A) That Mom had drugged Dad and B) that Mom had a boyfriend on the way over to the house.

And then the doorbell rang. You should have seen the horror on my sister's face as well as mine. We were probably about 6 and 10 years old and the thought that our teasing held any truth was appalling.

Dad and Mom burst out laughing, looking at us, and Dad went to get the door. When he opened the door he began to laugh harder because it was a man. Our neighbor, without his toupee, was standing there. At this point I believe my sister began to tear up and Mom quickly comforted her that this man was not her boyfriend.

The neighbor did not know at all what was going on and may have unfortunately thought that he was the punchline of a joke. Because of that toupee thing. I don't know. But it was the last time we ever teased about Mom having a boyfriend.

Last night we were trying to instant stream on Netflix The Two Towers. Which is not available for instant streaming. I told the boys that I would have to add it to our queue and wait for it to come. The Chairman wasn't truly content with this idea. I told him that clicking "Add" did not mean that Netflix would get the request and ring the doorbell.

Guess what happened?

I clicked "Add" and within a few minutes, the doorbell did ring. The Chairman crowed, "Hey Mom, I think it worked!"

It was a friend there to pick up his son's left here by mistake toys from a previous playdate. We settled for watching Home Alone 3 but all I could think of is, you never know who will be at your front door.

You think I've given....

2011-03-19T19:53:00.000-07:00

Up blogging for Lent. Don't you?

Nope. Just trying to keep living busyness at a dull roar. Everyone is well. And growing. The height count for last week was 5'6", 5'4", and 4'3". Publix loves to see me walk in the door.

We finished our school attendance requirements so now we finish the curriculum and plan for next year. That has soaked up a good bit of my free time recently. I have decided to practice high school for their eighth grade year in transitional stages so we do not all lose our minds at actual high school.

That sentence sounded great in my head but do not ask me to 'splain it now.

Enjoying the 12 days of Spring and now preparing for the 322 days of summer. Seeing everything that doesn't fit the boys brings nostalgia in like a steamroller. Yesterday they were all wearing overalls so I could heft them up by their back straps to keep them out of danger and mischief and mischievous danger. Hefting them anywhere now would cause another back surgery.

I am about to end another year of Bible teaching. This year of Isaiah has been incredible. Nothing like it. The Lord has been amazing as always. Summer break is always needed but I do miss the regularity of teaching weeks.

Which is why I'm dipping my hand again into some more whole foods type things. Our experiment today was to modify the PW cinnamon rolls a bit. I met with a friend to turn her kitchen into the Cinnabon factory. I had to leave for a fish fry before the final results but last I heard she was running the kids off before they ate every one. I'll get my taste later.

And that would be the news. For now. Maybe I'll blog again before March close. And then again, maybe not.

Cheers!

Granola, continued....

2011-03-08T17:41:00.000-08:00

is still a bit of a mess. Not clumping together like I want it to. I want store bought looking granola. What I've created in reality, not metaphor, is a plastic container full of bird seed reject. I don't think even the squirrels would risk a lead vitamin to go after this.

I eat it anyway in my Greek yogurt with a smear of honey. It may not look pretty but a couple of craisins will go a long way toward tastiness.

Jules is chewing my comment box for my poor metaphor. That's okay. We can not all be Gifted Ones.

However, it's not a bad comparison as to how this Monday has transpired. I mean, Tuesday. That is today, right?

See what I mean?

I could blame it on the drugs. Listen carefully. Some dietary changes I've made recently have caused a weight loss. Yeah. But my body has not quite adjusted to the "nerve pill" dosages. I love saying "nerve pill". I grew up hearing my South Georgia aunts tell each other they needed a "nerve pill" because of the "chillen" (children) driving them batty.

Still makes me giggle.

Seriously though, I'm on a real "nerve pill" to help with the after effects of having a nerve root in my spine severely compressed. While all that compression is now relieved, thank you, Mr. Doctor Neurosurgeon, that particular nerve root is still more than a bit irritated and having your leg feel like it's brushed up against an electric fence 91 times a day isn't all that pleasant. (There's a simile for you, Jules)

So I've chosen the "nerve pill" option. And my "chillen" still can drive me batty.

Like they did this morning. I think that's where this story was leading. In an Atlanta to New York through Malaysia sort of manner.

The alarm went off at 5:00 a.m. but I didn't haul any part of me out of the bed. It was cold. Instead I snuggled right down where the sun was not shining and tempted myself with another 22 minutes or so of sleep. And then for some reason Husband and I began to discuss the boys' high school transcripts. Which led to discussing college choices.

They are finishing 7th grade. Blame it on sleep deprivation. Or not getting up at 5:00 a.m. when I should have. But not the "nerve pill" this time. I hadn't had my morning dose.

Through the shower, the getting ready and the dressing of the day, the discussion continued. Inadequacies reigned, dispute arose, was quelled, feelings soothed, unity re-established, word pictures flying. You know, just the regular ole' Tuesday morning before 6:30 a.m. discussion between Husband and Wife.

And then I woke up the boys. Who didn't want to get out of bed either. Chores, breakfast, some chores redone, breakfast clean up and then getting school organized on the board and on the work table and answering math questions and explaining a science assignment and telling Son to leave the typing program alone and setting up the video and printing off maps of Scandinavia and Europe and explaining the math again.

Sheesh. Bed was looking better and better. But responsibility called although lack of focus loomed. In the garage I was greeted by the cold hard facts that leaving an interior dome light on all night will murder a battery. Guilty as charged.

Husband took me to my meeting where I kept trying to keep the train on the rails. (Look, another metaphor!)

Anyone still reading?

So, the wrap up is: my life right now is still unclumped granola. The individual pieces are good, but I want them to stick together better.

Which is why there is Wednesday, right? To try again and use more honey.

Metaphors, mwahaahaahaa.

Granola that will not clump....

2011-03-02T13:31:00.000-08:00

is sometimes the picture of my life. Maybe I stir too often and do not allow it proper clumpifying time? The ingredients are all there. Properly. In right proportion even. Added in order. Without drama. Mostly.

Except for the occasional add in that gets tossed in. Sounded fun at the time. End results though do not show a bite size beautifully clumped granola. Instead, the tiniest pieces do not complement, but choose to annoy, sticking in my teeth like sand.

The largest pieces of pecans, almonds, and craisins stand out, glaring at me, for they do not have any morsels attached to them in sweet asymmetry. There is no crunch in a bite missing variety.

Practice, attention to details and trust that clumped granola will happen. Adjustments here, there, as needed. Counsel of other granola making friends. Research, tinkering, desire to put the pieces together rightly.

End results will occur giving a bite of satisfaction. The picture of my life will be asymmetrical, beautifully clumped together granola.

Days of yesterday...

2011-03-01T06:45:00.000-08:00

remind me of the mountain that man could not touch. The holiness of God separated from us because of our murmuring.

The boys seemed to have inhaled the malaise of Monday. My plea for gentle caring dissolved into battle after battle to keep focus. On school, on chores, on tasks. Forgotten was the truth that what we deserve and what we receive are the east from the west.

So I preached the gospel to them. In loud tones, yes, but in tones of great entreaty that they would listen and hear, that they would remember and consider. Not one of us deserved the things they were complaining about receiving in abundance. The trash yawned to receive their cast off.

I preached the news that our faithlessness did not send Jesus to the cross but His faithfulness did. They listened differently. Shuttered eyes flew open at the thought that He is larger and greater. Not a new message but one newly received on a Monday of malaise.

A meal they did not want placed in front of them now gratefully consumed. For His choice to love us because He chose to love us was in their chewing. A reminder that strength to do and to live is in His generosity was swallowed down silently.

Sweetness returned. Focus resumed. Malaise now gone. The mountain brought near through a reconciling Jesus.

The starter pistol....

2011-02-28T05:34:00.000-08:00

sounded off at 5:00 a.m. and I wearily dragged my bones out of bed. Downstairs was quiet except for the cats' vain hope that I would feed them an hour and a half early. They prowled around with infinite expectation. Smashed again as I ignored them.

An hour spent thinking, praying, reading and remembering. Fixing things in my mind with the end result that day after day I am shown inadequate. Taking things into my heart with the sweet gift that day after day He is more than adequate. Praying He would unite heart and mind beyond feeling, beyond the vague and plant feet into practice, hands into service.

Six a.m. seemed the right time to slip back into bed beside warm Husband. He was gone this past weekend on a fishing trip. Spoons reunited. Both of us too drowsy and too uncaring to set the alarm again.

Next waking from insistent cats and bedroom window light. I think I heard the school bus beeping at 6:35 a.m. I always feel sorry for the little girls next door. Sorrier for the Mom.

Finally, finally, finally. Time's insistence that Monday was here became too loud. Up and at'em is the rally call, but let's tread softly and tenderly with one another today is the reality.

Monday, Monday. You're here. I'm out of bed. Please be gentle with us.

Hot topics at the house...

2011-02-27T13:47:00.000-08:00

these days, for the boys, includes The Two Towers. Namely, how long will it take me (Mom) to read through it before they can watch the movie. We read, discussed and viewed Fellowship of the Ring in January/February.

To which I reply: I'm working on it. Work with me. Target is end of March.

Second hot topic is how many more days do we have of school? My boys ask this question because we start in June and they know that February/March means the end of counting days is near. Not that they are sending in those attendance reports, mind you.

What they conveniently forget is that the end of curriculum is still required and usually, not always, but in some subjects, takes us through April.

Third hot topic for them is their latest Lego movie project. This has become such a big area of interest for them that I'm considering making it an official piece of their curriculum. I know this can be done but I'm investigating more of the particular "how" of the task.

Which leads me to the adults' hot topic. The wheres and hows of homeschooling high schoolers. And with that the development of transcripts and individual learning tracks.

The older two will only be eighth graders this June, but I already sense the pressure of the coming years. And I'm not just talking about the rising cost of groceries for these guys. Husband and I are seriously discussing what our lives will and must look like to be able to provide an excellent high school education. The task is an overwhelming thought at times.

But I know that our Lord specializes in neutralizing overwhelming circumstances. I am heavily depending upon that truth. Added to the facts of our research for homeschooling high schoolers, I am encouraged by the number of choices and resources that exist today.

For us, the thought process must begin now and not so much in the "we'll decide in the summer" realm.

I'd love to hear from any readers that are all ready homeschooling high schoolers as to things we should be considering. I'll be writing these out as they percolate through my brain.

In a galaxy far, far away....

2011-02-24T13:59:00.000-08:00

there was this blog. And a writer. Who used to write. And to whom life happened.

Here's the highlights:

1) Attended a wonderful leadership retreat where the teaching was tops and the fellowship every form of fun. Whether it was the line waiting for the elevators or the line at the ladies' restroom, there was reason to smile and rejoice in viewing all that God is doing through the thorough study of His Word.

2) At the same retreat, on both the front end and the back end, I got to spend a sweet time with a friend. We laughed till the tears squeezed out of our eyes and there may have been some snorting involved. I can neither confirm nor deny. Earth Fare smoothies were involved and a sighting of Andie McDowell as well. I'll Groundhog Day that weekend again anytime. My ribs still hurt. Contentedly.

3) Made it back home to mountains of laundry but four really happy guys who held their own, held the house and held a party that did not involve eating the contents of the refrigerator.

4) Cleaned out the refrigerator. See #3.

5) Went grocery shopping. See #4.

6) Attended homeschool co-op. Continued with finishing up of curriculum. We are within days of our 180 days. WooT!

7) Caught a cold. Currently fighting it. Not related to #6. This is like a summer cold in February. Does that make sense? It does when February means 70 degree temps.

8) Making plans for Pioneer Woman's Cinnamon Rolls Baking Bonanza Day. Go away #7 so I can fully participate.

9) Making this list to keep the blog active.

10) Tossing in my own thankful note (Hat Tip to Thankful Thursday posters) for sustaining friendships and women who love the Word of God most of all.

After this morning's....

2011-02-05T13:03:00.000-08:00

basketball game we had to drive over to Sam'* Club to pick up super large packages of stuff. What were we thinking?

Not that tomorrow is Super Bowl Sunday. That's for sure. Because if we had thought about that, then we would have realized that most of Middle Georgia was also going to be at the Club to pick up super large packages of stuff.

Stuffmart for sure, Madame Blueberry.

The lines were long. The carts piled high. The noise level higher. Added to the general commotion was the fact that 80% of the people were there to eat lunch out of the sample stations which seem to have sprung up at every corner of an aisle. Sometimes two to an aisle.

It was wild.

And fun I admit. After the months of imposed bedrest and in home dormancy, the chance to get out amongst the people is a refreshing activity. I found myself not annoyed but really amused at the antics of those who find it necessary to stand in line for 1/4 of a chicken wing. Eleven times.

We are a strange people.

Our cart lugged itself out of the Club fairly intact and all boys still with us. That's both a successful and entertaining trip.

Thankful Thursday...

2011-02-03T10:59:00.000-08:00

the first one of February.

In the past, I've given February a bad name. The blahs and the winter blues seem to exceed themselves in ability to drag one down in the month of February. For the shortest month ever, the days of February can drag like the boys do when tasked with cleaning out the compost bucket.

I've decided to give February a clean slate. Your welcome, Febbie. I've thought it over and realized that approaching you this year means thinking on the positives, not in a Norman Vincent Peale sort of manner, but in the mode that defines a Thankful Thursday post.

So, Febbie, for your first Thursday, I am thankful for a quick and easy and great news doctor's appointment this morning.
I am thankful for a meal made by a neighbor this week that has supplied yummy leftovers the past couple of days.
I am thankful for plans with a girl's night out for tomorrow.
I am thankful for a ladies' retreat this month. I may even start packing today I'm so excited about going.
I am thankful for the opportunity to run errands today with the boys' help. Their growing muscles may take a lot of food to grow but in the shopping parts of the week, they certainly come in handy.

That's it for today, Febs. We'll see what good things you hold in store for us next week.

February, how art thou?....

2011-02-02T11:27:00.000-08:00

Let me count the ways in a status report meme. Again, thanks to Lisa Writes.

Lying....down in the hospital bed. I'm almost to the 3 month mark which is when the bed goes away and the den can return to looking like a den and not so much like a convalescent home. Around 2:00 p.m. I try to lie down for a couple of hours so that I can get back up in second wind for evening activities.

Chewing....some weird bubble gum. Confiscated it out of a goodie bag belonging to a child of mine with sealants on his teeth. Although I'm regretting the decision about now.

Drinking.....water. To clear the funky bubble gum taste out of my mouth.

Listening......to the sounds of three boys playing basketball. Their father introduced them to the wonders of A Game Called Pig. And that's all we've heard since.

Pondering.....anew what the Almighty can do. His vastness, transcendence, immutability, holiness, glory. My Bible lesson today was on Isaiah 40:12-31. He knows each star by name and calls them to obey.

Reading.....the Debra Bell books on homeschooling. Good stuff right there whether you are new or veteran to homeschooling, the information and resources are recharging me where I feel weary and inspiring me where I felt empty.

Planning......an upcoming birthday party for an almost thirteen year old. There will now be two of them in this house. Thirteen year olds. Send sanity. Or chocolate.

Working.....on several different projects. Bible study. Decluttering. Writing. Menu planning. House re-arranging. Yogurt making. The -ings have it in keeping me busy these days.

Recovering.....from back surgery still pretty steadily. Grateful for every day that brings new physical strength.

Ending.....this status report because I'm out of things to say.

The smack of the...

2011-01-31T07:56:00.000-08:00

basketball on wet pavement interrupts my thinking. The sheer number of things to do today derails me like a train with too many cars to pull.

I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.

Cold, whole wheat pancake smeared with Nutella to restart my thinking, to renew the second, no third, maybe even third and a half wind.

Interruptions not really, just the rhythm of living this life among boys with questions, yearning to be young men. Amongst phone calls ignored, praise the Lord for voicemail. Amongst personal disciplines of self when the tweet sounds off.

Thinking much on how life drains but the Lord renews. Experiencing such vignettes in these moments.

Life named Monday.

A struggle within him...

2011-01-30T13:20:00.000-08:00

to choose rightly. A birthday gift. A daily task. A meal from the restaurant menu. The struggle at times involves us all. And we sweat.

A debate within him over the consequences of his choices. Blessings. Rewards. Isolation. Restrictions. Clearly a struggle that entangles this mom. Battling my own choices and consequences.

A finite tug of war that began in a Garden and continues into my backyard. If it were only a tree I could cut down. Okay, have Husband cut down and we were done with it. Not so. A very real mud pit sits underneath the rope's knot. The red clay stains my carpet, his hands, our shoes, the pavement.

Eternal perspective reassures that not always will this be the struggle. The presence of sin is limited. As limited as its father.

Until then. The struggle, the debate, the tug of war wearies and drains strength. Puberty with deodorant still stinks.

My hope today? In this presence, in his presence, is in His Presence.

Comfort, comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that her warfare is ended, that her iniquity is pardoned, that she has received from the Lord's hand double for all her sins.....He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength...but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint. Isaiah 40:1, 29, 31

An ongoing discussion....

2011-01-26T19:10:00.000-08:00

in our household concerns who left out the syrup. Or the pickles. Or the butter. Or insert your food of choice here. I am often called in as the negotiator for those who eat in this house to answer the question who should put away the syrup, pickles and butter.

What will bring quickening wrath to the table is when any boy declares that he did not use said syrup, pickles or butter as his reason for not being responsible to put the item away. To which I reply, "I don't eat syrup, pickles or butter so perhaps I should not buy them anymore."

Making the point that putting away the table things is not on a you use it, you bus it work ethic. If that were the case then moms all over the nation could rejoice with the ever growing list of things we no longer have to do. Think about it.

I do not wear boxers. So therefore I will not wash them.
I do not wear camouflage pants. So therefore I will not mend their buttons.
I do not play the Wii. So therefore I will not make sure the games are easily found within their cases.
I do not eat tacos. So therefore I will not buy the ingredients or spend the time making them.
I do not eat on plastic plates. So therefore I will not load them into the dishwasher.
I do not drink orange juice. So therefore I will not pour it into glasses.

And so on. Think of the self serving freedoms available to us, ladies, if we lived our days according to these standards? Perhaps bon bons and soap operas are now within my grasp.

I understand that with my boys this is part of the character and work ethic training that comes with the territory of teaching them to be responsible adults that look beyond self serving needs so that they become servants.

I desire that the boys would see the truth of the matter, stewardship and responsibility for whatever needs to be put away, as indivisible from their experience, whether they ate the pickles or not. Their experience does not absolve them from their responsibility.

Unfortunately, many people today either did not learn this same truth while younger or have since become self-deceived in similar matters today. Perhaps the poisoning of relativism has invaded their thinking and therefore, their actions. Unable to discern truth as truth, they instead see a truth of their experience as divisible from a truth of the matter.

This logic would wreak havoc in the courtroom. Imagine a jury of peers all declaring a defendant innocent of a heinous crime, in the face of overwhelming evidence proving the defendant's guilt, with the jury's explanation being that the defendant had not committed the crime personally against each of them? Is that how injustice should be fought? Is that how the innocent are protected?

It is childish when the boys try to get out of what they know to be true and right. It is reprehensible when an adult behaves in the same way.

Some weeks ago...

2011-01-24T06:28:00.000-08:00

I decluttered my reader subscriptions and was on the quest for fresh material. I do not remember how exactly but I came across the Five J's. She writes primarily about her homeschooling journey and features great resource material for homeschoolers on her site. I have enjoyed going through her archives and would definitely call myself a new fan.

Five J's recently posted a question from a commenter on how you homeschool when Mom is ill. She invites readers to comment with suggestions or links to help that mama out. I left a comment but thought I would address the question further on my own blog.

I have not been ill per se but having two major back surgeries in three years while homeschooling three boys has not been without its challenges. The process has not been without its blessings either.

Three years ago I had two sons in fourth grade and one in first grade. When we realized that January that I had back trouble, I did not think at first about the effect on our homeschool. Until the doctor put me on bedrest. For weeks. Combined with the medications to control the pain and swelling that all featured dizziness as a prime side effect, then I began to worry about our homeschooling.

Fortunately we had started school in June and taken a 12 month approach. Our first help was in being able to think through how to accomplish 180 days in 12 months instead of cramming those days into a much tighter 9 month schedule. We were over two-thirds finished and were able to take some days off when my treatment or medication plan required much more sleeping than teaching.

Our second help was in having willing family and friends to come into our home and take care of the daily needs like meals and laundry and housecleaning. I realize that moms struggling with chronic illness may not have regular help but I would encourage them to consider using the idea of a mother's helper or even monthly housecleaning help if that's in the budget. During more intense periods of illness perhaps your church or a group of friends could provide that week's meals. With both surgeries we truly experienced the mercy of friends and family.

The third help was the queen size bed. Seriously. Since I was on bedrest, I literally had to be in bed, almost flat on my back. We turned our downstairs guest room into the "sick" room and that is where we did our school. The boys would bring their workbooks, papers, journals, notebooks and textbooks into the bed with me. I would read aloud and together we discussed the material. I gave oral tests instead of trying to keep up with all of the papers. Problems were worked in notebooks instead of on the whiteboard. The boys had independent work they kept up with as well and then one at a time I would go over those studies with them.

Since individual attention for each boy was one of our key reasons for homeschooling, my forced bedrest actually drove home the point of why that time was so valuable.

Fourth, I depended on my most excellent homeschooling friends and support group for helping with taking the boys on field trips. They didn't get to attend every possible opportunity but even if I had been up to full health, that would not have fit our lives either. All in all, they ended the year with excellent results and we finished all of our curriculum successfully with our yearly goals.

This time around the boys are of course three years older, making them two 7th graders and a 4th grader. The level of responsibility that they can take is greater, their understanding of all that is going on is greater and their ability to work independently is greater. But we have still depended upon some of these same helps with this surgery.

Homeschooling while ill required a very close look at all of our priorities. Simplicity from the beginning made refining choices later an easier task.

At one point I worried about the overall effect of having a "sick" mom in their lives during these years. However, as God has shown His faithfulness in all of these events, He has particularly blessed the boys with growth, maturity, deeper compassion, a truer willingness to help, eyes to see what is needed and a heart to meet the need along with a sweet thanksgiving for what they have been given.

Do not misunderstand me, they are not saints. But Husband and I are blessed to see them taking affliction in stride and understanding that the Lord has the right to send difficulty as well as blessing. Receiving both from His hand helps us know more about how sweetly He intervenes in our lives with provision and grace.

Planning a surprise...

2011-01-23T15:07:00.000-08:00

birthday party in my family is Mission Impossible meets Saturday Night Live.

My mom's "very special __th" birthday was Sunday. Dad wanted my sister and I to come up with a plan. We came up with a plan. J would invite Mom to spend the weekend with them, and my family would drive up as a surprise. The surprise being that Husband would let me ride in the car for that trip. I'm still on some sitting restrictions so riding in the car past 30-40 minutes is not my best choice.

Unbeknownst (love that word) to my Dad, my Mom called me and asked if they could drive down on Thursday and spend a couple of nights before going to my sister's on Saturday.

Umm. Yes, ma'am, that would be fine.

Immediately I called my sister and told her the news. No problem, we will just switch the lunch to my locale and her family would drive down. My sister calls my Dad to let him know about the change.

Umm. No, sir, that will not work. Mom had not told dad about her call. He tells her that they cannot possibly drive to my house because of other obligations. He emails my sister and me to let us know to stick to the original plan.

Meanwhile, back at the empty nesters, Mom is not. happy. with dad and informs him that he will call his daughters and tell them that they are not coming. Which he does. Only to let us know that he has given Mom a new direction to chew on. He tells her that they are going to my sister's house one day and my house the next.

Umm. Okay.

I go through the whole ruse of telling Mom what I will fix for dinner and dessert and so on. We even call her the morning of the birthday and tell her our plans for the day, not mentioning any trip anywhere at all.

Finally, and a bit late we make it to the restaurant for the surprise birthday party.

She knew all along. Because that's my Mom. Those eyes in the back of her head and ears all over the house? The skills have not left.

Happy Birthday, Mom. Glad we could be with you. Don't let Dad plan anything else.

Thankful Thursday...

2011-01-20T09:36:00.000-08:00

This morning I woke up thankful for a good night's sleep in my own bed.

And then the headache I went to sleep with, started right back up again.

This morning I was thankful for a discussion with the boys about Old Testament sacrifices and how these pointed to the Lamb of God that takes away the sins of the world.

And then school started and one guy, nameless even in nickname to protect the guilty, decided to take a math lesson of one hour and turn it into three hours. Giving the consequence to all of us that plans tomorrow may be delayed because of today's uncompleted schoolwork.

By lunch I was thankful that even when there is sin, reference the math debacle, there is forgiveness and restoration. Even when there are consequences, there is the God given opportunity to learn from the consequences and experience His grace.

And where there is grace, there is gratitude.

An average homeschool....

2011-01-19T13:02:00.000-08:00

day post is about as sure 'nuff a way to jinx an average homeschool day as purposefully not feeding anyone breakfast, missing my morning coffee and handing out 44 math problems just for the fun of it.

But why live safely? Isn't life too short? Joie de vivre the goal? Carpe diem the point?

I'm out of cliches here. That and I've been very interested in the Simple Homeschool series going on about what a homeschool day in the life looks like for all types of families, age ranges and homeschooling methodologies. Last week in the comments the editors invited readers to link up their stories.

Umm. I missed that deadline. Fortunately I have a blog. A ha! So I can submit my own entry in my own sweet forever.

It was a book with this type of feet on the ground information that was part of my research and reading prior to our own transition. Reading all of the differentness in each family's day gave me the courage to join the movement knowing that I did not have to cookie cutter our lives to "make it work". I also gain tremendous insight from others in reading how they handle a particular subject or teaching time. Ideas abound, and I don't mind at all running beside with my hands open to catch particular ones.

Presenting {fanfare flourish} A Homeschool Day in the Life of A Complete Thought:

5:00 -- 6:00 a.m. I get up to get my head together through prayer and Bible study. I also use this time to listen to music, think through the day before the questions begin and even write a little bit. *(Since my back surgery I have greatly modified this earliness and am just starting to work my way back. Baby micro steps.)

6:30 a.m. Boys' alarms go off. They do morning chores such as pet care (guinea pigs and cats), bedroom straightening (beds, bathrooms, stray clothes), household chores (opening blinds, sweeping, unloading dishwasher, setting the table). *(Baby micro steps again per previous note. We are all working back to this goal.)

7:00 a.m. Breakfast. I try to cook our breakfast most days. Thursday or Sleep In Day is the exception where everyone can fend for himself/herself.

7:30 a.m. Family devotions. We do various things here but Husband leads unless he has a super early morning. This year he has been reading out of the chronological Bible through the gospels, giving a real thorough look at what each book says about Jesus' time on earth.

8:00 a.m. Bible. The boys work on their independent Bible lesson. They are studying Isaiah this year.

1) History. We are currently using the Mystery of History Vol. III, The Renaissance, Reformation and the Growth of Nations. This was the period of history we completed three years ago with Veritas Press. However, this period is massive and repeating it has not really had us "repeating" all that much. MOH includes so many more historical figures and places that on some days I wonder if we won't be repeating this book to get everything in.

Our lesson involves my reading the material and the boys narrate a la Charlotte Mason style what they heard. Discussion and working on the MOH worksheets is also included.

2) Geography. We chose the Trail Guide to World Geography by Cindy Wiggers. She has the program set out in four days of questions but we usually do two days at a time, which means that we do geography twice a week, Mondays and Thursdays. Friday is for our mapping work. We use Uncle Josh's Outline Map Collection on CD-Rom and print as needed.

3) Language Arts. I am using a book called Figuratively Speaking to teach literary terms and devices. This book includes examples from literature, exercises for practice and suggestions for writing and advanced practice. In our reading aloud time at night, as these examples come up, we'll stop and discuss how the author used the literary device in the story. Again, this is a two to three times a week exercise. The other two days of the week the two older boys work on their Analytical Grammar Review and Reinforcement.

4) Writing and Vocabulary. The older two boys are working through the Institute for Excellence in Writing program. My youngest is working through Wordly Wise Book 4 and also is doing a unit study on Farmer Boy.

5) Math. This subject I should label Splitsville. For several reasons. One, my understanding of math went splitsville around 4th grade and has always been a struggle for me. Two, my oldest son's competency with math went splitsville with my being able to help him about 4 years ago. Three, no one around here is on the same math program requiring three splitsville types of approaches. And four, after any especially strenuous lesson, we all go splitsville from one another to separate rooms for recuperation.

That being said, the math must be done because I'm not balancing anyone's checkbook later when they are (please, Lord) gainfully employed young men. We have plugged along at it and, praise the Lord, Husband has the head for math that he did not marry. My oldest is working on a Saxon Algebra program. The second is working in a Math U See program and the youngest is using Teaching Textbooks right now.

6) Science. We love Apologia. The two oldest boys are using both the textbook and CD-Rom for Exploring Creation through General Science. Using both types of media matches their individual skill sets. My youngest is working through Land Animals of the Sixth Day.

7) Spanish. We use Rosetta Stone.

8) Art study. A couple of years ago I won an art grant for some high quality prints. We put one of these up on our school room wall and study it throughout the week noting artistic details like color, shadows, proportions, shapes, techniques and so on. On Friday we discuss the artist and the context for the painting.

9) Read alouds. As a family we spend about an hour a day reading aloud from either a living history book or a classic literary work that we discuss. Right now we are reading through The Fellowship of the Ring.

I started out with times beside everything and then realized you might actually want a realistic view. The only stated goal times are those up until 8:00 a.m. After that, it is work until you are done. Recognize, adapt and overcome with flexibility that you may take longer on one subject today than tomorrow or with boy #2 today and boy #1 tomorrow and boy #3 the next day.

We do break around noon for lunch. Everyone has a quiet time of at least an hour after lunch, some days two hours, and then the afternoon may involve finishing up school work. We also utilize Netflix, the History Channel, the Discovery Channel and the Science Channel for educational videos. Every two weeks we go to the library for the next infusion of reading material.

Homeschooling is both exactly what I thought it would be and not at all like I thought it would be. Hence, life. I do not regret our decision to make this choice but remain very grateful for how God is allowing these days to be used of Him in my life and in the boys' lives.

Any questions?

Dispelling a homeschool....

2011-01-18T06:53:00.000-08:00

myth. Namely that those of us who school our children at home must have greater patience than those who choose other methods.

Many homeschooling moms are told this. Either with a sense of disbelief, envy or even impatience at such characteristics.

Let me be clear, as much as only speak for myself. I am pretty sure that I do not have greater quantifiable patience than other moms. While I may seem to exercise greater patience than some moms, I am just as certain that there are moms who exercise more than I do no matter their school choice.

Last week I had a hair appointment. The boys packed up their portable work and off we went. While my hair was returning to its color of choice, they were working on their science, vocabulary and reading. When it was time to go, my expectation was that everyone had their backpacks and off we went. Being the cool mom I stopped at a local restaurant to pick up chicken fingers and wings. Wa hoo. Look at me.

Home. In the garage. Headed up the stairs. The Chairman announces that he has left his backpack at the salon. Twenty minutes away. Forty minutes round trip. Cold chicken fingers and wings to anticipate now.

Exhibit A in just how little patience this homeschooling mom can have. It was a tense ride back to the salon. All the excitement I felt about the haircut was run over within the ride there and back as I fumed both out loud and inside to the universe at large regarding stewardship, responsibility and focus.

God chimed in at some point that He is the only One who does not ever forget. Ouch.

The ride back was redeemed in the knowledge yet again that I do not have any greater measure of patience than anyone else. I do, however, have the gift of multiple opportunities between the hours of 8:00 a.m. and 3:00 p.m. to be chastened on this point.

Depending upon which day you inquire with disbelief at my great amount of patience, I will be reminding myself of both its consequence and blessing.

If a cat supposedly....

2011-01-17T11:57:00.000-08:00

has nine lives, then why the heck would they need Young Again Cat Food? Is nine lives not enough times to be young again? Or does each life a cat has actually make him/her feel older?

Does the Young Again Cat Food kick in at a particular one of the nine lives or affect all of them? The ad guarantees no more fat cats. Shouldn't the name be Thin Again Cat Food?

Aren't some kittens chubby? Roly poly? Aren't most really old cats fairly thin? Or is that just the diabetic ones?

These are the things I want to know. That and why can't I keep a poinsettia alive longer than a month? Maybe they have Young Again Plant Food?

A lot comes through my various subscriptions to grocery deals and coupons and money saving tips. This one today sparked my thoughts. Oddly. Randomly. Erratically.

You're welcome.

Upward basketball has....

2011-01-17T06:31:00.000-08:00

a new player in the Chairman. Being the youngest has mostly meant following the older two around to dozens of soccer practices, games and tournaments.

Except for that year where for some reason we thought we could manage everyone playing soccer. I have at least three stubborn grey hairs from that season of crazy. What were we thinking? Part of our philosophy towards sports is choosing that which allows the whole family to participate in support of one another. Three of us in City A and two of us in City B is not conducive to that goal. Even with cell phones. Verizon can't possibly replace having Mom jumping up and down on the sidelines.

After this fall's soccer, I had promised the Chairman that he could play the winter sport of choice while his two brothers rested their limbs. Our hopes were for an indoor soccer season but his age group didn't have enough of a showing to sport a team.

Which left our choice with basketball.

Ahem. I hate basketball. That's a well known fact in this household. Any of the boys will tell you so. Maybe it came from growing up in an over the top basketball state where all my classmates chose friendships based on which team you supported. I had no idea of the teams let alone a favorite.

Maybe the hostility began after Coach J insisted that we play basketball every P.E. session ad nauseum. Maybe bitterness grew after I badly sprained one finger and three days after that splint came off broke the corresponding finger on the other hand.

Take your pick. Mom hates basketball.

So it was a big pill to swallow to sign up the Chairman to play....basketball. But. The deed was done. Practices were begun. Shooting strategy and defensive tactics were discussed. Ye olde basketball goal once mowed down by the tractor was re-installed for afternoon home practices.

Saturday was the first game. They won 22-17.

Largely in part to the woman who was wildly waving her arms up and down on the sidelines. Or so I've been led to believe.