Jonam ... we love you and know this birthday will be great!
enjoy "12" ... and don't make it go by too fast for your dear, getting older, Mom. I'm not quite ready for a teenager. And, no ... you really can't take the day off school. But, we will have some fun listening to Pinocchio on Living Books for the Ears and then Rikki -Tikki -Tavi on you need a story.
Not bad for a Tuesday!
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Monday, January 29, 2007
never despise humble beginnings
Lord, It's hard to be humble when you're perfect in every way.
I can't wait to look in the mirror, 'cause I get better lookin' each day ...
I think we can all relate to someone like this. Hopefully not someone we have to be in too close contact with on a daily basis, but they are really out there. I have met some of them in my own homeschool journey. The wife who talks like her curriculum choices are the definitive ones and her husband is the greatest thing since sliced bread. Never a day to worry or complain about in her household, for her perfect children have done everything she asked of them ... without the use of rewards or Scripture quotations. Her husband always makes the "right" choice when it comes to the Spiritual decisions for his family. All is calm ... all is bright.
All is not humble. ( all is not right ).
For some reason, this morning, I was reminded of my humble beginning in marriage. We were both still in school, young and just about flat broke. Together we decided that if we had $10,000 well, we would get married for sure! When all was counted, we got hitched with less than $3000. Forget a honeymoon ... we didn't have the money and we were too young to rent a car. My brother ended up chauffering us to a simple overnight Inn that some of our friends surprised us with at the ceremony. We just knew it was "now or never" and we trusted God to help us over the hump.
Have you noticed that He has a sense of humour? He provided financially by allowing us to conceive within 4 months. Once the baby was born, I received a humble monetary gift each month from the government. It wasn't what I thought I would be doing with my new degree, but it sure was fun! We then found ourselves expecting again when the first baby was 8 months old. Humble beginnings for sure ... now we knew we were definitely going to homeschool.
My first curriculum books consisted of a library card and a visit to a woman's home where I picked up a Bob Jones workbook that I am sure was written back in the 70's when I was my son's age ... but we loved the time together, and we have grown tremendously as a family since then.
While I don't necessarily have the size of family I long for, I do have all the love I imagined ... and then some. These days, if I cannot find just the curriculum I am looking for, I write it myself. If I need to get somewhere, I drive in the car my husband does not need to take to work. If one of my children has hair that needs to be cut, I can choose to trim it myself, or pay for someone else to do it. The options are nearly endless, and that not to say that I do not remember where I came from ... my humble beginnings.
I personally believe that we are faced with some humble new beginning on a regular basis. The perfect writing program that just doesn't seem to click with the child you thought would soar with it. That character flaw that keeps rearing its ugly head time and time again ... in you. The friend that seems to need so much more attention than you have the energy to give. That issue you would just as soon ignore. All are opportunities to begin again ... small.
Humble thyself in the sight of the Lord, and in due time, He will lift you up.
All my life is a humble beginning, until He decides to take me home. I like that idea. It keeps me focused. It keeps me real. It keeps things simple.
It keeps me humble.
I can't wait to look in the mirror, 'cause I get better lookin' each day ...
I think we can all relate to someone like this. Hopefully not someone we have to be in too close contact with on a daily basis, but they are really out there. I have met some of them in my own homeschool journey. The wife who talks like her curriculum choices are the definitive ones and her husband is the greatest thing since sliced bread. Never a day to worry or complain about in her household, for her perfect children have done everything she asked of them ... without the use of rewards or Scripture quotations. Her husband always makes the "right" choice when it comes to the Spiritual decisions for his family. All is calm ... all is bright.
All is not humble. ( all is not right ).
For some reason, this morning, I was reminded of my humble beginning in marriage. We were both still in school, young and just about flat broke. Together we decided that if we had $10,000 well, we would get married for sure! When all was counted, we got hitched with less than $3000. Forget a honeymoon ... we didn't have the money and we were too young to rent a car. My brother ended up chauffering us to a simple overnight Inn that some of our friends surprised us with at the ceremony. We just knew it was "now or never" and we trusted God to help us over the hump.
Have you noticed that He has a sense of humour? He provided financially by allowing us to conceive within 4 months. Once the baby was born, I received a humble monetary gift each month from the government. It wasn't what I thought I would be doing with my new degree, but it sure was fun! We then found ourselves expecting again when the first baby was 8 months old. Humble beginnings for sure ... now we knew we were definitely going to homeschool.
My first curriculum books consisted of a library card and a visit to a woman's home where I picked up a Bob Jones workbook that I am sure was written back in the 70's when I was my son's age ... but we loved the time together, and we have grown tremendously as a family since then.
While I don't necessarily have the size of family I long for, I do have all the love I imagined ... and then some. These days, if I cannot find just the curriculum I am looking for, I write it myself. If I need to get somewhere, I drive in the car my husband does not need to take to work. If one of my children has hair that needs to be cut, I can choose to trim it myself, or pay for someone else to do it. The options are nearly endless, and that not to say that I do not remember where I came from ... my humble beginnings.
I personally believe that we are faced with some humble new beginning on a regular basis. The perfect writing program that just doesn't seem to click with the child you thought would soar with it. That character flaw that keeps rearing its ugly head time and time again ... in you. The friend that seems to need so much more attention than you have the energy to give. That issue you would just as soon ignore. All are opportunities to begin again ... small.
Humble thyself in the sight of the Lord, and in due time, He will lift you up.
All my life is a humble beginning, until He decides to take me home. I like that idea. It keeps me focused. It keeps me real. It keeps things simple.
It keeps me humble.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
go without
as a side note ... if you are out of white sugar or honey for your tea, icing sugar is NOT a comparable substitute.
just in case you wondered.
just in case you wondered.
Monday, January 22, 2007
Creative Christianity
One of the many reasons we choose to homeschool is purely and simply for the love of art.
That may sound strange to those who adore the Sciences and Maths and cannot live a day outside the confines of the "tried and true". Now, I am referring to parameters and boundaries that can be proven by a theory or rule, rather than the looseness and fluidity that surrounds and weaves itself into a work of the imagination. Not to say that I do not enjoy the solid "yes" answer to a difficult equation. I, more than all the members of my household, appreciate knowing when I have arrived. I love the realization of an utterly unchallengable solution. Nor would I propose to say there is no imagination in the Sciences. All one needs must do is look at the brilliancy that was Da Vinci. His imagination far surpasses anything I have yet to see in my mind's eye.
Here, again ... my love of art. The freedom it offers ... trying to explain my mind to those who tell me they would love to spend even one day inside of it. Desperate to put to paper all the ideas swimming around in my cranium, in worship to the Creator.
I love the way Michael Card describes what I have always, somehow, known. Creativity is worship insofar as it is, at its essence, a response. I hear the Word, and I respond with music, with silence, in adoration, in appreciation by picking up the basin and the towel. It is a romantic response to this Person whom I adore. He is beautiful! I want nothing more than to be in his presence. I love Him! And so I sing and I write... Because it is a response, it does not originate with me. He speaks. He moves. He is beautiful. We respond. We create. We worship.
God is an artist and he is beautiful. He has woven his image into the fabric of our lives, which explains our drive to create things which are beyond us and which we don't always understand. Perhaps more important, he has issued a call to us that carries with it the possibility of obedience or disobedience: the call to respond to his beauty with creative worship... God calls us to create a space in time for ourselves and others to meet with God, to gaze upon his beauty and to worship him.
Artists in medieval times did not sign their work. It never occurred to them to do so. ( Michelangelo signed only one of his early sculptures, the Pieta - because he was incensed that some people were attributing it to another artist. He later deeply regretted his conceit.) Their art was a gift meant to point away from themselves and toward the God who gave it. They were safely hidden in Christ, free from the tyrrany of self. They knew the great truth that they were nothing more and nothing less than children of a great King who had been entrusted with a sacred task: to win praise for their Lord... the One who first gave the gift.
So, my husband and I continue to play our instruments, writing songs and music, painting and sketching and teaching when we can, hoping that a little of the love we feel for our Saviour rubs off onto the souls of any who are thirsty. It reminds me of a few lines of one of my favourite poems. It is taken from the love-poem entitled The Cinnamon Peeler's Wife, by Michael Ondaatje
you could never walk through markets
without the profession of my fingers
floating over you. The blind would
stumble certain of whom they approached
though you might bathe
under rain gutters, monsoon.
You will be known among strangers
as the cinnamon peeler's wife.
There is so much more to learn in this thing we call life ... and I cannot say I have enjoyed the whole ride, yet. But I do know that it is the desire of my heart to be known by others as a friend and lover of the One by whom I am known.
That may sound strange to those who adore the Sciences and Maths and cannot live a day outside the confines of the "tried and true". Now, I am referring to parameters and boundaries that can be proven by a theory or rule, rather than the looseness and fluidity that surrounds and weaves itself into a work of the imagination. Not to say that I do not enjoy the solid "yes" answer to a difficult equation. I, more than all the members of my household, appreciate knowing when I have arrived. I love the realization of an utterly unchallengable solution. Nor would I propose to say there is no imagination in the Sciences. All one needs must do is look at the brilliancy that was Da Vinci. His imagination far surpasses anything I have yet to see in my mind's eye.
Here, again ... my love of art. The freedom it offers ... trying to explain my mind to those who tell me they would love to spend even one day inside of it. Desperate to put to paper all the ideas swimming around in my cranium, in worship to the Creator.
I love the way Michael Card describes what I have always, somehow, known. Creativity is worship insofar as it is, at its essence, a response. I hear the Word, and I respond with music, with silence, in adoration, in appreciation by picking up the basin and the towel. It is a romantic response to this Person whom I adore. He is beautiful! I want nothing more than to be in his presence. I love Him! And so I sing and I write... Because it is a response, it does not originate with me. He speaks. He moves. He is beautiful. We respond. We create. We worship.
God is an artist and he is beautiful. He has woven his image into the fabric of our lives, which explains our drive to create things which are beyond us and which we don't always understand. Perhaps more important, he has issued a call to us that carries with it the possibility of obedience or disobedience: the call to respond to his beauty with creative worship... God calls us to create a space in time for ourselves and others to meet with God, to gaze upon his beauty and to worship him.
Artists in medieval times did not sign their work. It never occurred to them to do so. ( Michelangelo signed only one of his early sculptures, the Pieta - because he was incensed that some people were attributing it to another artist. He later deeply regretted his conceit.) Their art was a gift meant to point away from themselves and toward the God who gave it. They were safely hidden in Christ, free from the tyrrany of self. They knew the great truth that they were nothing more and nothing less than children of a great King who had been entrusted with a sacred task: to win praise for their Lord... the One who first gave the gift.
So, my husband and I continue to play our instruments, writing songs and music, painting and sketching and teaching when we can, hoping that a little of the love we feel for our Saviour rubs off onto the souls of any who are thirsty. It reminds me of a few lines of one of my favourite poems. It is taken from the love-poem entitled The Cinnamon Peeler's Wife, by Michael Ondaatje
you could never walk through markets
without the profession of my fingers
floating over you. The blind would
stumble certain of whom they approached
though you might bathe
under rain gutters, monsoon.
You will be known among strangers
as the cinnamon peeler's wife.
There is so much more to learn in this thing we call life ... and I cannot say I have enjoyed the whole ride, yet. But I do know that it is the desire of my heart to be known by others as a friend and lover of the One by whom I am known.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
child-proof?
Well, you have heard it said before that the teacher is not greater than the student. Yesterday my husband and I lived it.
I picked up my prescriptions to help me in my battle against this nasty sinusitus. Two sprays of a good old steroid in each nostril in the morning ... don't tip your head back or you taste the supposedly tastless stuff. Don't blow your nose for 15 minutes ... instead, look like a toddler while the mess runs clear down your chin ( and you catch a slight taste of the supposedly tasteless stuff ). Don't SNIFF!!! ... just breathe normally as you spray. If I could breathe normally, would I need steroids? It definitely cleared my nose ... made it run like crazy! Just ask any Olympian sprinter, my husband suggested ... they'll tell you that's what steroids are for.
Have I mentioned the horse pills yet? Yeah ... 1000mg a day and I'm barely over 119 lbs. So far the vertigo has moved over for mild dizziness, nausea and a funny taste in my mouth. It might smell funny too, because I noticed my youngest moving farther and farther back in his seat when I bent over to try and explain how to change percents into decimals. I think he was being kind. Maybe it's not the drugs causing my head to feel spacey after all ... maybe it's the math. Just ask any 10 year old ... he'll tell you that's all math is good for.
The irony of it all came when I attempted to open the medicine at the dinner table last night. I have a degree in English, so I didn't worry too much about reading the directions ... press down with palm of hand and turn left. Ok, should be simple enough ... look at that ... there's even a picture of an arrow pointing all the visual people out there in the right direction. Amazing. This won't take long ... hey ... It's not working. I know I'm sick, but I'm not completely inept. Here ... Neal ... you try. I must not be strong enough. Uhhh ... ( husband looks at bottle upon second try to make sure he read the same instructions I did. He loves me, but he knows I only read what I think I need to ... third attempt ... third failure ).
Child finally takes his nose out of his book to see his poor, pathetic, weak parents struggling with a prescription bottle and says: " Mom, Mom, Mom ... that's not how you do it. Here, watch me " and the two intellegent, educated, loving, strong ( very strong, really ) parents gaze at the fruit of their loins as he effortlessly uncaps the bottle and hands it back to his stunned Mother. " Ok, now ... put the lid back on and let me watch you do it." Do I bother to say I couldn't .... again?
" That's ok, Mom ... watch me again more closely this time. You'll get it . Ok ... slowly, slowly ... push just a little ... Yeah! You did it! "
Yep. I did it. I got the cap off the prescription bottle labelled " child-proof cap ". And I am proud to say that, since we happily homeschool, I have my personal assistant right beside me ... 24/7 ... ready for the next dose of wisdom as soon as I'm ready.
I picked up my prescriptions to help me in my battle against this nasty sinusitus. Two sprays of a good old steroid in each nostril in the morning ... don't tip your head back or you taste the supposedly tastless stuff. Don't blow your nose for 15 minutes ... instead, look like a toddler while the mess runs clear down your chin ( and you catch a slight taste of the supposedly tasteless stuff ). Don't SNIFF!!! ... just breathe normally as you spray. If I could breathe normally, would I need steroids? It definitely cleared my nose ... made it run like crazy! Just ask any Olympian sprinter, my husband suggested ... they'll tell you that's what steroids are for.
Have I mentioned the horse pills yet? Yeah ... 1000mg a day and I'm barely over 119 lbs. So far the vertigo has moved over for mild dizziness, nausea and a funny taste in my mouth. It might smell funny too, because I noticed my youngest moving farther and farther back in his seat when I bent over to try and explain how to change percents into decimals. I think he was being kind. Maybe it's not the drugs causing my head to feel spacey after all ... maybe it's the math. Just ask any 10 year old ... he'll tell you that's all math is good for.
The irony of it all came when I attempted to open the medicine at the dinner table last night. I have a degree in English, so I didn't worry too much about reading the directions ... press down with palm of hand and turn left. Ok, should be simple enough ... look at that ... there's even a picture of an arrow pointing all the visual people out there in the right direction. Amazing. This won't take long ... hey ... It's not working. I know I'm sick, but I'm not completely inept. Here ... Neal ... you try. I must not be strong enough. Uhhh ... ( husband looks at bottle upon second try to make sure he read the same instructions I did. He loves me, but he knows I only read what I think I need to ... third attempt ... third failure ).
Child finally takes his nose out of his book to see his poor, pathetic, weak parents struggling with a prescription bottle and says: " Mom, Mom, Mom ... that's not how you do it. Here, watch me " and the two intellegent, educated, loving, strong ( very strong, really ) parents gaze at the fruit of their loins as he effortlessly uncaps the bottle and hands it back to his stunned Mother. " Ok, now ... put the lid back on and let me watch you do it." Do I bother to say I couldn't .... again?
" That's ok, Mom ... watch me again more closely this time. You'll get it . Ok ... slowly, slowly ... push just a little ... Yeah! You did it! "
Yep. I did it. I got the cap off the prescription bottle labelled " child-proof cap ". And I am proud to say that, since we happily homeschool, I have my personal assistant right beside me ... 24/7 ... ready for the next dose of wisdom as soon as I'm ready.
Tuesday, January 9, 2007
while I've "got" you
seems most days I kind of coast by doing my thing and not giving a whole exegesis on the who, what, where, when or why of it all ... it's "just because".
well, Father has been revealing to me, precept upon precept, that it is so much more than that below the surface. I don't have to force my reactions through rose-coloured glasses per se, though I learned in Pollyanna that the concept isn't completely wrong. Optimism is a boon to believers, and I remain convinced Father will keep teaching me as long as I am asking to be taught ... while He's "got" me.
The same idea applies to my homeschooling. My children look up to me for the answers, and, more often than not, for the questions. My job is to teach them how to think critically ... not so they will emulate my all-too-frequent pessimism, but so they will grow in wisdom and stature, and in favour with God and men, able to stand their ground, and after they have done everything , to stand. ( 1Samuel 2; 26 Luke 2:52 , Ephesians 6:13 )
While I've "got" you ...
Time seems an endless stream of tomorrow's when we are in the thick of things, and yet one day my children will have graduated and I will wonder who emptied my bucket of days. I need to be in the Word daily, refilling my cup and drinking deeply, fighting the temptation to give up or give in. In this life I will always be thirsty. Finding refreshment is not always easy.
Neither is God, but while He's "got" me, it's got to be good, because I've "got" Him.
No variety of love is too trivial for exegesis. No aspect of love is so ridiculous that it hasn't been exhaustively reviewed by the great thinkers, the great artists, and the great hosts of daytime talk shows.
-- P. J. O'Rourke, Eat the Rich
well, Father has been revealing to me, precept upon precept, that it is so much more than that below the surface. I don't have to force my reactions through rose-coloured glasses per se, though I learned in Pollyanna that the concept isn't completely wrong. Optimism is a boon to believers, and I remain convinced Father will keep teaching me as long as I am asking to be taught ... while He's "got" me.
The same idea applies to my homeschooling. My children look up to me for the answers, and, more often than not, for the questions. My job is to teach them how to think critically ... not so they will emulate my all-too-frequent pessimism, but so they will grow in wisdom and stature, and in favour with God and men, able to stand their ground, and after they have done everything , to stand. ( 1Samuel 2; 26 Luke 2:52 , Ephesians 6:13 )
While I've "got" you ...
Time seems an endless stream of tomorrow's when we are in the thick of things, and yet one day my children will have graduated and I will wonder who emptied my bucket of days. I need to be in the Word daily, refilling my cup and drinking deeply, fighting the temptation to give up or give in. In this life I will always be thirsty. Finding refreshment is not always easy.
Neither is God, but while He's "got" me, it's got to be good, because I've "got" Him.
No variety of love is too trivial for exegesis. No aspect of love is so ridiculous that it hasn't been exhaustively reviewed by the great thinkers, the great artists, and the great hosts of daytime talk shows.
-- P. J. O'Rourke, Eat the Rich
Friday, January 5, 2007
happy to have found it
This Christmas holiday, I found myself watching a DVD of the old Andy Griffith show. We don't have a dish or cable here, and our makeshift antenna gives us a fuzzy few channels to choose from on a good day. We don't mind ... it frees us up for other pursuits like music making and art. I have also found that when I watch something on the tube, I pay much closer attention.
So, there I was watching Andy, reunited with his old High School sweetheart, musing over the merits of small town security while Sharon, the "girl" contented for big city slickin'. This conversation ensued:
You can't live up to your potential here. In the big city you can grow and expand ... live a different kind of life.
How can it be that much different if you're happy? That's the main thing, ain't it, I mean, that's the goal that every individual as a person is shootin' for, ain't? It's kinda the prize of the game ... to be happy?
Yes. But, how do you find that here? I like trying to be a big fish in a big pond ... not a big fish in a little pond.
What's wrong with that?
Well ... what's wrong with that is I don't care for that.
I do ... I really do ... I've found what I want.
How do you know? You've never tried anything else!
I don't have to ... I don't have to! Even if I did try, I'd find out I already found it.
It made me think about my own life, and our goals as a family. Now I know I need to be prepared for a potential barrage of comments about the cheapness of "happy" and how God does not particularily care whether or not we are "happy". That the goal should never be so vague as happiness because happiness in and of itself is so fleeting ... a temporary state of the mind or a chemical reaction based on temporal and earthly things.
Well, here goes ... I disagree.
Happiness for me and mine has long been the simplified goal my husband has come to conclude we should strive for. Happiness is an equation with infinity attached. Happiness is a choice ... joy is a gift. So many times in life I think we miss the point because we think life has to have an incredibly complicated spiritual undertone joined at its hip ... all the time. I have come to believe that God takes just as much pleasure in me when I decide to take the kids for a free skate at the community arena as He does when I lay aside an afternoon to bask in His presence in all-out worship. And both make me happy.
As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord ... happily ... and trust He will not let us miss the point.
So, there I was watching Andy, reunited with his old High School sweetheart, musing over the merits of small town security while Sharon, the "girl" contented for big city slickin'. This conversation ensued:
You can't live up to your potential here. In the big city you can grow and expand ... live a different kind of life.
How can it be that much different if you're happy? That's the main thing, ain't it, I mean, that's the goal that every individual as a person is shootin' for, ain't? It's kinda the prize of the game ... to be happy?
Yes. But, how do you find that here? I like trying to be a big fish in a big pond ... not a big fish in a little pond.
What's wrong with that?
Well ... what's wrong with that is I don't care for that.
I do ... I really do ... I've found what I want.
How do you know? You've never tried anything else!
I don't have to ... I don't have to! Even if I did try, I'd find out I already found it.
It made me think about my own life, and our goals as a family. Now I know I need to be prepared for a potential barrage of comments about the cheapness of "happy" and how God does not particularily care whether or not we are "happy". That the goal should never be so vague as happiness because happiness in and of itself is so fleeting ... a temporary state of the mind or a chemical reaction based on temporal and earthly things.
Well, here goes ... I disagree.
Happiness for me and mine has long been the simplified goal my husband has come to conclude we should strive for. Happiness is an equation with infinity attached. Happiness is a choice ... joy is a gift. So many times in life I think we miss the point because we think life has to have an incredibly complicated spiritual undertone joined at its hip ... all the time. I have come to believe that God takes just as much pleasure in me when I decide to take the kids for a free skate at the community arena as He does when I lay aside an afternoon to bask in His presence in all-out worship. And both make me happy.
As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord ... happily ... and trust He will not let us miss the point.
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