Be Still My Heart

So here we are.  The final week before Christmas.  And I have a few words.

Moms....this week....this is not our Magnum Opus.  It is not about us.  Or our kids.  And I know we say we already know that.  I  know we read the Bible story to them and set up the nativity scene and talk about mangers and angels and swaddling clothes.  I know.

But how can we reconcile what we Say we believe with the way our minds are racing and our thoughts are distracted and we're running around all like

Where is the rest?

Why is it so hard to just sit and treasure these things, these gifts already given, in our hearts.

And I'm not preaching.  Or maybe I am, but to myself as well.   Because I am this Jennifer Gardner (yeah, I wish). I bite off more than I can chew.  All in the name of 'making memories'.

Is there meaning to this madness we have created for ourselves? Christmas should instill joy into our hearts, because the Savior entered into our chaos to bring the peace we so desperately were seeking. But when I look around I just see a lot of....despair. Frazzled moms and disengaged dads and lonely kids.  All of us desperately searching for something we will never find under that tree.

So I'll end with this. If you are like me and fall into the category of 

frazzled, 

disengaged,

 lonely 

I invite you to take a minute and study that nativity scene one more time. What was the meaning to that madness? 

Simply God inviting us into His rest.  His invitation for us to gaze upon the feed trough, with Baby resting inside, and come feast on his love.  To hear His proposal delivered by armies of angels to experience genuine joy only He will provide.  To join together with those two speechless teenagers as he dashes all of our earthly dreams only to deliver an eternal hope that will never disappoint.  

His Word made into fragile flesh.  Be still my heart. Be still my worries and my concerns. Be still my to-do lists and absurdly high expectations.  Oh, come let us adore Him.

 The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.

John 1:14

An Open Letter to The Farmers' Wives

And here's to all the ladies with the dirty apron on.

I see you there.  Weary and worn from the 1000 ordinary things you did today.  You're exhausted from the 16 hours of non stop you just walked through.  You consider it a success the kids are finally tucked in and they only yelled for you four times from their bedroom asking for another story, or water, or asking what you were cooking for breakfast tomorrow.

And I know.  I know the last thing you want to do is scrub those pots and pans from the supper you slaved over but they barely picked at.  But plunging your hands into a sink of hot soapy water is as close as your going to get to a manicure this year so you resolve yourself to it.  Besides, it beats the ironing and the mopping and the toilet scrubbing still waiting for your attention.

And I know this, too.  The dishes and toilets and laundry would be so much easier to do if you weren't alone.

 This season of calving and combining are our tours of duty.   We become single mothers for a couple of months while they take up residence in the fields. We continue mastering the 1000 ordinaries but in his absence pick up the check book balancing and oil changes and the other 1000 ordinaries he usually does for you.

And it's not the responsibility of juggling it all.  It really isn't.  It's the heavy loneliness.  Because we can move mountains when they are here with us, can't we?  But now all we have is listening to the low roar of the bean head spinning to remind us we're in this thing together.  Us and them.  Partners in crime. Because farm life is criminal at times.  The long hours, little pay, constant headaches of machinery breaking and calves dying.  Cruel and unusual punishment for the faint of heart.

But for the farmer and his bride it's just another day in this quickly vanishing paradise.  There are not many of us left, girls.  Not many of us crazies are still out there trying to work a 7am-midnight shift.  Not many of us willing to surrender our livelihood to mother nature and God's Providence.

And the harvest we're trying to reap is much more than corn and beans and supper on the table.  It's work ethic and self sacrifice and being something bigger than yourself.  It's the catalyst for the children's memories that will be made.  The plot of the stories they will tell their own kids when they tuck them in.  The motivation to know they can do this farm thing themselves when they are weary and worn and up to their necks in ordinary.

So I leave you with this.  As your hands meet the hot soapy water and you might be wondering if it is worth it all.  If you're beating yourself up because you haven't jumped in the leaves with the kids or served apple cider.  If they're mad at you because you make them haul hay over taking them to the movies.  Be hopeful this life we're doing is preparing their hearts for a harvest of righteousness.  We can do this thing.  And it will be a beautiful picture of the gospel of grace to ourselves and our kids.  

And one more thing.  I bet you're not the only one feeling lonely.  I bet my bottom dollar he's thinking of you out there on that combine.  So, let's do something wild and crazy. Let's tell the laundry 'Sayonara' and leave the dishes for in the morning.  And instead, go pour him a big cup of coffee and meet him out in the field.  Your hands might not be as soft, but your heart will thank you for it.  

  

5 Things I've Done This Week That Will Make You Feel Like A Better Human Being

I went to dinner the other night with some of The Honey's family that live out of town.   As we chit chatted, they asked me what I had been up to.

Initially, you give the standard answer:  'Not much'.

But then they did the follow up.  So I started listing the stuff I fill my days with.

Cooking

                                       Cleaning 

Educating

                                     Taxing driving

                                                                                           Refereeing

Nursing

                                                         Coordinating calendars

Home maintenance

                                                                                                                                                      Veterinary care

                                                                               

The list goes on.

And you know this already, don't you?  All you other women out there participating in this great juggling act we call motherhood.  Some weeks we have 20 balls up in the air and it appears we are carrying our load with ease and grace.   We make every appointment, supper is on the table, stories have been read.  Other weeks, not so much.  We burn the biscuits, the kids go to bed crying, we run out of chocolate chips.  It's during these weeks we need a little encouragement.  A reminder that we are not alone in this daily circus act we call life.

So, if you are having one of those weeks, if you feel like you just can't get it right, here is a list of things I actually did this week.  It humbles me to say them out loud on my virtual stage.  I hope it encourages you.

Here goes.....


 1.  I might have went ahead and served someone a hot dog bun from a package where mold was obviously present. To my credit, I did choose the one that was furthest away from the moldy ones spot.

Look at these kids.  Don't you want them to make it?

2.  When I walked into the bathroom and saw the toilet paper roll was empty, I was too lazy to change it.  So I just went and used another bathroom.

3.  I caught myself praying for Joel and Julia from Parenthood to work things out in their marriage.  Parenthood.  The TV show.  I prayed for television characters.




4.  When I finally went to bed after a long day of cooking, cleaning, educating, taxi driving, etc.  I was frustrated that I had forgotten to put the clean sheets back on the bed from washing them earlier that day.  So I just slept straight on the mattress.

5. I tried to talk The Honey into just letting us have milkshakes for supper because after 14 years of cooking I am, as they say, 'so over it'.  I was vetoed.  So we went out to eat.


More humbling than all these things:   this was, by far, not my worst week as a wife and mother.  But those stories are for a different blog post.

So the moral of this story, boys and girls trying to make it in the real world, is this:  don't let the moldy hot dog bun or accidentally praying for fictional character kind of days keep you down.  Because one of these days, if we keep persevering, we will be lucky enough to get to have a milkshake for supper.  Solidarity now, girls!  We can do this thing.

The Math Teacher's Beatitudes

Blessed are the teachers of math to 6th grade boys,

for theirs is a dark corner of the pantry and a jar of peanut butter and bag of chocolate chips

Blessed are those who beat their head against the wall after explaining percentages for the 90 kazillionth time, for they shall see a long hot bath at the end of the day.

Blessed are those who mourn low test scores even though they went over these exact same problems the day before,

for they will be comforted by the thought that one day this child will graduate and move out of your house and get a job.  Hopefully in retail.  Where they have to work with percentages.  

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after kids who can do their math homework in less than two hours and without getting distracted by hunting or football or butterflies,

for they will be filled with the knowledge that they hid some chocolate underneath the carrots in the fridge.

And blessed are you, moms and teachers, when you don't strangle someone when they still can't say their 9s multiplication table after years of practice,

for you will be shown mercy later in  life when they start studying calculus and realize how ridiculously clueless you are and you have to call in for reinforcements.   

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



To read my other thoughts about teaching math to disinterested and ungrateful children, go here.

This is the expression I get to stare out all during math class most days.  It makes me think of Kanye's poignant and inspiring ballad Golddigger:

He got that ambition, baby, look in his eyes
This week he mopping floors next week it's the fries

Let's keep the hope alive, people.  And Happy Friday to all the teachers!  Let's go do this thing!

Baby Turns 5

And then there's this guy.

Who turns 5 today.

I mean, have you ever?

In all of my life I have never fallen so hard and so fast for a boy.

But this boy is special.  Because he's my last.

That's how he feels that he's the last.  I know, Baby.  I know.  

I'm older and wiser.  My crows feet have sunk in and I have to color my hair every 6 weeks rather than every 3 months to cover the gray.  My abs refuse to be beat into submission and my career wardrobe is comprised of yoga pants and overly large t-shirts.  I am no longer the new mom with toddlers.  The one with the hip diaper bag or the stroller that converts into a wet bar.  I am the 'experienced' mom.  The one that continues to screw up all the time, I just have learned how to fake it better.

But no amount of experience could prepare me for the punch in the gut love I have for this child.  This Yahoo of mine.

I love the way he talks.  How he says the 'b' sound for his 'j', how he belts out 'Jesus Creep'  when we're cranking DC Talk.  I love his kisses and hugs, because they are few and far between from this rough around the edges punk.  I love his green eyes and crooked teeth.  I love kissing the scar on his chin from the stitches he endured.  Wounds received too early in life.  I love being the one to wipe away the tears and remove the splinters and brush the oatmeal out of his hair.  I love being the one to rub his back when his belly hurts.  Or the one he runs to when his heart hurts.  I love that no matter how many friends he makes and how many girls he dates, no one else gets to be his mother. I love that he weighs next to nothing.  That way I can pretend he isn't growing up so fast.

But he is growing up.  Five.  Such a milestone.  Learning to read, his first hunting trip with his daddy, learning to swim on his own.

I've held you so long, Baby.  And now you get to do things on your own.  As you pull away from the edge of the pool to tackle the deep end, I will be waiting there for you, cheering you on.  When you traverse the woods with BB gun in hand I will wait in anticipation to see the big kill you bring home.  And I will sit with you all day long as you master those complicated phonics sounds.

I will be right here.  Cheering, applauding, coaching, praying.

But on those other days.  When the waves seem too large or the words just won't come.  When you have nothing to show from your hard days work....I'll still be right here.  Cheering, applauding, coaching, praying.

Because you, Baby Yahoo, are the apple of my eye.  And I won't quit you.  Not ever.

So Happy 5th Birthday, Baby.  I pray for you that you meet the Lord all throughout this year.  As we read Bible stories together, as you explore His creation, as you hear the crickets on the cool summer nights.  I pray He meets you everywhere this exciting year takes you.

The Parable of the Lost Resource CD

So summer is winding down.

Did you hear that?  It was the collective groans from the teachers around the globe.

Including home school teachers.

But this also ushers in my favorite time of year:  lesson planning.

Lesson planning is my guilty pleasure.  I love looking for great resources and laying out what we'll cover and books we'll read and math problems we'll solve.  I love putting it down on paper.  I love working the jigsaw puzzle that will be our schedule for the year.  Trying to determine how to fit in class work, chores, sports, music, church, family, friends into a 24 hour day.  And then after weeks of planning and rearranging and planning again, I print out the final copy...my magnum opus of plans.... and feeling very accomplished exhale a 'it is finished'.

But not this year.  This year things went funky.

It started off well.  Pondering and praying over the year ahead.  Reading and researching the best resources.  Browsing and bargain shopping to find the best deals.  And a few weeks ago I got all my stuff in the mail.  It was time.  Time to lay it all out before me.  Like a tiny baby island surrounded by the massive sea, I would surround myself with these books and workbooks and abacuses (abaci???  Whatever).  Time to flip through the pages and play with the manipulatives and make copies. And for this school nerd, it leaves me feeling a little buzzed.

But not this year.  Because this year as I was bobbing out there in my sea of curriculum something was missing.   My resource CD.  My Classical Conversations resource CD, people.  A new, still shrink wrapped set of 3 CD's that contains all my print outs for the year!!!  I had bought it a few weeks prior.  It had been laying by my computer....or was it on the table in the hallway....or in the basement?   No matter, it had been here.  And now it wasn't.  Not cool.

So I looked around.  On my book shelves, under couch cushions, in laundry baskets, in the pantry.  No luck.  But I did find some chocolate chips. Score.  With no avail, I attempted to go in with reinforcements.  My recruitment strategy:  sighing a lot and continually walking in front of the TV so The Yahoos might decide to help me look.  No luck.  So I told them I would pay a dollar to the person who found it.  All I got were eye rolls.  I forget they aren't 3 anymore.  I tried to get The Honey to care but that wasn't really getting anywhere with him until I told him it cost $30.  He moves pretty fast when dollar signs are involved.  But even with him....nothing.

So I thought I'd please Jesus and pray about it.

And boy did I.  With eyes closed and head bowed and hands grasped tight I began pleading that he would rescue my CD from the terrible abyss it had apparently fallen into.  With each request that He bring it home quickly and with repeated acknowledgment that He was the only one who knew where it was, my passion within grew.  I was being such a good little Christian.  Jesus must be so happy.

But not really.  Because no sooner had I uttered those words did I feel Him....no lie, almost literally feel Him... stoop down in front of me and gently touch those grasped hands and say "We'll get to that CD in a minute.   But can I ask you, why don't you pray for lost souls the way you are begging for this lost CD?"

And there it was.

When the Lord meets you you can't help but see Him for who He is and you for who you are.  I no longer was a tiny island surrounded by my trinkets of distractions, but a lone sinner drifting in a sea of my sin.  He was right.  I couldn't remember the last time I had pleaded that sincerely and earnestly for those that don't know Him.  Listen to me....even my own children.  What is wrong with  me?

Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

Matthew 6:19-21

His voice, that simple question, it haunted me all day.  Never condemning, only convicting.  Grace that brought me to the throne of God.  And confession is so good for this soul.  In love, God awakened me to my Pharisee heart.  Like a shepherd uses the crook of his staff to turn his sheep back towards him, My Good Shepherd used a lost CD to meet me face to face.

I still haven't found that CD.  And I honestly hope I never do.  Because it is my Ebenezer.   My reminder to stop getting distracted by the things in this world and to start getting serious about the people in it.

Suppose a woman has ten silver coins, but she loses one of them. She will take a light and clean the house. She will look carefully for the coin until she finds it.  And when she finds it, she will call her friends and neighbors and say to them, ‘Be happy with me because I have found the coin that I lost!’  In the same way, it’s a happy time for the angels of God when one sinner decides to change.”

Luke 15:8-10

Rehab

Red Sox game.  Do we scream 'freedom'?

A few weeks ago The Honey and I got a chance to go to Boston.

Business for him, vacation for me.

We did manage to travel up a day early so we could have some time to sight see before he got busy with meetings and other top secret CIA missions.

Boston is a great city.  Lots of history, the beautiful harbor front, plenty of sports.

We took in a Red Sox game, strolled through Boston Common and along the Harbor.  We went to Harvard's campus and wondered what it would be like to be smart.

OK....I wondered what it would be like to be smart.

But most importantly we ate.  Boston has so much great food.  I am for this.  Any city that has great food is worthy of my vacation time.


And for your enjoyment.....Fenway Park singing Sweet Caroline.  The video is not great quality, mainly because of the half lit people around us.  But they sound so good, don't ya think?  We had to video it for our  Sweet Yahoo.  Which she loved.  Bless.

And I will go ahead and answer the number one question I get when we go away...
           
                                                   Are you taking the children?


Deep sigh.

What kind of vacation would it be, people, if I took the children with me?

No.  No I didn't take the children.  Hallelujah and Amen.

And it was..... fabulous.

 There, I said it.  Yes!  I enjoy being away from my kids from time to time.  And do you know what?  They enjoy being away from me.  Because they have these grandparents that have cable and poptarts and actually listen to them when they talk.  It's a win win for all of us.

But here's the thing.  After a week of pigging out on Cheetos and A.N.T. Farm, The Yahoos needed some rehab.

And for those of you reading that have little people and might be wondering if your own child needs rehab, here are some signs and symptoms of overly intoxicated children:

1.  If your child gives you a blank, blinking stare when you tell them to go do their chores, as if you are speaking another language or they have mysteriously turned into a pigeon.

2.  If the words 'whatever' or 'as if' or 'like' make up more than 77% of their lexicon.

3.  Noticeable tremors and twitching when you tell them you have no more Poptarts.

Rehab.  One week.  No TV, no iPad, no computer.

As far as the sugar goes....well....we didn't want to go too crazy.  They are children.  We chose to limit desserts to once a day.

And here's the deal.  I don't think they missed it that much.  There were a few hours of boredom, but eventually they got desperate enough to go find something to do.  Or, if they didn't and kept complaining I did find things for them to do.  Like weed the garden or rub my feet.

I wish I could tell you electronic rehab created world peace or fixed Kim Kardashian's plastic surgery addiction.  It did not.  But it was definitely quieter.  We had more conversations.  Thought provoking conversations.  Not conversations about how we can schedule our day around the Good Luck, Charlie marathon.

I tell you all this to say....Don't be afraid of The Rehab!  Tearing yourself away from Disney and even Food Network (gasp) probably won't kill you.  In fact, you might even feel like you are a little more alive.

My CC Blog

The last three days I have been hanging out with some fairly fantastic women at Classical Conversations (CC) Practicum.

I know what you're going to say.

"Mama, you keep mentioning this Classical Conversations thing.  You keep promising you will tell us about it.  Spill it, already!"

Fine.  I'll give you one paragraph.  But just one and that's it.  Because there are lots of, well, basically brilliant women who have whole entire blogs devoted to CC stuff.  Like my friend Melody here.   I read these ladies often.  Because I need more brilliant in my life.  But this is not that kind of blog.  This blog is more of a curl up on the couch with your bag of chocolate chips and jar of peanut butter while you occasionally snort a little from laughing too much.  Very little brilliance going on here.

So here it is.  CC is a community of homeschooling families who gather together as we teach our kids with a Classically Christian approach.  Well, what does that mean?  Basically we teach the main subjects (math, history, science, geography, Latin, grammar, fine arts) with an emphasis on having the kids memorize the crucial piece of information in the formative years, and then gradually building on that as the children develop mentally and logically.  What that looks like is that in grades K-6 the kids memorize information from each of the 6 or 7 subject areas. They are learning the who, what, and wheres of things.  By the middle school years the students are ready to take those pegs of knowledge they have gathered and begin to connect them together.  The whys and hows.  Then by high school they can go to the next level by using this understanding to impart truth and wisdom and beauty using rhetorical arguments and communication.

Did I make that sound more daunting than it actually is?  I hope not.  Because CC is not overwhelming.  Challenging?  Yes.  But not overwhelming.  In fact, CC provided the challenge and accountability our family was ready for.  When the kids were young I tried several different co-ops because I was under the delusional idea that we needed to be socialized.  I was wrong.  Because between sports and church and cousins and grocery shopping and library story time.....I was over the socialization.

 Secondly, I was still so insecure in my abilities as the kids' educator.  Every time some other mom told me about some great curriculum or strategy they were using I would feel this pressure that I should try that too.  So we bounced around alot,  A complete disservice to my kids and complete chaos to me.

So the past few years we have been keeping things simple.  We were sticking with the curriculum that was working for us.  We were in our groove.  It felt good.  But then I felt this pulling toward CC.  I can't explain it.  It was the same pulling I felt when we were making our decision to home school.   I can't put words to it.  I just know how it feels.  So I researched blogs and websites and asked my CC friends a bazillion questions and prayed and made pro/con lists and had lots of conversations with the voices in my head over if this was the right fit for our family.

They all said yes.

This past August we took that small step of faith.  And it was....delightful.  My kids loved making friends.  I loved making friends.  They flourished under the weight of the challenge and responsibility of the material like a flower flourishes under the heaviness of good soil and steady rain.  They were encouraged by their teachers and classmates.  It was such a breath of fresh air to our little family.

In April we had a little celebration to show the families of the students what they had learned during the year. We said goodbye to some friends that wouldn't be returning.  We ate some cookies.  It was nice.

Here's a 2 minute clip of the kids reciting one week of their memory work.  You might notice that all ages recite the same work.  This, my friends, is the beauty of CC.  All the kids are learning the same material.  The older ones can just go a little deeper with it.  This makes things so much easier  on the teacher of this one room schoolhouse.

Before you view.....It looks like I might have been a little nervous and/or alot drunk while filming.  My apologies.  

And before I leave you I will just have to plug and say that two of my children committed themselves to becoming Memory Masters this year.  A Memory Master is a student or parent that memorizes 24 weeks of information for each of the 7 subjects.  It is a daunting challenge and not for the faint of heart.  But they did it and I am so proud of them.  And humbled that God would choose me to be their mother.  I don't feel qualified, folks, and that's the truth.  But each day sweet Jesus equips The Honey and I to raise these children up in Him.  I just can't put words to the joy that brings me.

I am proud of all of them, but mainly of Baby for being so stinking incredibly cute with that look on his face.  Also, did you faint from seeing Ninja in a tie?

So there it is.  My CC paragraph that exploded into a full on post.  Obviously I do not summarize well.  But hopefully it was worth the read.  If you are interested in home schooling or in CC, please let me know.  I'd love to talk with you about it.  You can find more information about CC here.

Where the Milk and Words Finally Flow

I have sat down here probably six times in the last two months.  I have tried to type words.  I have.  But nothing.  I got nothing.  I feel like I'm in Senior Comp class again with Mrs. Emerson and I have a paper due. So like I did my senior year, I'm just going to throw out something and hope for the best.

Soooo.....where to start?

 Last we left, I was getting a part time, temporary job to pay for LASIK.

Done.

 I worked.  It was.....chaotic.  The lessons I learned from being a working woman are for another blog post.

But I got the LASIK.   The LASIK,  people!  Get THE LASIK!  Because I am for sight.  It's all Glory and Hallelujahs and Amens.

Honestly, it was a wonderful experience (minus the 6 hours I had the Valium in my system which might have involved lots of incoherent speech and drooling and paralysis and lip smacking).

One week later I walked into a metal pole and broke my nose, suffering a minor concussion.  Apparently the LASIK hadn't had it's full effect.

During this time we continued to plug away at school.  And finish up our first year of Classical Conversations.  My thoughts about CC and what we learned there are for another post as well.

OK.  I think that catches us up.

And since school is out and we apparently have nothing to do, our latest endeavor?

The Family Cow.

I was sold a bill of goods this sweet thing and two babies a few weeks back.

 As you might remember, we got our first calf a year ago.  We learned a lot that year about the care and raising of cattle then, but a dairy cow is a whole new ball of wax.  Now I could take the easy, smart, rational approach and just let these calves feed off the mother.  It would be simple.  It would be beautiful.  But no.  I chose the road less traveled.  And I am certainly losing sleep over it.  I am trying my hand at milking.

Dramatic pause as you contemplate my idiot plan amazing talent at homesteading.

And I have to say, so far no one has died from parasites or a kick to the head.  We have taken many more showers than usual.  Because the poop situation going on here is off the hook.  I've also learned more than I ever wanted to know about mastitis, fly control, and pasteurization.  Plus, the vocabulary in our home has been effected by it.  Sweet Yahoo keeps saying the word 'teats' over and over again.  And amazingly the boys are fixated on the feel and look of her udder.

But I wouldn't change it for anything.  I love every day I go to the barn and get to take my Granny's milk strainer with me.  Her milk strainer.  The one she used for years milking her own cows.  The one that cleaned the milk that she offered me when we would stay at her house.  The milk that tasted sweet and creamy and good.  Full of her goodness.

The Yahoos are loving helping.  At least for now.  And we know how slow and tedious wonderfully efficient it can be when 4 kids want to help.  But it is fun and I am blessed and this is what I want my kids growing up to know.  Work and appreciation for the land and the Giver of it.

So there goes.  Words on virtual paper.  I hope you are easier on me than Mrs. Emerson was.

This Is Me Getting A Job

So an opportunity has risen for me to get a job.

Not like a real job where I have to go to work every morning, day after day, for 20+ years to put food on the table.  No.  Rather a part time, temporary, flexible hours, total of 15 shifts where by I could earn a little extra money.

What, you may ask, would motivate me to put some extra crazy into our already lively lifestyle?

Is it to help make ends meet?  To help pay for my kids' college?  To give to missions?

Nope. Nope. And.....nope.

In a word....LASIK.

I'm blind people.  Honestly, my vision is right up there with.....other nearly blind people.  And for 20 years I have been hassling contacts, glasses, squinting at the blinding sun, scrambling to find my glasses in the middle of the night just like Velma on Scooby Doo when some sick kid comes crying at me.  And so I had enough already.

I wish I could say starving children or college tuition motivated me.  Sadly, I am realizing that convenience is a much more juicy carrot.

Really though, this was a difficult decision to make.  I don't like things that are out of my comfort zone.  And getting up more than one morning a week to put on something besides yoga pants is outside the realm of my comfort zone.  The children also crossed my mind.  But I realized there are some pros to stepping outside the confines of this Crazy Town that I am mayor of.

1.  The gift of sight.  I believe we have already covered that.

2.  Becoming more appreciate.  Of me.  Seriously the children are going to have to appreciate me after all this is over.  Because who will be supervising them while I'm away?  None other but The Honey.  The Honey, I'm tellin' ya.  This is the same man that lectured our first born when he was 6 months old on why it is entirely inappropriate to yell at your toys.  Also....the same man who dropped Sweet Yahoo on her head when she too was six months old because he liked flipping her around like he was making pizza dough.  Also....the same man who took 'Life Skills' in high school to meet chics, or 'managed' the girls basketball team to also meet chics, OR had a pole vaulter shaved into the back of his hair in college To.Meet.Chics, or continues to dance The Running Man....on purpose.  For the love of peet.  You get my point.  So after 15 days they are surely to appreciate their normal, rational, stabilizing force of a mother.

3.  Different mouth sounds.  I am anxious to see what it is like to go 8 straight hours without hearing someone yell 'Someone come wipe my butt!' from the bathroom.  Surely that won't happen, right?  I refuse to wipe anyone else's butt just because I'm good at it.  No, instead, I'd like to broaden my skills.  To find out what it's like to talk to adults for over 23 seconds without shushing someone or giving 'The eye'.

Don't get me wrong.  I am aware of the sacrifices that will have to be made.  The laundry and dishes are sure to suffer.  The children will probably end up watching way more Shake it Up and GI Joe than any normal person should watch in a lifetime.  But again...it's 15 days people.   We can do this thing.  Our little family can all rally together and come completely unglued so that Mama can see.  It's gonna be like Mary on Little House when she got her glasses for the first time.  I honestly think I'm gonna yell out

"I can see, Pa!  I can see!"

Just to clarify, though, for those that don't know me well.  I sometimes cope through self-deprecating humor with a touch of sarcasm thrown in.  

And this is me coping.  Because getting this temporary job is a big marker in my life.  And to be completely honest....I am overwhelmingly sad about it.

For 11 years now I have stayed at home with my babies.  And I love it.  I really do.  Because even on the worst days I still have the satisfaction of knowing I got to teach them that fractions are not quite so brutal. Or those few weeks we helped Little Middle say his 'l' sound rather than 'w' and he gradually went from saying Carowine to Caroline.  Or the hundreds of times we played duck duck goose or hide and seek.  Or having Baby do dishes beside me at the sink.  It is beyond words fantastic.

Defeating the pudding cup

And after 11 years of this I had kind of felt like I had obtained my doctorate in  preschoolers.  I understood the process of teaching phonics and tying shoes.  I had developed the uncanny skill of knowing the difference between an 'I need stitches' cry and a 'I need a hug' one.  I embraced Curious George and pudding cups as our afternoon past time.  I became good at my craft.

But tomorrow.  Driving away from home.  I'll be laying down the pudding cups and crayons for a while.  A painful reminder that I am soon retiring from this profession of Preschooldom.  And moving on into something new.  Something foreign.  More than just a job, these days will usher in for me that I am now a mom to tweens.  Tweens....already.  I can't even believe it.  And I am certainly not a professional at it.  I am starting out at the ground level here.  

Leaving behind the known for something unfamiliar is hard for me.  I used to love starting new stuff.  I got bored easily and restless.  After a few moves and a few more babies and all the changes that come along with that I soon realized that it is never as difficult as we think it is.  And every new opportunity presents new challenges.  A constant reminder we must rely on Jesus to get us through.  

So it seems that is how me and my family will make it through the next 15 shifts....and 15 years after that.  Us and Jesus.  One unfamiliar journey after another.  And in the end we will have new sight.  Just of the eternal kind. 

I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will guide them; I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth. These are the things I will do; I will not forsake them.

Isaiah 42:6

Beautiful Day

I preface what I am about to say by saying that I realize I am not a military wife..or widow...or a single mom.  There are lots of other people whose lots in life are far worse than mine.

OK, then.  Let's get started.

The past couple of weeks were hard.  The Honey has to travel some with his work.  Usually just a few days a month.  Sometimes a week.  But it's not terrible.  And it has been better since he changed posts to working at the home office.  Having him home makes the days he travels much more bearable.  But this last 'mission' sent him off for two weeks.

Insert beat head on keyboard.

He missed Little Middle's only 8th birthday, their first day back to CC, and the coldest two days in history. 

We missed his goofball stories and Monday night throw downs and the calm he brings to our lives.

All week long I just lived in hope of Thursday night.  Truth be told, there is no sweeter sound than the rumble of that Dodge Ram as is comes driving in.  I can hear him shift from 2nd to 1st as he pulls up the drive.  And with it, a long exhale. From both of us.

Needless to say, we all set aside Friday for reentry.  To spend time together and catch up on each other's week. 

Like how the kids had trapped an  opossum underneath the shed and left it there for The Honey to shoot when he got home.

Or how the cow chewed the cord to the heater of his water trough into 16 pieces.....and lived to tell about it.

Or how his work was hard....grueling even....and he had to pull and all nighter to write a bunch of documents that no one could understand.  Or how he forgot what hotel room number he was in...again.

And what better way to reunite than to shoot an opossum and then go snow tubing on the back of a 4 wheeler. Take a look if you dare.  The video quality is poor and might make you a little motion sick.

This, my friends, was a good day.  A much needed, overdue, take your breath away, blog worthy kind of day.  After the two long weeks, it was just what we needed.

And isn't that what hope is?   Resting in the blessed assurance that He will exchange the hurt for the healing and the beauty for ashes.  Look what Scripture says about Him:

The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me,
    because the Lord has anointed me
to bring good news to the poor;[a]
    he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim liberty to the captives,
    and the opening of the prison to those who are bound;[b]
 to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor,
    and the day of vengeance of our God;
    to comfort all who mourn;

to grant to those who mourn in Zion—
    to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
    the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit;
that they may be called oaks of righteousness,    the planting of the Lord, that he may be glorified.

Isaiah 61:1-3

I'm looking forward to more of the beautiful He brings.

Dear Facebook: It's Not You, It's Me

It's been a long time coming, but Facebook and I are through.

At least for now.

There are a number of reasons I am quitting social media.  But namely it is because I need less distractions in my life.  And I let FB be a distraction for me.

And as ridiculous as it sounds I will miss FB.  Being a mom that works from home leaves me feeling a little isolated at times.  FB gives me a break from reality and a glimpse of what life on the outside looks like.  So in case I miss life changing news like Pioneer Woman is going to stop cooking or there is a lifetime supply of Reese Cup giveaway, please, for the love of all things holy and chocolate.....call me!

But in case the 3 of you who read this blog are beginning to panic that you won't get to have your usual irregular installments of crazy Yahoo stories, rest assured I will continue to blog.  Because I don't consider my blog social media, but rather a scrapbook of sorts.  At least that's how I justify it;)  But if you want to keep up to date with us, please subscribe to the blog.  All you have to do is have it sent to your email inbox. If you (meaning, Mom) need help with that let me know and I'll walk you through it.

And because I'm curious....is anyone else out there working on making in changes in their lives this year?

Happy New Facebook Free New Year to you!