We've all heard that little voice; at least, I hope, we've all heard that little voice. You know the one that urges you to call the friend whose name suddenly jumps into your head, and now, you can't shake the feeling that she needs to talk to someone, but not just anyone, you. Sometimes the voice prods you to take a different running route where you discover a distraught mom outside of her broken-down car frantically pressing the power button on her cell phone, the one that she forgot to charge that morning. Moments that are beyond ordinary coincidences; moments when you know that voice was the sweet sound of the Holy Spirit.
I'm ashamed to admit that I've often ignored that voice or didn't hear it because I was too busy doing something important like checking out the most recent pictures of my friend's children on Facebook. Things that clearly need immediate attention. Lately, I've been prayerfully seeking to really hear and discern what the Holy Spirit has planned for me on a daily basis. Often, I'll sense Him prodding me toward a certain task, one where I stop and ask, "Really? Are you sure?" Usually, the task requires me to step out of my comfort zone and continue running for about 100 miles until I'm no longer in the same area code with said comfort zone. The message will come across loud and clear, and just to be sure, I'll pray about it. "This.....this is what I need to do, Lord?" "Yes." So, I'll pick up my Bible, open it, and pray, "If this is really from you Lord, allow me to receive confirmation."
Take today for instance; I felt the urge to call and offer my unrequested minimal assistance in a small mission opportunity. My first thought was but that person will think I've lost my ever-loving mind. What if they think I'm a weirdo? Apparently, I'm still working on getting over worrying about what people think of me, which is clearly a requirement for true Christian service.....and let's face it I am a weirdo. So I prayed to be sure, and the feeling didn't abate. To make doubly sure, I decided to read one more page in my bible study to see if I received any ground-breaking epiphany of confirmation, which I did, so much so that I got chills from head to toe and paused to put my hands in the air in a moment of praise. Then I decided to dry my hair and pray one more time.....just to be sure. Finally, I grabbed my cell phone and checked my email. Realizing it was now or never, I dialed with shaking fingers and a wildly beating heart, my acquaintance's number and discovered wonderful possibilities for true, meaningful mission work to be done in Haiti. I mean, seriously, what was I really afraid of? It was just so far beyond my comfort zone that I struggled to be obedient.
How many kingdom-building opportunities am I missing because basically I'm afraid of what people might think? Will they think I'm just trying to show how righteous I am? Will they think I'm crazy to think I could pull that off? Insecurity rears its ugly head every time I think I hear the Spirit speak. And, I want to shout to myself: it's not about you!!!! It's about Him! But, I'm trying to focus on listening more intently and obeying because by hearing and obeying, I am rewarded beyond measure with the opportunity to serve Christ in truly tangible ways. That trumps insecurity every time!
Speaking of missional living, perhaps I've mentioned this book I read by Jen Hatmaker called 7? (And just when you thought I was finally going to write a post shorter than 20 paragraphs....) If you like me have never considered what it really means when the tag in your sweater says Made in China, this book is truly eye-opening. One aspect that really spoke to me was the idea of becoming a more aware consumer, especially the concept of fair trade. There are a plethora of opportunities to shop in ways that allow you to participate in both kingdom-building and in empowering men and women across the world to build small businesses that benefit their villages. These artisans create beautiful goods and are offered a fair, sustainable wage for their products. Many of the websites that I will list in a moment are run by churches and Christian organizations that have partnered with villages in developing nations, and many of the profits from sales are used to provide care for orphans. So I encourage you to consider some of these sites when Christmas shopping and to learn more about fair trade and how partnering to build business relationships with artisans in these countries also provides an excellent opportunity to both spread and live the gospel.
http://livefashionable.com
http://www.cometogethertrading.com
http://www.redearthtradingco.com
http://www.furnacehillscoffee.com/index
http://preemptivelove.org
www.noondaycollection.com
http://goodnewsgoods.com
www.theopenarmshop.com
www.meadscorner.com
www.commonthreadz.com
www.Groobs.com
www.globalgirlfriend.com
www.3seams.com
http://www.ravenandlily.com
http://www.numanainc.com
http://www.pyxispath.com
www.tradeasone.com
www.thehungersite.org
www.funkyfishdesigns.com
www.bethejoy.com
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Saturday, November 3, 2012
What Breaks Your Heart?
You can blame what my husband is lovingly donning my mid-life crisis on Kelly Minter and Jen Hatmaker. I don't know these girls personally, and I am sure they are lovely ladies, but their books and suggestions have turned my world on its head. Blame is a strong word...I guess, if anything, I feel they inspired a big movement of the Holy Spirit in my life.
It began as a simple, yet sincere prayer, prompted by Kelly Minter's bible study on Nehemiah. "Lord, break my heart for what breaks Yours." That was it; my offering to the Lord. At first, not much happened. This prayer was followed a few weeks later by a simple question to my Sunday School class, while mediating a study on The Hunger Games (so in an odd way, Suzanne Collins also bears some of the fault for this epiphany). "Why is the church failing to transform our culture, which clearly seems to be crumbling all around us?" A simple, rhetorical question where, like any good teacher, I had no real answer to supply. After Sunday school, a dear friend asked if I had heard of Jen Hatmaker, to which I replied, "Yes, I follow her on Twitter." The next thing I know I'm reading her book Interrupted, and then suddenly, wham, I am on the floor of my room in fetal position, rocking back and forth in a fit of self-condemnation, wondering how I've spent my entire life in the church, 29 years as a Christian, and missed the whole point. Or, to quote Hatmaker, "[God] turned my undiagnosed tension into a full-blown spiritual crisis." I find myself not in a midlife crisis but in a spiritual one, one that reveals that I have sorely neglected my call to love the least of these......
If you're confused, join many of my friends and family and allow me to explain in a completely manic and jumbled way because frankly, that's how I'm feeling right now: jumbled and manic. Interrupted and 7 like, Radical by David Platt, and Crazy Love by Francis Chan, all of which I read soon after reading Hatmaker, examine the church vs. the American Dream. Have we become so complacent pursuing.....stuff.....that we've completely missed the boat on what our Christianity is meant to be? I realized I was using the "Word to defend my life rather than define it" (Hatmaker). It became clear to me that what was breaking God's heart was my lack of obedience to the Word. I mean, if the church is being responsive to the call to love the least of these how can stats like the following even exist:
* Of the 6 billion people on Earth, about 1.2 billion live on $.23 a day.
* Half the world lives on less than $2 a day
* Someone dies of hunger every 16 SECONDS!
* Last year 22 million people died of preventable diseases: 10 million were children
*27 million children and adults are trapped in slavery; more today than ever before!
* More than 143 million children in the world have been orphaned or abandoned
* 40 percent of the world lacks basic water sanitation, resulting in disease, death, and loss of immunity, while Americans consume 26 billion liters of bottled water a DAY
* 40 million people die annually from starvation, disease, and malnutrition, while 65% of American adults are overweight (Hatmaker)
Don't even get me started on the billions of people who have never heard or accepted the gospel; people who are lost. Hello?! Church, where are we? Where am I? I can't tell you the last time I really shared the gospel with someone, and I have family and friends who I know are lost, yet I seem more concerned with my 401K than the fact that someone dies of hunger every 16 seconds.
I felt the Holy Spirit like never before reminding me that faith without works is dead, that Jesus came to serve, not be served, that I must take up the cross and deny self. I asked God to break my heart for what breaks His and for two weeks, I've felt like what Jacob must have felt like wrestling with God about what it truly means to die to self and live for Christ. The Holy Spirit has been revealing that, like the Pharisees, my knowledge of the Scriptures, my self-righteous condemnation of all who just "don't get it" amount to nothing without mercy and justice. You see, I'm embarrassed to say, for years, I read, let my good "works" shine before men so they may see them and glorify God, as my works being "my" goodness, my obedience to legal rules of not drinking to excess, swearing, or being seen in places I shouldn't be seen to attending every bible study in town. For the first time, it hit me, my good works are not about me or my warped sense of self-righteousness, my works are justice, kindness, mercy, and service. The least of these!
During the past few weeks, I feel as though God has begun separating the wheat from the chaff in my life, and I am being shaken all over the threshing floor, knowing that through His grace and mercy what will eventually remain is the good stuff, but the emotional winnowing is leaving me raw emotionally. Just ask my husband who actually had to take over reading the bible for me during Sunday school, so I could sob over my revelation. God has brought me to brokenness, is bringing me to the end of self, so he can recreate me in the mission of Christ. The Holy Spirit is revealing what in me is breaking his heart and breaking mine over it. I can't quite explain the battle that's ensued, but I have found myself in a fit of simultaneous rebellion and surrender. "Yes, Lord, send me." "No, I can't give that up."
Keep in mind, this is my jumbled, raw making sense of the Holy Spirit at work, so I don't want to get into legalism vs. freedom here, but I'm feeling the strong call of Christ to live Matthew 25 and Isaiah 58, not because I have to, but because Jesus told me in John, if I love him I will obey Him. "Having been freed from sin, I am enslaved to righteousness" Romans 6:17 Basically, if Christ is in me then I have been transformed, which means I can't continue to live life as though Christ isn't at work in me. I can no longer live "with an anemic faith and in a church that robs Christ followers of vitality and repels the rest of the world" (Hatmaker) ; it's contrary to the very faith I claim to have. While I feel that I've been a "good" Christian by comfortable American standards, I've not been living radically transformed, and that, I believe, is what the Holy Spirit revealed is breaking His heart, where I'm concerned. Hatmaker writes, "If we've learned anything from the rebellious nation of Israel.....it is this: God is supremely concerned with our motives, and our works only count when they match our intentions. There is no back door into salvation, rerouted around the sacrifice of Christ. Otherwise, the whole earth could gain heaven by good works, and His day on the cross would be pointless." So, yes, I am saved by grace through faith, not by works, but my faith without works is dead. I'm ready to serve in love and because I love the wonderful Savior who sacrificed all for me.
The two greatest commands are to love the Lord my God with all my heart, soul, and mind then to love my neighbor as myself. My neighbor has been the sweet little microcosm of my family, which is important, but there's a big city, a big state, a big world out there that needs serving and saving. It's time to change, which is frightening, but I love what Brandon Hatmaker says in Interrupted, "The good news is that God can be found right in the middle of it as well. God does not change, but He uses change to change us. He sends us on journeys that bring us to the end of ourselves. We often feel out of control, yet if we embrace His leading, we may find ourselves on the ride of our lives."
I'm ready for the ride of my life. I'm tired of being consumed with what everyone else thinks, with what sort of impression I (there's that selfish obsession creeping back in) make. I'm tired of looking to stuff to fill a void that can only be filled by God and service to Him. Seriously, how many pair of boots does one girl need. My daughter has three coats and two zip-hooded fleece....seriously?! I'm tired of giving "just enough." I'm ready to give until it hurts. I'm tired of "demonstrating religiosity without transformation." I'm tired of claiming to be different because of Christ, while keeping one foot firmly planted in the world. Since when do I care so much about fitting in? This is the girl who wore wooden clogs and knee boots in middle school to be different. As Hatmaker points out, "Jesus never fit in. He was never the cool guy." That's something I can embrace; seriously, cool eluded me the minute I put on a sparkly, silver sweater with sequins sewn on (by my sweet mom) in the outline of a saxophone to go to a band dance. Need I say more?
So what does this mean for me, for the Johnsons? I've been overpowered by the Holy Spirit, and I can't describe the rush of love and joy I'm feeling by beginning the process of resurrendering to His call on my life; that it's not about climbing the ladder of success to a wealthy retirement and kids who are set on the same path. It's about loving and serving and teaching my children to love and serve period. What does that look like for us? I don't know, yet, but I can assure you I'm praying for God to reveal what's next. Today and everyday, I'm prayerfully considering how my family and I can serve in His name each day in our everyday lives. I plan to follow this process on the blog, as well as my journey homeschooling, among other things. I want to leave you with the text of Matthew 25 and Isaiah 58 and ask that you will consider asking God to break your heart for what is breaking His and that together we may begin the process of transforming the church to become more missional and thus, transform the world.
Matthew 25: 35-40
Then the king will say to those on his right, "Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me. Then the righteous will answer him, "Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or naked and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and visit you? And the king will answer them, I tell you the truth, just as you did for one of the least of these brothers or sisters of mine, you did it for me."
Isaiah 58:6-10
No, this is the kind of fast I want. I want you to remove the sinful chains, to tear away the ropes of the burdensome yoke, to set free the oppressed, and to break every burdensome yoke. I want you to share your food with the hungry and to provide shelter for homeless, oppressed people. When you see someone naked, clothe him! Don't turn your back on your own flesh and blood! Then your light will shine like the sunrise, your restoration will quickly arrive; your godly behavior will go before you, and the Lord's splendor will be your rear guard. Then you will call out, and the Lord will respond; you will cry out , and he will reply, "Here I am." You must remove the burdensome yoke from among you and stop pointing fingers and speaking sinfully. You must actively help the hungry and feed the oppressed. Then your light will dispel the darkness, and your darkness will be transformed into noonday.
James 2: 14-18
What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if someone claims to have faith but does not have works? Can this kind of faith save him? If a brother or sister is poorly clothed or lacks daily food, and one of you says to them, "Go in peace, keep warm and eat well," but you do not give them what the body needs, what good is it? So also faith, if it does not have works, is dead being by itself. But someone will say, "You have faith and I have works." Show me your faith without works and I will show you faith by my works.
It began as a simple, yet sincere prayer, prompted by Kelly Minter's bible study on Nehemiah. "Lord, break my heart for what breaks Yours." That was it; my offering to the Lord. At first, not much happened. This prayer was followed a few weeks later by a simple question to my Sunday School class, while mediating a study on The Hunger Games (so in an odd way, Suzanne Collins also bears some of the fault for this epiphany). "Why is the church failing to transform our culture, which clearly seems to be crumbling all around us?" A simple, rhetorical question where, like any good teacher, I had no real answer to supply. After Sunday school, a dear friend asked if I had heard of Jen Hatmaker, to which I replied, "Yes, I follow her on Twitter." The next thing I know I'm reading her book Interrupted, and then suddenly, wham, I am on the floor of my room in fetal position, rocking back and forth in a fit of self-condemnation, wondering how I've spent my entire life in the church, 29 years as a Christian, and missed the whole point. Or, to quote Hatmaker, "[God] turned my undiagnosed tension into a full-blown spiritual crisis." I find myself not in a midlife crisis but in a spiritual one, one that reveals that I have sorely neglected my call to love the least of these......
If you're confused, join many of my friends and family and allow me to explain in a completely manic and jumbled way because frankly, that's how I'm feeling right now: jumbled and manic. Interrupted and 7 like, Radical by David Platt, and Crazy Love by Francis Chan, all of which I read soon after reading Hatmaker, examine the church vs. the American Dream. Have we become so complacent pursuing.....stuff.....that we've completely missed the boat on what our Christianity is meant to be? I realized I was using the "Word to defend my life rather than define it" (Hatmaker). It became clear to me that what was breaking God's heart was my lack of obedience to the Word. I mean, if the church is being responsive to the call to love the least of these how can stats like the following even exist:
* Of the 6 billion people on Earth, about 1.2 billion live on $.23 a day.
* Half the world lives on less than $2 a day
* Someone dies of hunger every 16 SECONDS!
* Last year 22 million people died of preventable diseases: 10 million were children
*27 million children and adults are trapped in slavery; more today than ever before!
* More than 143 million children in the world have been orphaned or abandoned
* 40 percent of the world lacks basic water sanitation, resulting in disease, death, and loss of immunity, while Americans consume 26 billion liters of bottled water a DAY
* 40 million people die annually from starvation, disease, and malnutrition, while 65% of American adults are overweight (Hatmaker)
Don't even get me started on the billions of people who have never heard or accepted the gospel; people who are lost. Hello?! Church, where are we? Where am I? I can't tell you the last time I really shared the gospel with someone, and I have family and friends who I know are lost, yet I seem more concerned with my 401K than the fact that someone dies of hunger every 16 seconds.
I felt the Holy Spirit like never before reminding me that faith without works is dead, that Jesus came to serve, not be served, that I must take up the cross and deny self. I asked God to break my heart for what breaks His and for two weeks, I've felt like what Jacob must have felt like wrestling with God about what it truly means to die to self and live for Christ. The Holy Spirit has been revealing that, like the Pharisees, my knowledge of the Scriptures, my self-righteous condemnation of all who just "don't get it" amount to nothing without mercy and justice. You see, I'm embarrassed to say, for years, I read, let my good "works" shine before men so they may see them and glorify God, as my works being "my" goodness, my obedience to legal rules of not drinking to excess, swearing, or being seen in places I shouldn't be seen to attending every bible study in town. For the first time, it hit me, my good works are not about me or my warped sense of self-righteousness, my works are justice, kindness, mercy, and service. The least of these!
During the past few weeks, I feel as though God has begun separating the wheat from the chaff in my life, and I am being shaken all over the threshing floor, knowing that through His grace and mercy what will eventually remain is the good stuff, but the emotional winnowing is leaving me raw emotionally. Just ask my husband who actually had to take over reading the bible for me during Sunday school, so I could sob over my revelation. God has brought me to brokenness, is bringing me to the end of self, so he can recreate me in the mission of Christ. The Holy Spirit is revealing what in me is breaking his heart and breaking mine over it. I can't quite explain the battle that's ensued, but I have found myself in a fit of simultaneous rebellion and surrender. "Yes, Lord, send me." "No, I can't give that up."
Keep in mind, this is my jumbled, raw making sense of the Holy Spirit at work, so I don't want to get into legalism vs. freedom here, but I'm feeling the strong call of Christ to live Matthew 25 and Isaiah 58, not because I have to, but because Jesus told me in John, if I love him I will obey Him. "Having been freed from sin, I am enslaved to righteousness" Romans 6:17 Basically, if Christ is in me then I have been transformed, which means I can't continue to live life as though Christ isn't at work in me. I can no longer live "with an anemic faith and in a church that robs Christ followers of vitality and repels the rest of the world" (Hatmaker) ; it's contrary to the very faith I claim to have. While I feel that I've been a "good" Christian by comfortable American standards, I've not been living radically transformed, and that, I believe, is what the Holy Spirit revealed is breaking His heart, where I'm concerned. Hatmaker writes, "If we've learned anything from the rebellious nation of Israel.....it is this: God is supremely concerned with our motives, and our works only count when they match our intentions. There is no back door into salvation, rerouted around the sacrifice of Christ. Otherwise, the whole earth could gain heaven by good works, and His day on the cross would be pointless." So, yes, I am saved by grace through faith, not by works, but my faith without works is dead. I'm ready to serve in love and because I love the wonderful Savior who sacrificed all for me.
The two greatest commands are to love the Lord my God with all my heart, soul, and mind then to love my neighbor as myself. My neighbor has been the sweet little microcosm of my family, which is important, but there's a big city, a big state, a big world out there that needs serving and saving. It's time to change, which is frightening, but I love what Brandon Hatmaker says in Interrupted, "The good news is that God can be found right in the middle of it as well. God does not change, but He uses change to change us. He sends us on journeys that bring us to the end of ourselves. We often feel out of control, yet if we embrace His leading, we may find ourselves on the ride of our lives."
I'm ready for the ride of my life. I'm tired of being consumed with what everyone else thinks, with what sort of impression I (there's that selfish obsession creeping back in) make. I'm tired of looking to stuff to fill a void that can only be filled by God and service to Him. Seriously, how many pair of boots does one girl need. My daughter has three coats and two zip-hooded fleece....seriously?! I'm tired of giving "just enough." I'm ready to give until it hurts. I'm tired of "demonstrating religiosity without transformation." I'm tired of claiming to be different because of Christ, while keeping one foot firmly planted in the world. Since when do I care so much about fitting in? This is the girl who wore wooden clogs and knee boots in middle school to be different. As Hatmaker points out, "Jesus never fit in. He was never the cool guy." That's something I can embrace; seriously, cool eluded me the minute I put on a sparkly, silver sweater with sequins sewn on (by my sweet mom) in the outline of a saxophone to go to a band dance. Need I say more?
So what does this mean for me, for the Johnsons? I've been overpowered by the Holy Spirit, and I can't describe the rush of love and joy I'm feeling by beginning the process of resurrendering to His call on my life; that it's not about climbing the ladder of success to a wealthy retirement and kids who are set on the same path. It's about loving and serving and teaching my children to love and serve period. What does that look like for us? I don't know, yet, but I can assure you I'm praying for God to reveal what's next. Today and everyday, I'm prayerfully considering how my family and I can serve in His name each day in our everyday lives. I plan to follow this process on the blog, as well as my journey homeschooling, among other things. I want to leave you with the text of Matthew 25 and Isaiah 58 and ask that you will consider asking God to break your heart for what is breaking His and that together we may begin the process of transforming the church to become more missional and thus, transform the world.
Matthew 25: 35-40
Then the king will say to those on his right, "Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me. Then the righteous will answer him, "Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or naked and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and visit you? And the king will answer them, I tell you the truth, just as you did for one of the least of these brothers or sisters of mine, you did it for me."
Isaiah 58:6-10
No, this is the kind of fast I want. I want you to remove the sinful chains, to tear away the ropes of the burdensome yoke, to set free the oppressed, and to break every burdensome yoke. I want you to share your food with the hungry and to provide shelter for homeless, oppressed people. When you see someone naked, clothe him! Don't turn your back on your own flesh and blood! Then your light will shine like the sunrise, your restoration will quickly arrive; your godly behavior will go before you, and the Lord's splendor will be your rear guard. Then you will call out, and the Lord will respond; you will cry out , and he will reply, "Here I am." You must remove the burdensome yoke from among you and stop pointing fingers and speaking sinfully. You must actively help the hungry and feed the oppressed. Then your light will dispel the darkness, and your darkness will be transformed into noonday.
James 2: 14-18
What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if someone claims to have faith but does not have works? Can this kind of faith save him? If a brother or sister is poorly clothed or lacks daily food, and one of you says to them, "Go in peace, keep warm and eat well," but you do not give them what the body needs, what good is it? So also faith, if it does not have works, is dead being by itself. But someone will say, "You have faith and I have works." Show me your faith without works and I will show you faith by my works.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
The Next Martha.....
I blame Parents magazine, really, for planting false seeds of creativity in my mind. Their captions cajole, "It's So Easy; Projects to Do With Your Kids; Fun and Memorable." If I remember correctly, the caption under our jack-o-lantern project of choice read, "so easy to make, it's scary." The only thing scarier was manuvering the hot glue gun, while watching my preschooler cut poster board with safety scissors on my carpet. What better way to spend an October afternoon following a morning of homeschooling than on a pumpkin project?!
After gaining a dose of confidence for so easily navigating the aisles of our local craft store, I came home full of optimism and even said to my children as I lugged our pumpkin into the house, "Take that, Martha." This, of course, was greeted by questioning looks of who's Martha? Martha, I'd like to take this moment to apologize for my vain outburst of pride. To the other Martha-wannabes who were born with my inability to do something as simple as tastefully decorate a Christmas tree, allow me to share some of the lessons I learned, so you, too, don't think that following the large, clearly marked aisles at Hobby Lobby also make you a craft expert.
1. Two months of preschool does not make your son an expert in using scissors. On a project that should have taken twenty minutes start to finish, I spent forty of those minutes cleaning up tiny slivers of green streamers and poster board shavings, yes, shavings.
2. The adjective, hot, in hot glue gun is a descriptive term. Just ask the large blister on my forefinger.
3. If your parenting magazine of choice says a project is "kid friendly" have a good chuckle and be prepared to say, "Don't do that." "Don't touch that." "Yes, the glittery craft foam is for the pumpkin; that's why we bought it. No, I don't think there will be any left because Mommy used forty square inches trying to cut a hole in the middle of a square for the belt buckle." "Yes! The glue gun is hot." "Those are Mommy scissors not little boy scissors." and so on.....
4. Your three-year-old son's idea of neat and your idea of neat reside in separate, distant universes.
5. Your six-year-old daughter will grow bored with watching you attempt to glue streamers and a flat hat to the top of your very round pumpkin.
6. Repeat after me, "I am not Martha Stewart, I am not Martha Stewart." Don't be disappointed if despite your best efforts, your witch pumpkin looks just like your kids constructed it.
Actually, when all was said and done, the kids and I had a great time, and our witch pumpkin looks, well, like a witch pumpkin; granted in the time it took us to build ours, Martha could have whipped up pumpkin witches for the entire state of Connecticut. But, perfection was never the goal; it was to enjoy the afternoon with my sweet little ones.
After gaining a dose of confidence for so easily navigating the aisles of our local craft store, I came home full of optimism and even said to my children as I lugged our pumpkin into the house, "Take that, Martha." This, of course, was greeted by questioning looks of who's Martha? Martha, I'd like to take this moment to apologize for my vain outburst of pride. To the other Martha-wannabes who were born with my inability to do something as simple as tastefully decorate a Christmas tree, allow me to share some of the lessons I learned, so you, too, don't think that following the large, clearly marked aisles at Hobby Lobby also make you a craft expert.
1. Two months of preschool does not make your son an expert in using scissors. On a project that should have taken twenty minutes start to finish, I spent forty of those minutes cleaning up tiny slivers of green streamers and poster board shavings, yes, shavings.
2. The adjective, hot, in hot glue gun is a descriptive term. Just ask the large blister on my forefinger.
3. If your parenting magazine of choice says a project is "kid friendly" have a good chuckle and be prepared to say, "Don't do that." "Don't touch that." "Yes, the glittery craft foam is for the pumpkin; that's why we bought it. No, I don't think there will be any left because Mommy used forty square inches trying to cut a hole in the middle of a square for the belt buckle." "Yes! The glue gun is hot." "Those are Mommy scissors not little boy scissors." and so on.....
4. Your three-year-old son's idea of neat and your idea of neat reside in separate, distant universes.
5. Your six-year-old daughter will grow bored with watching you attempt to glue streamers and a flat hat to the top of your very round pumpkin.
6. Repeat after me, "I am not Martha Stewart, I am not Martha Stewart." Don't be disappointed if despite your best efforts, your witch pumpkin looks just like your kids constructed it.
Actually, when all was said and done, the kids and I had a great time, and our witch pumpkin looks, well, like a witch pumpkin; granted in the time it took us to build ours, Martha could have whipped up pumpkin witches for the entire state of Connecticut. But, perfection was never the goal; it was to enjoy the afternoon with my sweet little ones.
Friday, September 7, 2012
"Southern" Belle
I sit under an umbrella, feet digging into the sand, watching my children frolic in the white-capping surf of the Gulf of Mexico. I sit and read the one publication, outside the Bible, that should be mandatory in all homes this side of the Mason Dixon, Southern Living. I don't know if it's the lounging lazily in the humidity reading my favorite periodical or if it's the languid cadence of the turquoise expanse pounding hypnotically before me, but I sit here, yup, still sitting, and ponder why I love this warm, friendly, inviting, mysterious, religious, complicated, beautiful piece of heaven also, usually lovingly, yet sometimes resentfully, known as the South. While it certainly bears the shame of its share of sins, the South has also been graced with a haunting beauty and mystery that sends many I know spending half of their lives figuring out how to escape the slow rhythm of a quiet, rural landscape for the cosmopolitan promise of success in the North or out West and the other half figuring out how to return to the inescapable, inexplicable fetter that sooner or later beckons them home. A disclaimer: I've never escaped the tie that binds me to the South. Sure, I've moved to big, southern cities like Atlanta and even blazoned trails out west to Dallas, and while I've visited New York and even California, I've never lived anywhere outside of this region. I've threatened to leave, but some esoteric force has always held me captive, and today, I created a list of reasons I believe explain why. So here are the reasons I love the South:
1. The Gulf of Mexico
Although Mexico claimed the naming rights, this body of water remains uniquely Southern. It kisses the shores of Florida, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, and Texas, all deeply Southern. While I prefer to visit the Gulf in Alabama or Florida, I'm sure its charms extend to the other states, as well. There is nothing that compares to the white, sandy shores, dotted by a symphony of colorful umbrellas and tents all proudly displaying their owners' SEC allegiances. Palm trees mingle with giant arching oaks draped with Spanish moss. Fishing boats drift lazily by seafood dives that have graced the shores of the Gulf for generations, where gumbo and fried shrimp headline menus that have survived hurricanes and tropical storms.
2. Southern Writers
Every good reader knows all good writers are from the South....all except Hemingway, and I'm sure he wished he were from here; after all, he claimed Key West as his home, at least part of the time. From Welty to Faulkner to O'Connor to Lee to Williams to Capote to Bragg....my hands are getting tired..... Writers who artfully capture the tumultous past and uncertain future of a region haunted by past sins, a region seeking redemption from generations of individuals marred by the stubborn refusal to relinquish an archaic, injudicious ideology. Where even your great aunt is a master storyteller. How do you not love a culture that begins a tale with, "You know Maudie, yes, you know Maudie, your grandmother's cousin's best friend's boyfriend's aunt....anyway, she never could leave well enough alone." And after five minutes of your aunt's captivating yarn, you know Maudie and Herb and Floyd and anyone else who happens to dance into the narrative that has been spun so effortlessly you don't care that most of it probably never happened.....or maybe it did and that's what makes it so captivating. After any story told by a favorite relative, it's clear that Harper Lee did indeed write To Kill A Mockingbird because she writes it in the same language that all good Southern storytellers speak.
3. SEC Football, Swimming, Baseball, Basketball, well, all SEC sports because who doesn't love NCAA title winners
I'm an Alabamian, the crystal trophy has become so cozy here that it's building a permanent residence, or so I hear, based on Alabama's performance against Michigan last weekend. I'm also a huge UK fan, and if Calipari's team last year is any indication, I'm pretty sure a repeat performance is also in his future, too. As a southerner, I also know it isn't polite to brag, so I'll leave it at that, which brings me to reason number 4....
4. Southern Manners
We Southerners are a polite bunch. I've been to, er, other parts of the country, so I speak from experience. Even my Yankee friends (is it okay to say Yankee? since, I say this begrudgingly, the best baseball team in history proudly wears the banner, I'll assume yes) comment on how friendly we are here in this part of the country. Children are taught from birth to say "yes, ma'am" and "yes, sir." Even when we are hurling an insult, it sounds kind. I mean, bless your heart, don't you know you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.
5. Southern Cooking
If you've never indulged in Southern cuisine, well, I say it again, bless your heart. Biscuits, cornbread, gravy (with sausage), sweet tea, fried chicken, gumbo, fried okra, fried green tomatoes, grits, shrimp and grits, black eyed peas, barbecue, did I mention sweet tea? Sure, it isn't the healthiest fare in the land, but wow, southerners can cook.
6. Faith
I know, I know, the South doesn't corner the market on faith, not even close, but I 've never been anywhere where offering to pray for someone is as natural as breathing, and as expected. While football seems to be a religion, it is clear that true Religion still tempers the culture in a way nothing else can. It isn't a matter of "do you go to church?" The question usually begins "where?" I love that I live in a culture that still expects a healthy fear of the Lord and understands that faith in Christ is paramount to many of its citizens. I see no shame in being labeled the "Bible belt" even when spoken with a sneer. For me, it's this openness of faith that makes the South uniquely polite and charitable in a way no other region in the country is. When disaster strikes, neighbors eagerly grab whatever tool is handy and run to help anyone in need, regardless of faith, race, or creed, while whoever lacks the strength to help physically is rummaging through a box trying to find their grandmother's casserole recipe. When calamity struck the Gulf coast in the form of Hurricane Katrina and tornadoes ripped homes from foundations on April 27th, the South came together in a way that was awe inspiring. Is that only in the South? Of course not, but our willingness to forego self and lift up our neighbor even when our own home may be destroyed is something I know, without a doubt, is a way of life here.
Still sitting, still watching my children frolic, still browsing the tailgate section of Southern Living for recipes for next week's Auburn game, I know why the lure of Spanish moss covered oaks, master storytellers, and great food is too great to escape and why I'll always call the South home.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Moment of Clarity
Running down 30-A, somewhere between Santa Rosa and Grayton Beach, it hits me, I've got a problem. No, I hadn't torn an achilles or pulled a hamstring; the soothing salty air and sound of the pounding surf, along with a fresh dose of running endorphins, had provided a moment of clarity. Lost in thought, I realize I am a people pleaser. Not earth-shattering news for those who know me best. What is groundbreaking about this particular epiphany is the realization that my particular personality quirk is responsbile for the last year of my over-stressed, over-worked, overwhelmed schedule and subsequent sense of angst. People pleasing is costing me my peace of mind.It isn't just an inability to say no to another ministry opportunity, to a student who needs help with preparing for the ACT, to a job opportunity that seems too good to pass up. It is that my idea of being a "good" Christian has long been defined by saying yes to every need that may arise, where I have the opportunity to offer a solution or at the very least a helping hand. For years, I've believed the more I give of my time, my expertise, my self, the more Christ-like I am becoming. Let's say for instance I have a full-load of regular students who need tutoring plus 20 ACT students I'm helping for the big day, a daughter who needs help with her homeschooling lessons, a husband who'd like dinner that didn't come from the freezer, a son who wants Mommy to help put together a space puzzle, a lesson that needs to be planned for the classes I teach at the homeschool co-op, a house that has dust bunnies that could be confused with our Golden Retriever, and one more student calls desperate for ACT help at the last minute (because that happens about once a week). What do I do? I find two hours in my schedule at 9:00 pm and hope that Starbucks is still open until 11:00 p.m. because that's what Jesus would do, right? Isn't giving of self until there's nothing left to give the essence of Christian service? And isn't that what people expect? After all, what would everyone think if I said no?
Although I may not truly "believe" this deep down, it's the way I've lived my life for the past two years, so if I don't believe it, I am certainly living as I do. Perhaps it is the relaxing pace of a beach vacation, perhaps it is because today is the first time I've found a moment for exercise in the past month, or perhaps it is the first time I've quieted my mind long enough to listen, but the Holy Spirit spoke to me on my run, gently but firmly. He reminded me that Jesus did not run aimlessly in circles throughout Jerusalem holding up his hand to volunteer for every need that might arise. Jesus was deliberate in his mission. He also found time to be alone for prayer and restoration. After feeding the five thousand, "[Jesus] made his disciples get into the boat and go ahead of him to the other side of Bethsaida, while he dismissed the crowd. After He said good-bye to them, He went away to the mountain to pray. When evening came, the boat was in the middle of the sea, and He was alone on land." Mark 6: 45-47. After a long day of ministry, Jesus took time to be alone with God to pray and to rest.
The Holy Spirit also reminded me that God, too, rested after creating the earth, even though as the all-powerful Almighty He didn't need to rest. His act serves as an example for us, an example so powerful that ultimately God declared the Sabbath as a Holy day of rest to be strictly followed by the Jews as part of the Levitical law. It was so important that anyone not observing the Sabbath could be put to death. Granted, we are no longer bound by the law, the Sabbath example serves as a reminder that in God's plan for our life is included a day for renewal. The past two years, there have been times I've worked 40+ days in a row, not a very good example to my children when I ultimately try to explaining to them the importance of the Sabbath.
As I continue my run, I reflect on my mood and my state of mind for the past two years and realize a burned-out Mommy does not make a very good servant no matter how well-intentioned the service may be. It creates a stressed, short-tempered, distracted, sometimes weepy Mommy who reflects more of an aimless wanderer than a woman living and modeling for my children the abundant life.
I also came to what may be the biggest epiphany of my run: that my service to others isn't always simply grounded in selfless service; often, it is motivated by what other people might think of me if I don't say yes. What will everyone think if I am not superwoman? The Holy Spirit also took a moment in my run, yes, it was a long run, to remind me that Jesus didn't particularly care what others thought. The people you'd think He would have wanted to impress the most, the leaders of the church, were the ones He seemed to impress the least. But, that's just it, as One who came to serve, not be served, Jesus served from pure motives, not because He was trying to win favor or look good. He tells us in John 8:29, "The One who sent Me is with Me. He has not left Me alone, because I always do what pleases Him." Jesus was here to please God not man, and I realize that my race has not been the one Paul refers to in 1 Corinthians; mine resembles a hamster on a wheel not really progressing in any direction, pleasing no one, serving few, yet constantly in desperate motion. Jesus later tells his disciples in that same chapter that "You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free."
On a beautiful covered bridge in Santa Rosa, Florida, God spoke the truth, and I came to see that Jesus and I need to do this more often because He had a lot of truth to deliver, some uncomfortable, unflattering, and unsettling, yet profound, loving, and necessary. We also need to do this more often because I am sorely out of shape both physically and spiritually. The truth is I need to stop burning the candle at both ends simply to please man and need to reorder my priorities and eliminate all that isn't part of His plan for my abundant life. This vacation is serving as an opportunity to reflect and reevaluate what that means for my family as I relinquish several work responsibilities and begin a new chapter that includes beginning our homeschooling adventure.
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
What a Difference a Year Makes
This time last year I was practicing my "so excited about school starting" smile, so it would be ready to wear to the "Welcome to Kindergarten" Ice Cream Social my daughter's new school was hosting as an opportunity for the sweet five-year-olds to meet their future classmates. I needed this particular smile to hide the "No! I'm not ready for my daughter to start school" frown that I wanted to grab from the closet. And smile I did. I smiled so much the only things I needed were Vaseline (keeps your lips from sticking to your teeth), big hair, and an evening dress, and I could have been crowned the next Miss America. This smile would surely mask any apprehension or nostalgia I was feeling. After all, a weeping mommy, might cause A to wonder just what exactly awaited her beyond the carpool line that first day.
As a reasonable adult, I knew that all children eventually leave the nest and fly away to school, so the first weeks of August were a whirlwind of purchasing back-to-school outfits, a new lunchbox, and shoes. I loved the shopping...um, preparation, but I knew each purchase was one step closer to sending my sweet A to kindergarten. That first day I snapped a flurry of photographs, braided her hair, dressed her in the perfect first day outfit, all the while smiling, trying to create an atmosphere of excitement and eager anticipation for A. When I dropped my girl off that first day and watched her two braids bob into the front door, my smile faded and the tears came. It was a bit of a relief to be able to finally release all the emotion I'd been repressing for weeks, plus my cheeks were sore from all the smiling. Yet, to me, it just didn't feel right sending my five-year-old away for thirty-five hours a week of school, a feeling beyond the typical first day of kindergarten blues.
Fast forward one year, and the mood around here is much more genuine. The sunny, yet artificial, disposition has been replaced with a real grin; the usual back-to-school chaos is now a relaxed pace. Instead of shopping for a new backpack, A and I are excitedly discussing curriculum and planning when to study space and whether or not we should pencil in a unit on weather, both strong interests of hers. Even little brother is getting in on the act, voicing his ideas about a race car unit. Trips to the mall for clothing have been replaced with trips to 2nd and Charles where we spend hours browsing the education section, trying to narrow down our selections to a few twenty or thirty books. The blessing of homeschooling is allowing us to fit education to our lifestyle. A is also now playing an active role in her schooling instead of just squeezing into a one-size-fits all course of study. As a result, a spark has reignited A's waning enthusiasm for education, refueling a real zest for learning.
Our relationship has also benefited from homeschooling preparations. My business was stealing what little time I did have with my daughter after the demands of school and extracurricular activities, resulting in our decision to homeschool. Since A isn't coming home from school to find me leaving for work, she is much-less stressed and more herself and so am I. The search for educational opportunities that truly meet A's aptitude and interests is allowing me to get to know my daughter even better. I'm discovering who my sweet girl is all over again, and the process has been a blast. A, C, and I are all looking forward to the unlimited educational opportunities that await. I'm looking forward to seeing the wonder and awe in my daughter and son's eyes as we discover God's amazing world together and to the opportunity to be a part of those moments I would have otherwise missed. The result: a smile that isn't forced or masking apprehension. This grin is the real deal!
As a reasonable adult, I knew that all children eventually leave the nest and fly away to school, so the first weeks of August were a whirlwind of purchasing back-to-school outfits, a new lunchbox, and shoes. I loved the shopping...um, preparation, but I knew each purchase was one step closer to sending my sweet A to kindergarten. That first day I snapped a flurry of photographs, braided her hair, dressed her in the perfect first day outfit, all the while smiling, trying to create an atmosphere of excitement and eager anticipation for A. When I dropped my girl off that first day and watched her two braids bob into the front door, my smile faded and the tears came. It was a bit of a relief to be able to finally release all the emotion I'd been repressing for weeks, plus my cheeks were sore from all the smiling. Yet, to me, it just didn't feel right sending my five-year-old away for thirty-five hours a week of school, a feeling beyond the typical first day of kindergarten blues.
Fast forward one year, and the mood around here is much more genuine. The sunny, yet artificial, disposition has been replaced with a real grin; the usual back-to-school chaos is now a relaxed pace. Instead of shopping for a new backpack, A and I are excitedly discussing curriculum and planning when to study space and whether or not we should pencil in a unit on weather, both strong interests of hers. Even little brother is getting in on the act, voicing his ideas about a race car unit. Trips to the mall for clothing have been replaced with trips to 2nd and Charles where we spend hours browsing the education section, trying to narrow down our selections to a few twenty or thirty books. The blessing of homeschooling is allowing us to fit education to our lifestyle. A is also now playing an active role in her schooling instead of just squeezing into a one-size-fits all course of study. As a result, a spark has reignited A's waning enthusiasm for education, refueling a real zest for learning.
Our relationship has also benefited from homeschooling preparations. My business was stealing what little time I did have with my daughter after the demands of school and extracurricular activities, resulting in our decision to homeschool. Since A isn't coming home from school to find me leaving for work, she is much-less stressed and more herself and so am I. The search for educational opportunities that truly meet A's aptitude and interests is allowing me to get to know my daughter even better. I'm discovering who my sweet girl is all over again, and the process has been a blast. A, C, and I are all looking forward to the unlimited educational opportunities that await. I'm looking forward to seeing the wonder and awe in my daughter and son's eyes as we discover God's amazing world together and to the opportunity to be a part of those moments I would have otherwise missed. The result: a smile that isn't forced or masking apprehension. This grin is the real deal!
Thursday, August 2, 2012
August Already?
I have a confession....when I flipped July over to August on my calendar, I did so with a sense of eagerness, excitement, and relief. And, it isn't because life is so dull around here that the act of changing the calendar is the most exciting activity of the month. August is one step closer to fall; one month nearer to cooler air, brilliant blue skies, and gorgeous oranges and blues as they run onto the field of play. As a Southerner, self-imposed or not, I feel an inordinate amount of pressure to like summer, and quite frankly, it is not my favorite season....it's not even second. But don't all you belles love sipping sweet tea on the front porch, fanning in the heat, and waving at neighbors as they pass by? Um, no, not since 1930 and the advent of air conditioning and text messaging.
Don't get me wrong; I am a life-time-subscription-to-Southern-Living-speaking-with-a-drawl-sweet-tea-drinking-Gulf-Coast-frequenting-flip-flop-loving-Faulkner/Welty/O'Connor-novel-reading-southern-to-the-core as they come, but I'm not a huge fan of summer. While I love many summer-time activities like catching fireflies, swimming until dark, walking barefoot through the grass, watching my children dance in the sprinklers, traveling to the beach, and eating posicles on the back porch, I don't like languishing in 100+ degree temperatures and 100% humidity. Not an ideal combination for oily skin and naturally flat hair. I also find myself lost without the structure that seems to come with fall, winter, and spring.
There I said it; I like structure; I find comfort in routine, and summer, well, lacks routine. I get that's the charm of summer, but for me, I find myself not quite knowing how to handle unstructured days. While I'm by no means a Type-A, I find interruptions in my beautifully planned days to be quite annoying, so imagine my dismay at having no set schedule for three months. But don't I homeschool? Yes, but there's a routine there that's usually predictable. There's also something comforting about having the rest of the world on a schedule, too. My church even changes to a summer schedule, the one usual hallmark of year-round consistency.
Even with some routine, summer just seems so unstructured; throw in scorching heat, uncontrollable humidity, a weird drive to be outdoors because it's summer, but it's just so blazing hot I can't bring myself to leave the air conditioned comfort of home, and I find myself planning calendar changing parties for the simple act of switching from July to August.
While I admit a little spontaneity is nice, like your husband deciding to whisk you away on a beach trip or surprising the kids with a vacation to Disney World, I crave the comfort of consistency. I know; it's possibly a character flaw, not to like the lazy, relaxed, unscheduled freedom of summer. Plus, God doesn't call me to stay stuck in a comfort zone. I'm working on seeing downtime as a blessing and interruptions in a well-planned day as placed in my path by the Holy Spirit to provide an opportunity to serve or to build character, but I'll be the first to admit I have a long way to go, evidenced by my celebratory dance to the kitchen to change the month on August 1st. And, I cannot be held entirely responsible for the damage that ensues from the breakdancing, side herkying, and backhandspringing that will accompany the switch from August to September. I can almost hear the Auburn fight song now........
Don't get me wrong; I am a life-time-subscription-to-Southern-Living-speaking-with-a-drawl-sweet-tea-drinking-Gulf-Coast-frequenting-flip-flop-loving-Faulkner/Welty/O'Connor-novel-reading-southern-to-the-core as they come, but I'm not a huge fan of summer. While I love many summer-time activities like catching fireflies, swimming until dark, walking barefoot through the grass, watching my children dance in the sprinklers, traveling to the beach, and eating posicles on the back porch, I don't like languishing in 100+ degree temperatures and 100% humidity. Not an ideal combination for oily skin and naturally flat hair. I also find myself lost without the structure that seems to come with fall, winter, and spring.
There I said it; I like structure; I find comfort in routine, and summer, well, lacks routine. I get that's the charm of summer, but for me, I find myself not quite knowing how to handle unstructured days. While I'm by no means a Type-A, I find interruptions in my beautifully planned days to be quite annoying, so imagine my dismay at having no set schedule for three months. But don't I homeschool? Yes, but there's a routine there that's usually predictable. There's also something comforting about having the rest of the world on a schedule, too. My church even changes to a summer schedule, the one usual hallmark of year-round consistency.
Even with some routine, summer just seems so unstructured; throw in scorching heat, uncontrollable humidity, a weird drive to be outdoors because it's summer, but it's just so blazing hot I can't bring myself to leave the air conditioned comfort of home, and I find myself planning calendar changing parties for the simple act of switching from July to August.
While I admit a little spontaneity is nice, like your husband deciding to whisk you away on a beach trip or surprising the kids with a vacation to Disney World, I crave the comfort of consistency. I know; it's possibly a character flaw, not to like the lazy, relaxed, unscheduled freedom of summer. Plus, God doesn't call me to stay stuck in a comfort zone. I'm working on seeing downtime as a blessing and interruptions in a well-planned day as placed in my path by the Holy Spirit to provide an opportunity to serve or to build character, but I'll be the first to admit I have a long way to go, evidenced by my celebratory dance to the kitchen to change the month on August 1st. And, I cannot be held entirely responsible for the damage that ensues from the breakdancing, side herkying, and backhandspringing that will accompany the switch from August to September. I can almost hear the Auburn fight song now........
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Learning On The Road
As I write this, I sit in the shadow of the Mamba, a thrilling roller coaster that towers above the rest of the Worlds of Fun Amusement and RV Park in Kansas City, Missouri. If I open the door of my in-laws' coach, I can hear the squeals of the Mamba's passengers as they crest the first hill and plunge into the unknown. For my homeschooling family, our day at the same amusement park provided an excellent lesson in elementary physics; elementary, because my daughter is six and because I know very little about physics beyond e=mc^2 or is it y=mx+b? Despite my dearth of knowledge in all things Einstein, my daughter and I engaged in meaningful conversations about the science behind rides as simple as the swings and as complex as the Patriot roller coaster. A day of fun served as a reminder of how easy it is to incorporate learning into almost any event.
Since making the decision to home school, I have become increasingly aware of how learning can be seamlessly interwoven into everyday living. This is true for parents who don't home school, too, but for me this seems to be a revelation that struck the day I made the homeschooling decision. While it might be obvious how to turn a trip to the grocery store into an opportunity to discuss math concepts like measurements and money, I had never thought about how something like a trip to a wedding in Kansas City could also serve as an on-the-road classroom experience.
As a new homeschooling mom, I find that I am suddenly motivated to discover a learning opportunity around every bend, so when I learned that we would be traveling to Kansas City, a town we'd never visited, I decided to take advantage of the novelty and uncover the city's educational gems. The over-12 hour drive provided ample time to research landmarks and other unique aspects of the city and time for my children and me to plan activities. For example, Kansas City is the headquarters for Hallmark greeting cards, and Hallmark's next-door-neighbor? Sea Life, Kansas City's top-notch aquarium. A trip to Crown Plaza, the home of both, afforded the chance to explore the aquarium and discuss the greeting card industry, which showcases a unique style of writing. When my children and I found out we'd be visiting the aquarium, we checked out books on sharks and dolphins for some preliminary research. Discussions about sea life even led to an interest in the Titanic, which my daughter has pursued knowledge of relentlessly for the past two weeks. A simple wedding invitation has led to a plethora of immediate and future learning endeavors.
The education didn't end at Crown Plaza. The wedding itself allowed A and I to discuss traditions and customs unique to our country and has given us an opportunity to extend our social studies lesson to discovering more about the wedding customs of other countries. The scripture read at the wedding opened the door to bible study in understanding why that particular set of verses may have been chosen for a wedding. The more I explore opportunities to turn the everyday into a classroom the more amazed I am by how many seemingly simple occasions become lessons, even unit studies. A trip to a new town for a wedding easily became a traveling classroom.
It is simple for any novice homeschooling mom to plan a similar approach to impromptu travels.
1. Use the Internet to study the place where you'll be traveling. Many landmarks are obvious and famous, but as you dig deeper, you will most likely discover nuggets of information that will fascinate your children, even if they might not headline the city travel guide.
2. Ask locals where some of the city's hidden gems lie. The wedding we attended had a very unique Kansas City flair. Our hosts prepared goodie bags with itinerary that outlined some of the city's unique qualities. Their wedding place cards also contained photographs of the city's landmarks, which gave us ideas for where to explore.
3. If you study the city before you leave, instead of while on the road, check out books about the city or some educational supplements to some of that town or region's landmarks, as in my earlier example of checking out books on sharks to prepare for the aquarium's shark exhibit.
4. Understand most places are ripe with learning discoveries to unearth. We were only in Kansas City for three days, part of which was dedicated to time with family, so we limited our tour to places that would specifically capture our children's interests and imaginations. They also served as springboards for topics that my children would like to study further once we arrive back home.
While this trip didn't turn me into a physicist, it did teach me a little more about the one benefit everyone should learn from homeschooling. Every day provides unlimited chances to transform even the most seemingly mundane trip to the grocery store and turn it into an on-the-road classroom experience. The world is indeed a laboratory of learning when you seize the opportunity.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Moms of Boys Blog Hop
Welcome to my blog, Because I Said So!. I am so excited to be participating in the annual Blog Hop. I just stumbled across the site while on Twitter, so today is my first day to learn about Moms of Boys, and I am so excited to join the group!!! When I discovered the blog hop, I though it would be fun to participate!!
My name is Julie Anna, and I am the proud mom of a sweet, thoughtful, adventurous three-year-old boy named Connor (and a sweet six-year-old girl, Annie). I love being a mom and balance staying home with my two children with running my own tutoring business, Over The Mountain Tutoring. My loves include Jesus, my wonderful husband, parenting, writing, education, running, reading, exploring with my son, cheering for my daughter's swim team and many more! If that isn't enough adventure, my children and I will be embarking on our homeschooling journey this fall! So any moms who also homeschool, I'd love to hear from you and to learn from your experiences!
My blog covers our new adventures in-depth. I also love to write about my children. Blogging since 2007, I took a small hiatus to work on my business but am now back and eager to share our homeschooling experience with the world in a hope to offer encouragement to new homeschoolers and rekindle that spark in those who've been homeschooling for years. I hope you will join us on our journey! I also blog extensively about my how my faith in Jesus Christ colors my perspective on everything from parenting to writing. I look forward to sharing that insight with you, as well!
Follow me on Twitter, too @sportymamajules.
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Sunday, July 22, 2012
Step One
I've heard it said, "the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." I'm assuming this applies to figurative, not literal journeys, as well. To the "journey" of let's say homeschooling, more specifically and immediately the choosing of a curriculum. The speaker, it seems, is trying to assuage any sense of panic felt by the traveler about to embark upon a long, overwhelming journey, one like, let's say, choosing the right curriculum for your dear first grader. It appears the traveler for whom this advice was written knew, at least, which path to take. The thousand miles were a straight shot toward a specific destination. He didn't even mention needing a map; just put one foot in front of the other and keep walking toward the definitive destination. Hmmm....my journey doesn't seem to have a clear path and therein lies the dilemma.
I'd like to pick this wise sojourner's brain to see if he had any advice for what to do when the direction in which to take that single step is rather ambiguous. If the decision to homeschool Anna were a difficult one, the choice of which curriculum to use and how to approach homeschooling is herculean. It's like I'm standing on a circle, ready to set out on my homeschooling journey, and with each slight turn around the circle a possible path lies before me. No step is necessarily one in the wrong direction; they are all good paths, but which one is the best, if there even is a best, or like the past 70 NCAA College Football Champions, is this, too, a mythical title. I'm the kind of girl who likes simplicity. I get so overwhelmed by the 20 page menus at Cheesecake Factory and TGIFriday's that I avoid both eateries. I prefer the one page menu that offers three appetizer choices, three entree choices, and three dessert choices, so you can imagine my apprehension as I memorize each detail of Cathy Duffy's 100 Top Picks for Homeschool Curriculum in a desperate attempt to find the one perfect curriculum for my A. As a professional educator, I'm baffled and breathing a huge sigh of relief that I was never chosen to be on a textbook committee.
Of course, I'm not lamenting the freedom of choice nor the plethora of choice. That's one of the attributes that attracted me to homeschooling in the first place. As someone who, when teaching, couldn't find the ideal writing curriculum, just created my own, I wasn't ready for the numerous, viable options in homeschool curriculum. And, since first grade phonics and math are out of my comfort zone, perhaps I don't feel overly confident in choosing or creating the right curriculum. I, after all, specialize in middle and high school reading and writing instruction. Since Cathy's done such a great job of narrowing my choices to the top 100, I could just write my options on strips of paper and draw them from a hat, or I could flip a coin, or maybe, I could create a bracket, but what would the playoff criteria be. Oh, it's too much.
I'm leaning toward choosing one based on the best title. Take, for instance, Happy Phonics. How could you go wrong with this phonics program, which according to Duffy, works well with Explode the Code, another catchy title? Maybe, she could write another book titled, Choosing Curriculum Without Exploding Your Brain. Those are just the phonics options; I have yet to study math. As in most choices I make, I realize I am most likely overanalyzing this one, as well, especially since the few selections I am seriously considering have come highly recommended.
While this process is overwhelming, it is also exciting. I have the opportunity to carefully analyze my daughter and son's learning styles and pair them with a curriculum that best fits the particular nuances of each of my children's own educational dispositions. Because I know them better than anyone, and I understand learning and education, I relish the opportunity to create a learning plan that fits my children's unique personalities. How exciting! That possibility eclipses any apprehension about finding a mythical, one-size-fits-all curriculum, which is one reason we left traditional schooling in the first place. So, as I pray about finding the curriculum that is right for my children, I will trust the Holy Spirit to lead me to the path that best fits our family, just like He led us through the first fork in the road and put us on the offbeaten path to homeschooling. I will confidently take the next step and continue to place one foot in front of the other, trusting God's guidance on this journey, which may mean I forge a completely new path!
I'd like to pick this wise sojourner's brain to see if he had any advice for what to do when the direction in which to take that single step is rather ambiguous. If the decision to homeschool Anna were a difficult one, the choice of which curriculum to use and how to approach homeschooling is herculean. It's like I'm standing on a circle, ready to set out on my homeschooling journey, and with each slight turn around the circle a possible path lies before me. No step is necessarily one in the wrong direction; they are all good paths, but which one is the best, if there even is a best, or like the past 70 NCAA College Football Champions, is this, too, a mythical title. I'm the kind of girl who likes simplicity. I get so overwhelmed by the 20 page menus at Cheesecake Factory and TGIFriday's that I avoid both eateries. I prefer the one page menu that offers three appetizer choices, three entree choices, and three dessert choices, so you can imagine my apprehension as I memorize each detail of Cathy Duffy's 100 Top Picks for Homeschool Curriculum in a desperate attempt to find the one perfect curriculum for my A. As a professional educator, I'm baffled and breathing a huge sigh of relief that I was never chosen to be on a textbook committee.
Of course, I'm not lamenting the freedom of choice nor the plethora of choice. That's one of the attributes that attracted me to homeschooling in the first place. As someone who, when teaching, couldn't find the ideal writing curriculum, just created my own, I wasn't ready for the numerous, viable options in homeschool curriculum. And, since first grade phonics and math are out of my comfort zone, perhaps I don't feel overly confident in choosing or creating the right curriculum. I, after all, specialize in middle and high school reading and writing instruction. Since Cathy's done such a great job of narrowing my choices to the top 100, I could just write my options on strips of paper and draw them from a hat, or I could flip a coin, or maybe, I could create a bracket, but what would the playoff criteria be. Oh, it's too much.
I'm leaning toward choosing one based on the best title. Take, for instance, Happy Phonics. How could you go wrong with this phonics program, which according to Duffy, works well with Explode the Code, another catchy title? Maybe, she could write another book titled, Choosing Curriculum Without Exploding Your Brain. Those are just the phonics options; I have yet to study math. As in most choices I make, I realize I am most likely overanalyzing this one, as well, especially since the few selections I am seriously considering have come highly recommended.
While this process is overwhelming, it is also exciting. I have the opportunity to carefully analyze my daughter and son's learning styles and pair them with a curriculum that best fits the particular nuances of each of my children's own educational dispositions. Because I know them better than anyone, and I understand learning and education, I relish the opportunity to create a learning plan that fits my children's unique personalities. How exciting! That possibility eclipses any apprehension about finding a mythical, one-size-fits-all curriculum, which is one reason we left traditional schooling in the first place. So, as I pray about finding the curriculum that is right for my children, I will trust the Holy Spirit to lead me to the path that best fits our family, just like He led us through the first fork in the road and put us on the offbeaten path to homeschooling. I will confidently take the next step and continue to place one foot in front of the other, trusting God's guidance on this journey, which may mean I forge a completely new path!
Monday, July 16, 2012
A's Got Talent
"Mommy, I don't have any talent."
"What?" I respond, hoping my question will buy time to think of an appropriate response.
A flings herself dramatically onto her bed, buries her head in her pillow, and sighs with such exasperation, I notice the ceiling fan begin to spin. "I don't have any talent," comes the muffled reply.
I'm dumbfounded. At her age, I'm sure I'd never heard the word talent uttered, probably didn't know what it was and if I had, didn't care. Perhaps if I had thought more seriously about my own talents at six, my mom and dad could have saved thousands on wasted gymnastics lessons. I ponder A's sudden outburst. Acting might be on her list of serious talent considerations....
"Of course, you have talent. What makes you think you don't?"
"On America's Got Talent, there was a six-year-old girl who could dance...."
That's debatable, I think, but respond, "Honey, that doesn't mean you don't have talent. You can sing, dance, paint. You have lots of talents."
"But I could never go on a TV show with my talents." Tears drip down her sweet cheeks. I catch one on my forefinger and pat her on the head, seriously searching for the right words, fighting the urge to simply exclaim, "that's ridiculous" because this epiphany has clearly upset her.
"Sweetheart, talents aren't meant to be performed for fame. They are God's gifts to us to use in His service." Realizing, this might be a hard sell, I grab her Bible from her shelf and open up to 1 Corinthians 12 and read about how everyone has a specific role to play and explain how everyone has an important gift that's vital to fulfilling God's purpose in their lives. Pretty heavy conversation for bed time, and, of course, A is six, but I hope at least some of what I am saying resonates. My goal is for her to realize that her worth isn't measured in her ability to wow an audience.
A continues to lament her "lack" of performance talents, while I make a mental note to outlaw goofy talent shows at our house. I stroke her hair reassuringly and joke about how Mommy could audition and wow the audience by writing on stage or about how Daddy could ride his bike. After pointing out that Michael Phelps and Tyson Gay wouldn't make the America's Got Talent cut but will both probably win Olympic gold, I feel that I've adequately made my point. By this time, I would have been rolling my eyes and begging my mom to leave the room, but A simply listens. I tuck my sweet girl into her bed, turn out the lights, and walk downstairs, wondering when as a society we began transmitting the message to our children that the only talents that matter are those that bring fame, fortune, and worldly glory. While strict about television viewing, it seems that even seemingly innocuous programming can deliver a negative impact.
I mull over mine and A's conversation for several minutes and, as always, wonder if I said the right thing, too much, or not enough. What message do I send in my own life about what I value as a gift, and what do I toss away as too insignificant to contribute? I've not always valued my gifts of teaching and writing and have even joked on the blog about how I could never be Miss America because I wouldn't have a talent. Ok, there may be other reasons I would never be Miss America like the fact that I'm married.... As A and I embark upon more time together in this homeschooling journey, I see the worth in passing on even more deliberately the kind of values that I want A to cherish and hope that she'll see the immense treasure in her own unique gifts and talents, even if those talents may never secure her a spot on a nationally televised talent show. I hope she realizes that like A their impact for the kingdom is priceless.
"What?" I respond, hoping my question will buy time to think of an appropriate response.
A flings herself dramatically onto her bed, buries her head in her pillow, and sighs with such exasperation, I notice the ceiling fan begin to spin. "I don't have any talent," comes the muffled reply.
I'm dumbfounded. At her age, I'm sure I'd never heard the word talent uttered, probably didn't know what it was and if I had, didn't care. Perhaps if I had thought more seriously about my own talents at six, my mom and dad could have saved thousands on wasted gymnastics lessons. I ponder A's sudden outburst. Acting might be on her list of serious talent considerations....
"Of course, you have talent. What makes you think you don't?"
"On America's Got Talent, there was a six-year-old girl who could dance...."
That's debatable, I think, but respond, "Honey, that doesn't mean you don't have talent. You can sing, dance, paint. You have lots of talents."
"But I could never go on a TV show with my talents." Tears drip down her sweet cheeks. I catch one on my forefinger and pat her on the head, seriously searching for the right words, fighting the urge to simply exclaim, "that's ridiculous" because this epiphany has clearly upset her.
"Sweetheart, talents aren't meant to be performed for fame. They are God's gifts to us to use in His service." Realizing, this might be a hard sell, I grab her Bible from her shelf and open up to 1 Corinthians 12 and read about how everyone has a specific role to play and explain how everyone has an important gift that's vital to fulfilling God's purpose in their lives. Pretty heavy conversation for bed time, and, of course, A is six, but I hope at least some of what I am saying resonates. My goal is for her to realize that her worth isn't measured in her ability to wow an audience.
A continues to lament her "lack" of performance talents, while I make a mental note to outlaw goofy talent shows at our house. I stroke her hair reassuringly and joke about how Mommy could audition and wow the audience by writing on stage or about how Daddy could ride his bike. After pointing out that Michael Phelps and Tyson Gay wouldn't make the America's Got Talent cut but will both probably win Olympic gold, I feel that I've adequately made my point. By this time, I would have been rolling my eyes and begging my mom to leave the room, but A simply listens. I tuck my sweet girl into her bed, turn out the lights, and walk downstairs, wondering when as a society we began transmitting the message to our children that the only talents that matter are those that bring fame, fortune, and worldly glory. While strict about television viewing, it seems that even seemingly innocuous programming can deliver a negative impact.
I mull over mine and A's conversation for several minutes and, as always, wonder if I said the right thing, too much, or not enough. What message do I send in my own life about what I value as a gift, and what do I toss away as too insignificant to contribute? I've not always valued my gifts of teaching and writing and have even joked on the blog about how I could never be Miss America because I wouldn't have a talent. Ok, there may be other reasons I would never be Miss America like the fact that I'm married.... As A and I embark upon more time together in this homeschooling journey, I see the worth in passing on even more deliberately the kind of values that I want A to cherish and hope that she'll see the immense treasure in her own unique gifts and talents, even if those talents may never secure her a spot on a nationally televised talent show. I hope she realizes that like A their impact for the kingdom is priceless.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Change is Good
The parade of American flags lining neighborhood streets is a reminder that
July is already here and like June will be melt into memory faster than my
son's afternoon popsicle. With August rapidly approaching, I am reminded that
sooner than later it will be time to announce our family's pending adventure. A
is already creatively dodging the question, "Where will you be attending
school next year?" with a sweet shrug and sidelong glance cast up at Mommy
for confirmation of her next move in the conversation. This is followed by a
shrug from Mommy and an incoherent mumble of "We're homeschooling next
year."
"You're what?"
"Home..mmm.sch....mm.ooling?!"
"Oh, I see."
Depending on the receiver of this groundbreaking news, we're either met with raised eyebrows, a disapproving shake of the head, a gaping stare followed by an awkward moment of wordlessness because apparently, there are none, or a noncommittal, "That's nice." The question that has given me the most pause in answering is "Why?" "Why?" Let's see, well, hmmm, why does anyone homeschool? The reasons are, I'm sure, as varied as the parents who decide to embark on this journey. So it is for my family.
When I began my tutoring business two years ago, I didn't know the difference in an LLC and KFC except that one had excellent mashed potatoes and gravy. Both, it seemed, had a secret recipe that no one was willing to share with this novice entrepreneur. After several slow months, though, business picked up and before I knew it, I was working seven days a week for two month stretches. What began as a way to contribute to my family’s waning income in a down economy had suddenly become a full-time business competing with my favorite priority, full-time mommy-hood. While I relished the opportunity to be home full-time during the day with my toddler son, I was missing precious time with my daughter. Our afternoon routine consisted of a whirlwind rush of settling in from school, beginning homework, then Mommy rushing out the door to work as soon as my husband walked in the door. Knowing that I needed to work, not willing to put C in full-time daycare, but realizing that this arrangement was not going to work for mine and A's critical mother/daughter relationship, I was at a loss for how to change our situation. Anyone who was close to our family could see this routine was taking its toll on both A and me, yet a reasonable solution did not seem to exist until I had the opportunity to work with a delightful homeschooling family.
What struck me most about this family was how confident, self-assured, intelligent, in a single word, delightful, each of the children seemed to be. I admit I had a preconceived, unfounded vision of a homeschooling family portrait, and this family didn’t match the painting I had in mind. This encounter planted the first seed of “what if?” What if this is the solution my family has been seeking, the opportunity to be home during the day with both of my children, building relationships, learning, enjoying our life and me working in the evenings once my husband got home from work? Of course, “what if?” was immediately followed by a rush of self-doubt and self-consciousness. What would the neighbors think? Would my husband even entertain the idea? Would people think I’d finally gone off the deep end? So, I wrestled with the idea discreetly for several months; that is, unless you had access to my library record and could see the dozens of homeschooling books suddenly being checked out to my account.
“What if?” slowly began to morph into “why not,” as I began to research homeschooling and was met with a wealth of information on just how beneficial this style of education can be for families and students. I was surprised by what I learned, much of which I plan to share in the months to come, so my husband and I began discussing both the positive and negative aspects of this possibility, united in finding a solution that would work best for our family’s situation.
So….back to my original question of “Why?” Well, in a word, “Because.” Because, right now, it is what is best for my family. Because, we can. I realized through all of the research and soul-searching and prayer that I’d always been a proponent of homeschooling, and the idea was something I’d actually entertained for years. The idea of sending my six year old off to school for seven-hours-a-day, ten months a year has always been a difficult one for me to accept, and while I realize it’s been that way for parents for a hundred years, it didn’t mean that it was an arrangement that I had to accept because it was “just the way it is.” Recent Supreme Court rulings and homeschooling laws have given parents more freedom in deciding what they believe is the best educational path for their children.
As I continue to research the history of education and homeschooling, I find great freedom in understanding that, as a parent, I have the choice to decide how I want my children educated; that realization is both empowering and liberating. Of course, I understand that homeschooling isn’t for everyone nor should it be. If there is anything else this decision process has taught me, it is that each family’s ministry and place in this world is unique. The Holy Spirit gifts us each differently, and in matters that aren’t contrary to the authority of Scripture, the Holy Spirit convicts us each in a way that is unique to God’s purpose for our families. I have spent a great deal of time praying about this decision, specifically for confirmation, which has come in the form of unexepectedly being placed in the path of many homeschooling families over the past few months, of support from family and friends, and of seeing the excitement in my daughter when we discuss the upcoming school year. I've never felt convicted to give up tutoring and continue to receive affirmation that my business also serves an important ministry. The idea to homeschool has become an ideal solution for my family's unique situation.
One of my greatest fears has been that others would see my decision to homeschool as a condemnation of their choice to send their children to public or private institutions. On the contrary, as a professional educator, I encourage all families to take advantage of the freedom of choice offered to them concerning their children’s education and to fight for even more opportunity. As a business owner, failing my customers would be unacceptable; it's time to hold schools and the powers that govern them to the same accountability.
As a born-educator (my siblings and I turned the intercom system in our family home into a school network, complete with classrooms and a principal’s office), I am also giddy with excitement over the prospects that await A and me. Once the gut-wrenching decision was finally made, I immediately began discussing curriculum options with my sweet girl! We have turned the education section of 2nd and Charles into our home away from home. Learning is seamlessly being woven into the fabric of our everyday life. How cool is that! The excitement doesn’t completely assuage the moments of self-doubt or the anxiety of fielding questions, albeit well-meaning ones. So, I invite you all to join my family and me on this journey. I’ll be chronicling our adventure and addressing the changing landscape of education on my blog. I look forward to sharing the ups and downs of being a homeschooling family!
"You're what?"
"Home..mmm.sch....mm.ooling?!"
"Oh, I see."
Depending on the receiver of this groundbreaking news, we're either met with raised eyebrows, a disapproving shake of the head, a gaping stare followed by an awkward moment of wordlessness because apparently, there are none, or a noncommittal, "That's nice." The question that has given me the most pause in answering is "Why?" "Why?" Let's see, well, hmmm, why does anyone homeschool? The reasons are, I'm sure, as varied as the parents who decide to embark on this journey. So it is for my family.
When I began my tutoring business two years ago, I didn't know the difference in an LLC and KFC except that one had excellent mashed potatoes and gravy. Both, it seemed, had a secret recipe that no one was willing to share with this novice entrepreneur. After several slow months, though, business picked up and before I knew it, I was working seven days a week for two month stretches. What began as a way to contribute to my family’s waning income in a down economy had suddenly become a full-time business competing with my favorite priority, full-time mommy-hood. While I relished the opportunity to be home full-time during the day with my toddler son, I was missing precious time with my daughter. Our afternoon routine consisted of a whirlwind rush of settling in from school, beginning homework, then Mommy rushing out the door to work as soon as my husband walked in the door. Knowing that I needed to work, not willing to put C in full-time daycare, but realizing that this arrangement was not going to work for mine and A's critical mother/daughter relationship, I was at a loss for how to change our situation. Anyone who was close to our family could see this routine was taking its toll on both A and me, yet a reasonable solution did not seem to exist until I had the opportunity to work with a delightful homeschooling family.
What struck me most about this family was how confident, self-assured, intelligent, in a single word, delightful, each of the children seemed to be. I admit I had a preconceived, unfounded vision of a homeschooling family portrait, and this family didn’t match the painting I had in mind. This encounter planted the first seed of “what if?” What if this is the solution my family has been seeking, the opportunity to be home during the day with both of my children, building relationships, learning, enjoying our life and me working in the evenings once my husband got home from work? Of course, “what if?” was immediately followed by a rush of self-doubt and self-consciousness. What would the neighbors think? Would my husband even entertain the idea? Would people think I’d finally gone off the deep end? So, I wrestled with the idea discreetly for several months; that is, unless you had access to my library record and could see the dozens of homeschooling books suddenly being checked out to my account.
“What if?” slowly began to morph into “why not,” as I began to research homeschooling and was met with a wealth of information on just how beneficial this style of education can be for families and students. I was surprised by what I learned, much of which I plan to share in the months to come, so my husband and I began discussing both the positive and negative aspects of this possibility, united in finding a solution that would work best for our family’s situation.
So….back to my original question of “Why?” Well, in a word, “Because.” Because, right now, it is what is best for my family. Because, we can. I realized through all of the research and soul-searching and prayer that I’d always been a proponent of homeschooling, and the idea was something I’d actually entertained for years. The idea of sending my six year old off to school for seven-hours-a-day, ten months a year has always been a difficult one for me to accept, and while I realize it’s been that way for parents for a hundred years, it didn’t mean that it was an arrangement that I had to accept because it was “just the way it is.” Recent Supreme Court rulings and homeschooling laws have given parents more freedom in deciding what they believe is the best educational path for their children.
As I continue to research the history of education and homeschooling, I find great freedom in understanding that, as a parent, I have the choice to decide how I want my children educated; that realization is both empowering and liberating. Of course, I understand that homeschooling isn’t for everyone nor should it be. If there is anything else this decision process has taught me, it is that each family’s ministry and place in this world is unique. The Holy Spirit gifts us each differently, and in matters that aren’t contrary to the authority of Scripture, the Holy Spirit convicts us each in a way that is unique to God’s purpose for our families. I have spent a great deal of time praying about this decision, specifically for confirmation, which has come in the form of unexepectedly being placed in the path of many homeschooling families over the past few months, of support from family and friends, and of seeing the excitement in my daughter when we discuss the upcoming school year. I've never felt convicted to give up tutoring and continue to receive affirmation that my business also serves an important ministry. The idea to homeschool has become an ideal solution for my family's unique situation.
One of my greatest fears has been that others would see my decision to homeschool as a condemnation of their choice to send their children to public or private institutions. On the contrary, as a professional educator, I encourage all families to take advantage of the freedom of choice offered to them concerning their children’s education and to fight for even more opportunity. As a business owner, failing my customers would be unacceptable; it's time to hold schools and the powers that govern them to the same accountability.
As a born-educator (my siblings and I turned the intercom system in our family home into a school network, complete with classrooms and a principal’s office), I am also giddy with excitement over the prospects that await A and me. Once the gut-wrenching decision was finally made, I immediately began discussing curriculum options with my sweet girl! We have turned the education section of 2nd and Charles into our home away from home. Learning is seamlessly being woven into the fabric of our everyday life. How cool is that! The excitement doesn’t completely assuage the moments of self-doubt or the anxiety of fielding questions, albeit well-meaning ones. So, I invite you all to join my family and me on this journey. I’ll be chronicling our adventure and addressing the changing landscape of education on my blog. I look forward to sharing the ups and downs of being a homeschooling family!
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
It's in the Genes
Mommy, I don't like Easter!" A laments as we drive up the hill by her school.
What do you mean you don't like Easter? It's the most pivotal day of our faith! The day we celebrate Christ's resurrection. Out loud, I decide to try and reason with a six-year-old who is clearly not in the mood for school and is trying to find any way to avoid getting out of the car. "Why don't you like Easter? It's a wonderful day and there's the Easter egg hunt this weekend."
"I don't like Easter egg hunts," she grumbles arms crossed, kicking the back of the passenger's seat. "There's too many people and not enough eggs and what if I don't win."
Ding, ding, ding. The heart of what's bothering my little competitor. Three days until the big hunt, and she is already apprehensive about not "winning."
I clearly have no idea where this comes from. Flashback: A Trivial Pursuit board game flies through the air as people I love dearly duck in horror. I stand, suddenly bulk to twice my size, turn green, and rip my clothes in anger. I shout at my partner, cowering in the corner, "How could you miss that question. It was so simple; how could you? Everyone knows who led the Spanish Armada. You cost us the game." Okay, so maybe it didn't happen exactly that way, but you get the point. I have a competitive streak. I DO NOT LIKE TO LOSE.
I am not proud of this flaw, er, quality. In fact, I often blush in shame when my family and friends recount stories of playing games with me. Most of the time their retelling includes something about wearing helmets and face masks. I am so competitive (again, I admit this with my head hanging low) that in my youth, I refused to participate in sports or competitions where I didn't think I would succeed. I found it more to my benefit to really hone the skills in areas where I knew I'd be victorious in the outcome, which explains why I was never considered an athlete. Clumsy and awkward are usually not precursors to stellar athletic skills. When I accidentally discovered, thanks to the President's Physical Fitness test, that I had the fastest mile for a girl in my class (on that particular day), I immediately threw myself into running, training for longer and longer distances until I finally completed a marathon, too slowly for my taste, but alas, I digress.
It's taken years for me to learn to participate in activities simply for fun, and I'm not even sure it is a skill that I've mastered...ok, I am certain it is a skill that I have not mastered. Even now, when I hear of peers who are my age and skill level who have completed 5 or 10Ks with a faster time than mine, I admit, I feel that green monster start rising up a bit. I can even turn boot camp or step classes at the gym into a competition, albeit I am the only one aware that there's any competing going on. Again, not proud of that either. Now, instead of trying to participate to win or "beat" someone else, though, I try to channel that energy into becoming the best runner or competitor, there's that word again, participant that I can be.
And I am not the only parent to pass down the competition genes. My husband, who is an accomplished runner and biker, and I can turn driving to church in separate cars into a competition to see who can find the fastest way there. (We, by the way, add oodles of fun to any game night, if anyone is thinking about getting one together soon.) If you think we're the kind of parents who make "mistakes" to allow our children an opportunity to win at Chutes and Ladders or Candyland, you are mistaken.
Heaven help my daughter. I grip the wheel a bit more tightly and ponder the best response to her outburst. A verse that has been pivotal to helping me tame the competition beast has been Colossians 3:22 "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men." I wholeheartedly believe that in every endeavor we should try our best, but for me, proving I'm trying my best has often been outshining the other participants.
As I've meditated on this, I've come to the conclusion that there is nothing wrong with healthy competition when it forces us to try our best and work our hardest. Where it goes awry is when you are standing at your child's little league game yelling at the coach because your child is still on the bench or lighting into a referee, while your 4-year-old chases butterflies in the outfield. (I have NEVER done either, by the way!) It goes awry, when like everything else in life, the focus is on me, self, I, and not on Christ and competing in a way that brings Him glory.
I realize that it has taken me over 30 years to come to that understanding and thirty seconds in carpool line will not be long enough to explain it to A, so I turn around, smile, and say, "Punky, I understand what you are saying, but the Easter egg hunt is a chance to have fun with your friends. It isn't about finding the most eggs or winning. It's sharing that fun with people you like." I say it and I finally believe it... A, clearly not convinced, crinkles her nose in dismay and grumbles as she gets out of the car. "I love you!" I shout as she walks away.
With three days until the hunt, I'm sure I'll have more opportunities to impart wisdom. As the passer-down of the competition DNA, I understand my little girl, and thanks to my journey, hopefully, I can help her learn the lesson a bit more quickly, so unlike her mom, people won't show up to her game nights looking ready for a game of tackle football instead of Monopoly.
What do you mean you don't like Easter? It's the most pivotal day of our faith! The day we celebrate Christ's resurrection. Out loud, I decide to try and reason with a six-year-old who is clearly not in the mood for school and is trying to find any way to avoid getting out of the car. "Why don't you like Easter? It's a wonderful day and there's the Easter egg hunt this weekend."
"I don't like Easter egg hunts," she grumbles arms crossed, kicking the back of the passenger's seat. "There's too many people and not enough eggs and what if I don't win."
Ding, ding, ding. The heart of what's bothering my little competitor. Three days until the big hunt, and she is already apprehensive about not "winning."
I clearly have no idea where this comes from. Flashback: A Trivial Pursuit board game flies through the air as people I love dearly duck in horror. I stand, suddenly bulk to twice my size, turn green, and rip my clothes in anger. I shout at my partner, cowering in the corner, "How could you miss that question. It was so simple; how could you? Everyone knows who led the Spanish Armada. You cost us the game." Okay, so maybe it didn't happen exactly that way, but you get the point. I have a competitive streak. I DO NOT LIKE TO LOSE.
I am not proud of this flaw, er, quality. In fact, I often blush in shame when my family and friends recount stories of playing games with me. Most of the time their retelling includes something about wearing helmets and face masks. I am so competitive (again, I admit this with my head hanging low) that in my youth, I refused to participate in sports or competitions where I didn't think I would succeed. I found it more to my benefit to really hone the skills in areas where I knew I'd be victorious in the outcome, which explains why I was never considered an athlete. Clumsy and awkward are usually not precursors to stellar athletic skills. When I accidentally discovered, thanks to the President's Physical Fitness test, that I had the fastest mile for a girl in my class (on that particular day), I immediately threw myself into running, training for longer and longer distances until I finally completed a marathon, too slowly for my taste, but alas, I digress.
It's taken years for me to learn to participate in activities simply for fun, and I'm not even sure it is a skill that I've mastered...ok, I am certain it is a skill that I have not mastered. Even now, when I hear of peers who are my age and skill level who have completed 5 or 10Ks with a faster time than mine, I admit, I feel that green monster start rising up a bit. I can even turn boot camp or step classes at the gym into a competition, albeit I am the only one aware that there's any competing going on. Again, not proud of that either. Now, instead of trying to participate to win or "beat" someone else, though, I try to channel that energy into becoming the best runner or competitor, there's that word again, participant that I can be.
And I am not the only parent to pass down the competition genes. My husband, who is an accomplished runner and biker, and I can turn driving to church in separate cars into a competition to see who can find the fastest way there. (We, by the way, add oodles of fun to any game night, if anyone is thinking about getting one together soon.) If you think we're the kind of parents who make "mistakes" to allow our children an opportunity to win at Chutes and Ladders or Candyland, you are mistaken.
Heaven help my daughter. I grip the wheel a bit more tightly and ponder the best response to her outburst. A verse that has been pivotal to helping me tame the competition beast has been Colossians 3:22 "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men." I wholeheartedly believe that in every endeavor we should try our best, but for me, proving I'm trying my best has often been outshining the other participants.
As I've meditated on this, I've come to the conclusion that there is nothing wrong with healthy competition when it forces us to try our best and work our hardest. Where it goes awry is when you are standing at your child's little league game yelling at the coach because your child is still on the bench or lighting into a referee, while your 4-year-old chases butterflies in the outfield. (I have NEVER done either, by the way!) It goes awry, when like everything else in life, the focus is on me, self, I, and not on Christ and competing in a way that brings Him glory.
I realize that it has taken me over 30 years to come to that understanding and thirty seconds in carpool line will not be long enough to explain it to A, so I turn around, smile, and say, "Punky, I understand what you are saying, but the Easter egg hunt is a chance to have fun with your friends. It isn't about finding the most eggs or winning. It's sharing that fun with people you like." I say it and I finally believe it... A, clearly not convinced, crinkles her nose in dismay and grumbles as she gets out of the car. "I love you!" I shout as she walks away.
With three days until the hunt, I'm sure I'll have more opportunities to impart wisdom. As the passer-down of the competition DNA, I understand my little girl, and thanks to my journey, hopefully, I can help her learn the lesson a bit more quickly, so unlike her mom, people won't show up to her game nights looking ready for a game of tackle football instead of Monopoly.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Resolution Blues
While many of us spend this first day of 2012 pondering ways to improve ourselves in the new year, I tend to look back on 2011 and wonder what went wrong. As I review my list of last year's resolutions with dismay, I see that once again, I accomplished.....not one. My resolve to blog more faded as quickly as the ink on the coupon mailer in my front yard storm drain, evidence of yet another resolution gone by the wayside. Never could manage to get that thing all the way inside the front door, never mind actually cutting, organizing, then remembering the coupons. My clear-cut, specific, goal-oriented resolution to simplify, well, that one dissolved into frenzied chaos before I could manage to get the Christmas tree out the front door all while trying to avoid spilling thousands of dried pine needles. It was clearly not a banner year for resolutions.
Looking back, it's actually pretty easy to see why I failed. I mean, simplify, what does that mean exactly? Simplify what? How does anyone accomplish anything without a plan? When I reflect on the past year and look past the failed resolutions, though, I see that I achieved pursuits I didn't even have the foresight to include on my yearly list of failed attempts, I mean, New Year's resolutions. For instance, I shaved over one minute off of my mile time this year, running one in 8:45, instead of poking along at 10:00. That didn't require haphazardly scribbling down a list of well-intentioned goals at the beginning of a year, when, let's be frank, I was probably still coming down from red velvet cake and chocolate-butterscotch fudge-induced haze. It took waking up one summer day and declaring, "I am tired of being slow; today is the day I train harder and run faster," then, somewhat begrudgingly, dragging myself out of bed at 5 a.m. and hitting the treadmill, increasing my speed each week. Self-discipline and a plan.
I also notice my list of non-resolved endeavors for 2011 also includes creating and running a successful tutoring business (along with my awesome business partner, who fell in love, married, and moved away, but that's another day's tale). With no business background or knowledge, just a plan, grit, determination, and a lot of God's grace, I ran a successful business in 2011 with promise of an even better 2012. Two on a list of many: my sweet baby girl completing a successful first semester of kindergarten, my little man learning his alphabet and numbers through 20, small successes that built into quite a banner year.
And here I am again, contemplating my list of resolutions for 2012, wondering why I bother, but deep down, I know why. It's hope; it's the hope that accompanies the thrill of standing at the threshold of a new start, of a new year, of a new list of endless possibilities, including the prospect of getting it right this year, and if I fail, there's always next year. And this year, if I fail, I know from looking back, that there will be an entirely different list, one that is created in response to the day-to-day adversity that propels us to achieve without actually writing it down on January 1st. I am also reminded of Phillipians 1:6, "that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." That God himself, who could perfect us immediately, chooses to refine us through daily challenges, which include both successes and failures. So, this year, I will resolve yet again, not because I believe I'll accomplish without fail, but because I can dream and hope and know that life is a process that doesn't always require success. Perhaps it's in the failed lists of new year's past that we create new lists, real lists that truly do improve who we are and teach us what we really hope to become.
Looking back, it's actually pretty easy to see why I failed. I mean, simplify, what does that mean exactly? Simplify what? How does anyone accomplish anything without a plan? When I reflect on the past year and look past the failed resolutions, though, I see that I achieved pursuits I didn't even have the foresight to include on my yearly list of failed attempts, I mean, New Year's resolutions. For instance, I shaved over one minute off of my mile time this year, running one in 8:45, instead of poking along at 10:00. That didn't require haphazardly scribbling down a list of well-intentioned goals at the beginning of a year, when, let's be frank, I was probably still coming down from red velvet cake and chocolate-butterscotch fudge-induced haze. It took waking up one summer day and declaring, "I am tired of being slow; today is the day I train harder and run faster," then, somewhat begrudgingly, dragging myself out of bed at 5 a.m. and hitting the treadmill, increasing my speed each week. Self-discipline and a plan.
I also notice my list of non-resolved endeavors for 2011 also includes creating and running a successful tutoring business (along with my awesome business partner, who fell in love, married, and moved away, but that's another day's tale). With no business background or knowledge, just a plan, grit, determination, and a lot of God's grace, I ran a successful business in 2011 with promise of an even better 2012. Two on a list of many: my sweet baby girl completing a successful first semester of kindergarten, my little man learning his alphabet and numbers through 20, small successes that built into quite a banner year.
And here I am again, contemplating my list of resolutions for 2012, wondering why I bother, but deep down, I know why. It's hope; it's the hope that accompanies the thrill of standing at the threshold of a new start, of a new year, of a new list of endless possibilities, including the prospect of getting it right this year, and if I fail, there's always next year. And this year, if I fail, I know from looking back, that there will be an entirely different list, one that is created in response to the day-to-day adversity that propels us to achieve without actually writing it down on January 1st. I am also reminded of Phillipians 1:6, "that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." That God himself, who could perfect us immediately, chooses to refine us through daily challenges, which include both successes and failures. So, this year, I will resolve yet again, not because I believe I'll accomplish without fail, but because I can dream and hope and know that life is a process that doesn't always require success. Perhaps it's in the failed lists of new year's past that we create new lists, real lists that truly do improve who we are and teach us what we really hope to become.
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