Lists, love, and laundry…

IMG_8044

I should have known better than to give myself a deadline. Oh, dear.

So here is the question I’ve been thinking on: “IF home is a sacred place, a safe place, a place of wonder and merriment and joy, of loss and love, am I doing the things that honor that? AND, if I am in a sacred profession, could the mundane be magnificent? Can there be liturgy in the laundry?”

A plethora of wonderful, amazing writers have talked about their answer to this question. In fact, if I was honest, there are some bloggers I check in with every day simply because they inspire me to answer this question in a daily, thought out sort of way, a practical working out of what it means to be a woman who dwells at home. Perhaps one of the most noticeable things about home keeping is the fact that it is so diverse in needs and expressions; what I need for my family of seven does not resemble what a single woman living in a tiny apartment might need- and yet, there are similarities.  Each home where people find dwelling need a few obvious things: a place to get out of the weather, a place to eat, a place to sleep, and, to put it delicately, a place to be vulnerable. (Where are we more vulnerable than when we are in the bathroom, often naked or in some state of undress?) But the less obvious things are quite needful too: a place to find rest (as opposed to sleep), a place to love and be loved (even if it is only ourself), a place to dream big dreams, larger than the sky, that extend out beyond our roof into the stars, a place of safety in a world full of hurt, a place to believe, to work out our faith in an everyday sort of way, to test our hypotheses and find our conclusions.

Part of our existence in this twenty first century is a life full of hurry and want, both in the physical and metaphysical sense. We don’t have time to think or absorb what is happening because we are in a constant state of rushing, and while we may be well fulfilled in the monetary sense (or not, because we have yet to catch the Joneses at their game), we suffer from an extreme want of place, of rootedness, of family, of hope, of home. The sordid statistics tell the tale: the divorces, the wayward children, the crime rates, the welfare rolls.

But as any one who has had the task of keeping a home can tell, the art of homekeeping is a seemingly lost art, and some might argue, a lost goal. It is difficult to take this synergy of needs and apply an answer in the form of a ‘kept home’, where, as Mark Twain remarks “[Our house] had a  heart, and a soul, and eyes to see us with; and approvals and solicitudes, and deep sympathies; it was of us, and we were its confidence, and lived in its grace and in the peace of its benediction.” A home like that can’t be bought or sold- it can only be made. And it can only be made with the help of the Almighty. We can rely upon organizing gurus and books, clutter busting programs and a thousand lists, and we’ll never come close; empty tools void of the touch of the divine. That is not to say that those sort of things aren’t helpful- they can- but they are not the end point of home keeping. They are a small part, a little beginning.

Now what?

This is where the rubber meets the road, where everything has to be taken in balance and considered against those needs mentioned above. I think where I have been in error quite often is that I try to match a system that has worked great for another family to my own without ever stopping to consider or weigh it against what my family needs. Worse, up until recently, I never thought to pray about it! I never really thought about considering what I do as a worship-giving to the Lord. The whole idea of work as worship was foreign to me.

I struggle with extremes. Part of this is the way I am wired- God has made me to feel everything passionately and deeply. I don’t feel like I can go “by halves”, so a very real danger for me is to be more concerned about the end point than the moment in time I currently find myself. I was a gold star girl in school- I liked nothing better than to see that shiny little thing adorning my pages- which is all well and good, but perfectionism is a close cousin to gold stars if I don’t give them the proper balance. For some, this balance seems to come effortlessly. For me, it is a daily thing. I have to constantly re-evaluate and re-center, or I am liable to jump off the deep end without realizing.

I’ll try to get into what I am finding works well in the homekeeping arena in the next few days if possible. I apologize for my sporadic blogging. In the past, I would tend towards being more concerned about what was happening in my computer screen than in my home, and that’s all backwards…So- more sporadic blogging until this season has passed! *grins*

On the home front…

I am in preparation mode for a whirlwind of a month ahead. I have a graduation to attend, and wedding to photograph, and then the homeschool convention not too long after that— lots of traveling ahead.

And on the home front, my husband will be switching from second shift back to first shift, hallelujah! We never quite found a rhythm that worked well while he was on seconds although we did our best. We have missed seeing him. (Since he works well into the middle of the night, he needs to sleep till almost lunch time; and then we have maybe an hour or two before he has to return to work.) This is a transition we’ve looked forward to for months, but it is a transition just the same.

I have been carefully looking over our needs and considering where our time is well spent- evaluating what we need to do homeschooling-wise, and generally considering a different approach to home-keeping. I avoided schedules like the plague for a while, because I found that they were causing me to stumble; I was becoming slave to the list and not really living in the moment and considering what was truly needful, and what was not. But I am finding a need to return to them- my brain just does not work like it used to, and too much is forgotten in a day. ( I am embarrassed to admit the days we have forgotten math lessons because it is not written down! Then when I sit down at the end of the night to record the schoolwork completed that day, I finally remember, much too late.)

I have long since chucked my planning for this school year. The change in our schedule put too much stress upon it, so we took a week or two off and then started back a little slower. I am amazed to find that we are but a week or two off of my original , and have actually enjoyed a much richer diversity of subjects and interests in the intervening time. I find a lesson in this- sometimes I tend to over-think and overplan, and schooling is an area where too much of a good thing can be too much of a good thing. Relaxing and engaging in some delight-directed learning has helped us all get our joy back.

My biggest considerations right now are two-fold: what really needs to be accomplished each day in both the home-keeping and schooling, and secondly how can this be done in a way that simplifies and bring joy?

Tommorrow- thoughts on the new home-keeping routines, and Thursday- an update on the changes we’ve made this homeschooling year.

Starting new…

IMG_7926

I feel a bit shell-shocked, really.

You whole life flips over, into brand new territory, and yet, everything is the same.

Or is it?

I’m breathing easier. My heart is lighter.

I’m still pretty tired when the day comes to a close.

The laundry still spins endlessly, flip flop, in washer.

The yelling and screaming grates on my nerves, making my hair stand on end.

Oh for quiet and kindness!

But yet there are moments like this:

IMG_7952

The light is amazing here. And the kids are thriving, all noise aside.

They’ve run the barn, stem to stern. They’ve run the fields, gamboling about like lambs.

Happy moments dwell here.

I myself am struggling a bit. What do you do when the whole wide way opens before you, free as a bird?

You know that you don’t want to return to the old ways that served so ill, so what to do now?

Now that the boxes have been put away, the favorite books put in their place, the schooling materials out, the couches comfy, I find myself marking out new and yet quietly familiar paths.

I am hoping, above all else, that I have learned my hard lessons well, and the fruit will show in its’ time.

IMG_7968

LORD, you have assigned me my portion and my cup;
you have made my lot secure.

The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
surely I have a delightful inheritance. (Psalm 16:5-6)

Finding Home…

finding home

We are moving.

In a week.

To say that my brain is struggling to wrap around this idea is a bit of an understatement.

My childhood in the military would lead one to think that a transition such as this would be easy for me. I know the fine art of packed boxes and labels- what goes where and how; I know how much is too much and when to let it all go, out to the curb, to bless another family. I know all this. I even know how to do it alone, as my mother has done with countless moves–a reality with the month of March being the busiest month of the entire year for the business, and everyone required to work weekends. Moving, in and of itself, is not especially difficult.

Finding home…that’s the difficult part. It’s what makes it hard to watch a wee little dress pass through your hands, remembering the sweet little legs and arms that fit through it, countless times, now grown so small it fits her favorite baby doll. It’s breaking the crib down, realizing that you might never pass this way again. It is looking at four walls, one roof, doors and windows, and seeing so much more. Whispered confidences, daring prayers. Songs and songs and words upon words, every night, tucking one child after another in to downy warmth and sweetest dreams.

It is where you were brought low, built up, released and renewed.

And while you know that it is time, the walls grown close, the square footage crowded with the needs of five growing pairs of feet, you find yourself staring off, wondering if you will ever find home again.

For a home is not made of timber and mud, but of heart and sinew and love, and the physical things remind us of that. A random dress would mean nothing to another, but to me is priceless for the daring princess girl who filled its folds. And the difficult part of moving is always- wondering, hoping, remembering. With the physical exertion of lifted box, we lift memory too.

It is time, I know. But this sweet tiny house will always be my House of Dreams- it was where my life as mama and wife began, where I began to learn the gentle art of becoming woman, little girl no longer.

I’ll even miss the way the washer likes to eat infant socks and nursing camisoles, I swear. The strange trill that the refrigerator has always made. The funky whoosh of sound that shuddered through the house when the HVAC turned on. The mountain view. But mostly I’ll miss knowing that no more toddlers will learn to walk down the hallway perfect for leaning on as unsteady feet gambol about, for the laughter and joyful chaos often ringing in the rafters of the ceiling, for the many late nights of prayer and learning, nursing wee ones while I rest in the arms of the Father.

This is my little signpost, my Ebenezer. I am taking the moment to grieve and yet find joy in the excitement and change. We will find home again, I know it- for home is made of heart, and hand, and love, and faith- and these we have in abundance, no matter our physical location.

Love you, little white house with blue shutters. Thank you for the time we have spent within your walls.

Smack in the middle…

Pardon me while I wipe the salt play dough off my hands.

Sit down, grab a cup of lukewarm coffee. It was hot, I promise.

Ann sent me looking for beauty yesterday. I'd show you what I found, but my camera is having a "moment". Honestly, I'm not sure I'd have had the time to press shutter and catch it.

My head quakes with pressure- this ache has been playing around my temples for days- and the noise! Oh, the noise! It burns around the edges and sets me so close to fuse, explosion waiting on tip of tongue.

Chaos.

That's pretty much it. Nutshell, crisp and clean.

Daylight Savings Time has played mischief with sleep, children rising grumpier, and I know a week will pass until it calms down again. We've been at the learning, pushing, counting, wondering at facts, and while I enjoy that, the questions, endless round, come five o clock and dinner pushing on, tear at the fabric of my sanity.

I'm smack in the middle of everyday life.

I pause, hard stop, and shift.

Email clanging gives reminder that I am privileged to pray for others, with praise, with concern, with care.

The laundry is full to brim because of a little girl who hasn't quite managed the whole process yet, but oh how close she is! How she tries! And how proud I am of her…

(but if the boys could kindly keep their socks some vestige of white, the muddied washer and I would thank them. And don't get me started on their bathroom…)

And all the salt dough crumbles scattered across the floor mean we had a wondrous adventure across Mercury's skies…

I'm smack in the middle of everyday life.

Outside, storms threaten. Elections, votes, causes, concerns, illnesses, economies, lost jobs. How I know the face and color of the recession storm so well- have I not lived it these last fourteen months? The squalls, they crash and buffet.

I took the kids to find some beauty yesterday afternoon…to scramble over the hills and dales of an Appalachian fall in full bloom. I don't remember much of it. I wanted to snap pictures, gather a bit of scarlet and gold, find a snatch of beautiful. But Josiah, dear heart, had gone all day without napping, fussy as could be. David had somehow managed to remove both shoes and sweatshirt before sneaking into car, and barefoot and bare headed, came bounding out of car at the park. A return home for needed articles, and back to the park. The bigs were in a veritable grump. Nothing pleased, nothing soothed. Wild things, indeed, tromping angrily through the forest.

A sigh bubbled up.

Over in the corner, my husband was showing the children this wizened old tree, where some of the roots were showing. The detritus of autumn was all about, red, gold, green, brown, thick and fragrant. I paused to listen as he said told children how the roots went as twice as deep and wide as the tree above the earthen floor- I could see the truth of it in the gnarled roots we could see, maybe a quarter of the trees root system? It was a scattered conversation, and then the kids went crying and wilding again. We didn't stay long.

But for some reason, that tree has stuck with me all day to day. That tree, smack in the middle of the hill, the chunk of earth worn away from a side, but still standing tall and straight as the day is long. Holding against the storms that washed that chunk away.

Do I have that kind of root system?

That's why we search after beauty. That's why we count His days. So that we can dig deep and stand tall. Smack in the middle of our chaotic days, right where God wants us to be.

With salt dough mess on our hands and lukewarm coffee.

Blessings to you, dear friends, smack in the middle of life. May the Lord strengthen and keep you!

He’s home!

James was released Sunday afternoon. Praise the Lord! He is on some pretty hefty steroids to keep his lungs strong, but they felt comfortable enough with his improvement to allow him to go home. They'll keep close watch on him over the next week to make sure that the pneumonia has truly retreated.

He still has quite a recovery ahead of him, but he is so glad to be back to the comfort of home. I was reminded again of how pleasant it is to come home to comfort. I noted it after the miscarriage and subsequent surgery, and I saw it again as we returned home last night. You don't really notice it until there has been a lack of it. There is no comparison between a hospital room and a pleasantly appointed bed room. I could just see James relaxing for the first time in days as he slid under the cool soft sheets, with the ceiling fan blowing a light breeze. There was our quiet green painted walls and our favorite photographs to see just across the way, and a window out to our backyard to look at. We have soft lighting on either side of the bed…no overhead. Such a contrast to the dreary beige walls, harsh lighting, and rough sheets and blankets of the hospital! I think we often mistake a magazine perfect home with a friendly, comforting home. Sometimes they are the same things- being both pretty and functional, I mean. But I think it's so important to make sure your home is comfortable over being picture perfect. So what if the couch is the latest thing in furnishings- can you sink down in it with a good book and cuddle with the kids? Is it easy to clean? Will you often find a member of the family curled up on it? It truly doesn't take a lot of money, so much as it takes a bit of forethought and consideration. And isn't it interesting how a few pieces of home can make one feel comfortable in unpleasant settings? Your own pillow, the quilt from home…a favorite picture or two? And what little touches make a sick one feel better? A glass of water, an interesting book to read (or perhaps a new coloring book for a little one who must stay abed)…they only take a few minutes, but the little touches show how much the sick one is loved and cared for.

(Although, as James laughingly pointed out to one of the nurses, it won't be very long before we will return to the hospital- just a few weeks- but thankfully, it will be for a much happier reason. Only a few weeks until Bean makes his debut. My oldest, Ben, wanted to know why we didn't bring him home from the hospital yesterday, as he associates the hospital with me and having babies. What a giggle we had over that!)

It’s the little things…

It's June! June! June!

Which means that a certain appearance by a certain wee one is coming very, very soon. Just six more weeks!

June also means love for me, for him…it's our anniversary month. Singing a love song over my Beloved…very inspired by this challenge to prayer.

We've been traveling as well- my brother graduated a week ago Saturday- we were supposed to stay here at "Grandma Camp" until the homeschooling convention at the end of this week, but a sudden medical emergency in the family led to James and I heading back home for four days. My mom graciously offered to keep the children for the time (brave soul, isn't she?) and gracious, if they didn't have a total blast! They've been all over, seen all sorts of things…and they had to tell me all of this all at once this morning. I think, in translation, I heard something about a ship museum, a firehouse, seeing a butterfly, a lighthouse, ponies, sending a code across the wire, and a sandy beach. Oh, and feathers. Quite the adventures, I tell you. Pictures coming soon, I promise.

We slipped back into Grandma's house yesterday night, after everyone had already drifted off to sleep. Come this morning, I awoke before the children did, waiting. Isaiah's blonde downy head popped up first, and he smiled shyly when he realized just who was sitting in front of him…"Mommy!" He crawled up in my lap, wrapping himself up double so that he would fit around my baby belly, curled on to my shoulder, and sighed contentedly. A few minutes later he was whispering about all the adventures he had been on, his voice getting more and more animated, and soon Lorelei's curly head appeared beside us…"Mamamamamama! " She joined in to the story telling, and Daddy was soon awake and listening too…Lorelei's sweet voice "Uv you daddy, Uv you mommy"…and then Ben awoke, his brown, brown hair peeking over the edge of the bed. "Mommy! How did you get in here! I didn't see you come in!"  Can I just say how much fun it was to suprise them? I smiled as each kiddo would look at me in suprise and then recognition, and then the big grins and smiles as they realized I was "really, real!" Those little moments- they are the best in the world, treasures of the highest measure. When I went to get David out of his crib, he looked at me, with the biggest, sleepiest smile, and said "mama!" in full recognition…I about cried. He has never said it before, and it was so sweet…'course, he's been saying 'dada' for months and months and I felt a wee bit left out. Such a gift it was!

It's the little things, the little moments, that make it all worth while. It was lovely to have such a precious reminder this morning.

Backseat buddies…

IMG_3864

(I love how Isaiah's glasses are always slipped down his nose. No matter what I do, they will not stay where they belong!)

These two. Man, are they getting big. And tall. And very boy-man like. And opinionated. And rough and tumble. And gracious, can they get muddy in a heartbeat! There's no baby to them anymore, which is just as it should be. (Though they will always be my babies. *smiles*) They are fourteen months apart. Depending on the time of year, I often get asked if they are twins. They are best buds and each other's worst enemy at the same time. The depth of their love for each other is deep, deep, deep. They will fight each other like you wouldn't believe, but woe to the person who picks on either of them- the other will come to the brother's defense in a heartbeat. Never mind that said brother was just picking on him a moment before!

I guess I am just having a mama moment. I cannot get over these two- how big they are, all the things they've learned this year, all the stuff they've accomplished. Growing in so many ways. Feeling a bit inadequate to the task of being their mama- we're moving into the elementary years now, which I have absolutely no experience with. Toddlers, now, I'm pretty familiar with that path! But elementary boys with big big questions and big big hearts? I just want to do my best and help them grow.

I'll have two pairs of "twins" with my sweet princess girl in the middle. Our ultrasound today was quite definitive…Mr. Healthy Bean was being quite photogenic. Such amazing pictures we got today! Even his little toes!

Me. Momma to four boys and my song-filled girl. Wow.

Making messes in the kitchen…

I was reading an article the other day about how making a mess is not necessarily a bad thing for creativity. It makes total sense to me. How's this for creative messes in the kitchen?

Over here:
IMG_4230
Over there:
IMG_4219
I like theirs better- so bright and colorful on such a dreary day. My bread, on the other hand, came out oddly. I must have forgotten an ingredient or something…it was half risen and salty tasting instead of the yummy yeasty goodness we love! So maybe not all messes are fruitful. Blech. Maybe the birds will like it?

Weaving the threads…

    Our first semester of home schooling is wrapping up this week, and I find myself looking back over the last five months and evaluating how things have gone so far. The most noticeable thing for me has been the flexibility inherent in a home school curriculum. We technically started school July 2nd (which I chronicled here) and will end this Friday, Dec.19th. At first, I was a bit overwhelmed at the fact that Ben wanted to start early- while I didn't feel unprepared exactly, I felt like I wasn't quite ready. Homeschooling with babies underfoot is quite the undertaking, and I won't deny that. This was my primary fear, I think, as we began: could I keep everything balanced between the needs of my school children and the needs of my babies? I think we found a sweet spot with that about late September, early October, and we've followed a similar rhythm of routine since then. But back to the flexibility: We worked from July to the 1st of August, at which point we went on a vacation to celebrate my best friend's wedding. Unbenowst to me, I began to miscarry during that wedding weekend. By the time we returned, the roller coaster of losing the baby and the surgery began, stretching from the 11th of August to the the 23rd, with the surgery falling on the 20th of August. A whole month was "lost" (but not really, upon examination). My mother was able to pick up with the children during the last week of August, and schooled them for a week and a half until I was feeling well enough to return to teaching them. We then worked, with decent regularity, for the next two months into November. It didn't feel that way at the time, actually. Isaiah had multiple therapy appointments on different days and covering two towns in the process (vision, speech, physical, and occupational). It seemed like everything was all over the map, literally and figuratively. Looking back at my homeschool journal, though, we got through the lessons, as planned- fitted in around the multiple car trips and appointments. Our school day probably didn't look very typical, but that's fine- that's what homeschooling is all about. We stopped schooling again in the middle of November, in part due to Thanksgiving break, but also to a week of doctors' appointments and sickness. We picked back up the first week of December. All this to say, according to the 'traditional' school calendar (using our local school district for reference), we should be at week 17 in the lesson plans. Amazingly, we are right on track for the year, ending at week 17, right on schedrule. This is the beauty of homeschooling- I can't imagine what this would have looked like if Ben and Isaiah had been in a traditional school setting. Just thinking about signing Isaiah in and out of school for therapy appointments makes my eyes cross. Sonlight has been a great fit for us this semester, in so many ways.
    Ben, so far, is doing very well. We are still struggling a bit with reading, but it has come along steadily. I am trying to find the balance between 'fun' and required to help encourage him in this area. Writing is similar- his handwriting is improving steadily (he's using the first grade curriculum from Handwriting Without Tears, which I can't reccomend enough.) He absolutely loves math and science, and would double or triple his math lessons regularly if I let him. (I do sometimes, but I am more concerned with mastery and understanding over speed.)
   The enviornment that home schooling provides for Isaiah is so, so important. Everyday he gets highly individualized, tailored instruction from me at his skill level,  something that would not be available in a traditional setting. With his Sensory Processing Disorder, he struggles with some of the basic skills: following directions, sitting erect in a chair, holding a pencil properly and applying appropriate pressure to the the paper, sequencing- all are a struggle. He lacks the muscle control that a normal kindergartner would have. We have yet to start a "math" curriculum with him but continue to do 'real-life' counting in conjuction with physical activity, like counting to ten while hopping. Both are very important for his development right now. And by helping to integrate his body with his mind on multiple dimensions, it helps with the sensory processing. (In short, SPD kids struggle with integration- where is my body, what is my body doing, what is my brain saying to my body.) He's whip smart, which you probably wouldn't notice if you could only see his failure to perform typical kindergarter skills. He is interested in science, and is almost reading (he has picked it up much faster than Ben has), and if his muscle control wasn't such an issue, would probably write stories. Right now he settles for writting long scribbles that look like sentences. (And while he thinks he's not doing anything, he's actually doing a lot. Just having the patience and control over the pencil for that long and leaning all the scribbles in the same direction says a lot for his prewriting skills.) He seems to struggle very much with sequencing both in the logical and practical sense: like beginning, middle, and end (this happened, and then this happened…), math skills often show skipped numbers or no understanding of which number comes next or before, and when you lay colored beads in a pattern, he can copy it exactly, but can't figure out which colored bead would come next in the sequence. So we're gonna keep working on that, both here at home and with his therapists.
    It's gone a bit better than I expected, and a bit worse for the wear. I see things that I will definitely change for next semester that (hopefully) will allow things to run a bit smoother. The boys definitely need a folder to keep their language arts and Explode the Code work in, because I am so tired of trying to figure out who has done what when and how! (Especially since I make copies!) Isaiah will probably start with Math U See in January- we'll see how it goes there. It seems to make a lot more sense to his brain, than, say, Ben's Horizon (Alpha Omega) curriculum. I really want to adjust our morning routine so that we finish our 'home' routine and then move into our 'school' routine with less bumps and breaks. I think that I am going to focus most of our reading assignments during that time and then move into the individualized work from there. We'll see.

——-
In a related vein:

  • Tonia did a series of "field notes" that cover what she is currently experiencing as all of her children are moving into the middle school and high school years. She offers an important perspective from someone who has been at this adventure for a while.
  • Ann has a ton, and I do mean a ton, of homeschooling posts, all of which are encouraging and inspiring. Sometimes when I have a really rough day, I go re-read the archives to get refreshed and encouraged and ready for battle again. Highly recommended.
  • Molly, of Mommycoddle, wrote such a clear, concise, 'this is why I homeschool' article on Momformation that is just dead on. Great article to hand to family members and the like at those requisite holiday gatherings who are questioning your sanity for homeschooling.
Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...