Dinner.
I just hate it.
No one is ever satisfied.
Syrian children - they would appreciate it. Not mine. There is wailing and gnashing of teeth like I am trying to feed them shoe leather or cats brains.
So here it is 5:50 pm I don't know what I will make.
I will drag my feet until I admit if I don't feed them soon I can't make them go to bed.
Of course I feel guilty about this. Because it is part of my job requirement.
Stay at home moms should cook for their family.
Everyone else is doing what their job requires of them. Right? But I am a slacker.
An uninspired slacking cook and I know it.
Maybe fresh zucchini will fix it but there is none yet and I am pretty sure it will only last for about 2 of them.
I think once upon a time I liked cooking. I don't know what happened. The Everyday Food magazine stopped publication. The fatigue of trying to get little people to eat mere morsels of anything new.
The work, the expense, the time, the clean-up, the dis-gratitude.
All the cooking shows in the world and I don't think I can be motivated to salt my chicken the night before. Or even figure out what we will eat the day before.
Perhaps this is just indicative to the pervasiveness of slow rot in every area of my life.
Maybe if I could root out the rot the inspiration would come back.
And I wouldn't hate...
Dinner.
Saturday, December 01, 2018
Confession
(Drafted in June)
I use to read the Bible everyday. Everyday, even if just a few verses. I didn't always feel moved by what I read but I felt that the habit was valuable to continue. I did it for decades not just years.
Then, I just didn't do it one night, then another, then another.
I read the kids Bible stories all the time. I tell myself that's enough. But it is not. I know because I am living with my soul. My soul is thirsty. My soul is dry. My soul is longing. My soul is not feed.
It's been 3 years since I had a Bible study. No group of women I could dig deep with. No group of people to be insightful with.
No feasting. No spark. No refreshing.
I am the field of dry bones.
Breath new life into me.
Give me fresh eyes to see.
I use to read the Bible everyday. Everyday, even if just a few verses. I didn't always feel moved by what I read but I felt that the habit was valuable to continue. I did it for decades not just years.
Then, I just didn't do it one night, then another, then another.
I read the kids Bible stories all the time. I tell myself that's enough. But it is not. I know because I am living with my soul. My soul is thirsty. My soul is dry. My soul is longing. My soul is not feed.
It's been 3 years since I had a Bible study. No group of women I could dig deep with. No group of people to be insightful with.
No feasting. No spark. No refreshing.
I am the field of dry bones.
Breath new life into me.
Give me fresh eyes to see.
Flash of Scarlet
(Drafted in June)
The hummingbird has become an almost daily visitor. We catch a glimpse. He slips away.
The hummingbird has become an almost daily visitor. We catch a glimpse. He slips away.
He sips the coral bells and zips off into the maple tree. Raising the question does he have a nest there? What kind of nests to hummingbirds have?
This day he lingered and investigated the running sprinkler as well as the coral bells.
He seemed to drink the drops in the air. A feat only a hummingbird could manage?
He flashed his scarlet throat; its vibrancy like a fire of color. An other worldly color, something more akin to a burning bush and Holy Ground.
A fire I have felt fading.
That blessed flashy throat, that longer than usual linger of a tiny bird was like a fresh needed air.
With your quick wings fan the fire.
Why I love Being Your Mother 2018
My yearly tradition thwarted because I was sick in bed on Mother's Day.
I could try to do it today on a day when you both have worked hard at my sanctification.
For some reason, I am having a hard time with this. Partly, because I feel woefully inadequate as your mother. I am desperately afraid of screwing you up. Of you not being successful and it all coming squarely back to my shoulders. Because you are with me all day and I am your teacher as well as your mom. I am afraid some day you will grow up and not call me for weeks at a time. I am afraid you won't remember the good. But will instead act out every bad habit you learned from me.
Moms are human. We struggle with self control and being kind too. Some days our tone is harsh and you don't understand what hormones are yet.
I won't stop trying though.
Because at the end of the day, I want you to be better than me.
I want you to inspire people to stronger faith.
I want you to be the one who is kind to the ones others are mean too.
I want you to go into the world and make it better.
You are 2 of the most creative kids I know and you could fill the world with your invention ideas, songs and stories. Your chatter makes my head swirl some times but you are full of spirit and sparkle.
I am believing that one day all good stuff that brews in your brains and is contained in your hearts will combine with the hopes I have for you... to God be the Glory.
I could try to do it today on a day when you both have worked hard at my sanctification.
For some reason, I am having a hard time with this. Partly, because I feel woefully inadequate as your mother. I am desperately afraid of screwing you up. Of you not being successful and it all coming squarely back to my shoulders. Because you are with me all day and I am your teacher as well as your mom. I am afraid some day you will grow up and not call me for weeks at a time. I am afraid you won't remember the good. But will instead act out every bad habit you learned from me.
Moms are human. We struggle with self control and being kind too. Some days our tone is harsh and you don't understand what hormones are yet.
I won't stop trying though.
Because at the end of the day, I want you to be better than me.
I want you to inspire people to stronger faith.
I want you to be the one who is kind to the ones others are mean too.
I want you to go into the world and make it better.
You are 2 of the most creative kids I know and you could fill the world with your invention ideas, songs and stories. Your chatter makes my head swirl some times but you are full of spirit and sparkle.
I am believing that one day all good stuff that brews in your brains and is contained in your hearts will combine with the hopes I have for you... to God be the Glory.
Saturday, August 25, 2018
When a Memory Smells
There are certain smells that can take me back in time.
If I go into a local hardware store, I am transported to Moffa's Hardware Store. Joe or Frank is at the counter, "What can I do for you?" The black and green check floor is worn. I am 10 year old getting nails with dad or 20 years old and watching with amazement as one of the Moffa brothers mixes paint.
My Grandparent's house has its own smell. A mixture of Wisk, Cedar and stubborn love. I noticed it every time I walked in.
Things are being cleared out of their house now. Although the house will stay in the family, they will make it their own -as they should. That unique smell that has always been a welcoming sensation will probably fade away. The dismantling of a home has been hard on this heart of mine. I think it has been hard on most of us. It was a home away from home for so many of us. The photos on the walls, every grandchild's senior photo up in a matching frames, old photos of great great grandmothers... The empty Meletti Anisette bottle in the back room of the basement, precious moments and Precious Moments in the 100s. They are all so apart of the fibers of my soul. They are the things you could always count on seeing and never changing. Until now. Left only in our memories and the few things we took to remind us of the lifetime we lived with them.
Sometimes, I will drink in those few articles of clothes I took from her closet and smell Gram.
For a moment, I am in the back room with her. Jeopardy is on. She will be keeping track of the Phillies game later. I will clip the coupons she saved for me. Her soft crooked fingers are holding mine...
If I go into a local hardware store, I am transported to Moffa's Hardware Store. Joe or Frank is at the counter, "What can I do for you?" The black and green check floor is worn. I am 10 year old getting nails with dad or 20 years old and watching with amazement as one of the Moffa brothers mixes paint.
My Grandparent's house has its own smell. A mixture of Wisk, Cedar and stubborn love. I noticed it every time I walked in.
Things are being cleared out of their house now. Although the house will stay in the family, they will make it their own -as they should. That unique smell that has always been a welcoming sensation will probably fade away. The dismantling of a home has been hard on this heart of mine. I think it has been hard on most of us. It was a home away from home for so many of us. The photos on the walls, every grandchild's senior photo up in a matching frames, old photos of great great grandmothers... The empty Meletti Anisette bottle in the back room of the basement, precious moments and Precious Moments in the 100s. They are all so apart of the fibers of my soul. They are the things you could always count on seeing and never changing. Until now. Left only in our memories and the few things we took to remind us of the lifetime we lived with them.
Sometimes, I will drink in those few articles of clothes I took from her closet and smell Gram.
For a moment, I am in the back room with her. Jeopardy is on. She will be keeping track of the Phillies game later. I will clip the coupons she saved for me. Her soft crooked fingers are holding mine...
The Vacuum
Facebook Timeline reminded me that 7 years ago Grandpop went to the hospital.
It was the beginning of the end.
Two days before it had been Father's Day and Pop had been down on the floor with little Walter crawling around. I was impressed that a man weeks from turning 90 could still get on the floor like that. He had been out in the yard working, his pants hiked up around his skinny waist.
Soon he would be gone. There would be a vacuum.
A vacuum that still exists 7 years without him.
I miss his stories.
I miss his smell.
I miss his squishy hands.
Honestly, it still baffles me that after 7 years the missing him hasn't really faded.
It was the beginning of the end.
Two days before it had been Father's Day and Pop had been down on the floor with little Walter crawling around. I was impressed that a man weeks from turning 90 could still get on the floor like that. He had been out in the yard working, his pants hiked up around his skinny waist.
Soon he would be gone. There would be a vacuum.
A vacuum that still exists 7 years without him.
I miss his stories.
I miss his smell.
I miss his squishy hands.
Honestly, it still baffles me that after 7 years the missing him hasn't really faded.
Monday, August 20, 2018
February 20
There are 46 years between February 20, 1972 and February 20, 2018.
On these dates, I lost both my grandmoms. One I never knew, who died 3 months before my parents got married. And the one I always knew and have had to figure out how to live without.
No more dinner prep phone calls to ask a question.
No more "I am out taking a walk" phone calls to catch up on the days.
No more sitting together to watch a Hallmark movie.
No more cards in the mail.
But also no more pain.
No more feeling useless or bored.
But why the same day?
Why did my mom lose both her mom and her mother-in-law on the same date?
Why did I lose both of my Grams on the same date?
Just irony?
A bittersweet comfort?
A keen way to remember them both?
It's a date I won't forget.
Today, it has been 6 months since February 20, 2018 and the urge to pick up a phone is still there.
On these dates, I lost both my grandmoms. One I never knew, who died 3 months before my parents got married. And the one I always knew and have had to figure out how to live without.
No more dinner prep phone calls to ask a question.
No more "I am out taking a walk" phone calls to catch up on the days.
No more sitting together to watch a Hallmark movie.
No more cards in the mail.
But also no more pain.
No more feeling useless or bored.
But why the same day?
Why did my mom lose both her mom and her mother-in-law on the same date?
Why did I lose both of my Grams on the same date?
Just irony?
A bittersweet comfort?
A keen way to remember them both?
It's a date I won't forget.
Today, it has been 6 months since February 20, 2018 and the urge to pick up a phone is still there.
Sunday, August 19, 2018
Floodgates
It's been so long since I wrote anything I kind of feel like the floodgates may break open and wash out everything in it path. I am not sure if that will be a good thing or a bad.
I guess it depends on who or what is in the way.
But I have to do something.
I have to write something.
Because I am loosing myself,
I feel myself fading away like a fire left unattended.
I guess it depends on who or what is in the way.
But I have to do something.
I have to write something.
Because I am loosing myself,
I feel myself fading away like a fire left unattended.
Wednesday, December 27, 2017
Christmas Letter 2017
Dear Family and Friends,
I know many of you enjoy hearing our “Higgins Highlights”, so I will indulge you just a little and maybe it will fill your heart...
We are fast approaching 2 years living in the Old Stone House. We still love it. We also discovered the house is much older than thought -1850. So it was standing while the Civil War raged and the Confederates marched nearby on their way to York and then Gettysburg.
Big Walter is chipping away at our new basement bathroom, we now have a shower that doesn’t leak! We singlehandedly liquidated Home Depot’s stash of clearance trees. We are hopeful the spring will unfold happy new crabapples and willow oaks. We made a trip to Little Rock this summer. I think we picked the hottest week of the summer to go but everyone had a good visit and no one got carsick!
Walter is in 2nd grade. Over the past year he has become quite a proficient reader. He burns the midnight oil pouring over Star Wars books and whatever else he has brought home from the library. Rosie is in Kindergarten. She is breezing through her math book; I can hardly keep up with her. They both have been learning about American history and all the States and Capitals. We are proud of what they have retained. The two of them (I can hear them now) always play together. A princess drives a tank or Hess truck. Stuffed animals prepare for space travel or to visit Doc McStuffins. Somehow they mesh each other’s favorite toys to play together.
Little Walter, I think, has won over Rose’s heart for the singer Keith Green. Some of you will ask who is Keith Green? Keith Green was a Christian singer or par and friends with Bob Dylan. (A name you are more likely to know.) He was a prolific musician and songwriter in the 70s and early 80s. He wrote a treasure trove of worship songs. I read an autobiography about him many years ago and it literally transformed my life. So every once in awhile, usually around Easter, I pull out Keith Green. Walter just grew to love Keith Green’s music. He has many songs memorized. Rosie not so much, she would groan. But over the last couple weeks her tune has changed. I catch her singing along. She seems to love his music now. Keith Green died in a plane crash 35 years ago but what a legacy he left! His music is played in station wagons & minivans across America and churches throughout the world. YouTube is full of him. People are still listening and having their hearts changed, transformed and renewed. I am thankful my kids are among them.
Our real highlights are the little lights that shine in the hearts of our children as they play together. They shine when life looks a little dim and remind us as they sing along with Keith, “Oh Lord Your are Beautiful”, “There is a Redeemer” and “You Put this Love in My Heart” and these are all messages that are as timeless today as they were in 1979 and are the same truths that have been sung to a different tunes over the past 2000 years…
We wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy 2018 and may your heart be full of His Beauty and Love because -There is a Redeemer.
Blessings,
Walter, Liz, Walter and Rose
I know many of you enjoy hearing our “Higgins Highlights”, so I will indulge you just a little and maybe it will fill your heart...
We are fast approaching 2 years living in the Old Stone House. We still love it. We also discovered the house is much older than thought -1850. So it was standing while the Civil War raged and the Confederates marched nearby on their way to York and then Gettysburg.
Big Walter is chipping away at our new basement bathroom, we now have a shower that doesn’t leak! We singlehandedly liquidated Home Depot’s stash of clearance trees. We are hopeful the spring will unfold happy new crabapples and willow oaks. We made a trip to Little Rock this summer. I think we picked the hottest week of the summer to go but everyone had a good visit and no one got carsick!
Walter is in 2nd grade. Over the past year he has become quite a proficient reader. He burns the midnight oil pouring over Star Wars books and whatever else he has brought home from the library. Rosie is in Kindergarten. She is breezing through her math book; I can hardly keep up with her. They both have been learning about American history and all the States and Capitals. We are proud of what they have retained. The two of them (I can hear them now) always play together. A princess drives a tank or Hess truck. Stuffed animals prepare for space travel or to visit Doc McStuffins. Somehow they mesh each other’s favorite toys to play together.
Little Walter, I think, has won over Rose’s heart for the singer Keith Green. Some of you will ask who is Keith Green? Keith Green was a Christian singer or par and friends with Bob Dylan. (A name you are more likely to know.) He was a prolific musician and songwriter in the 70s and early 80s. He wrote a treasure trove of worship songs. I read an autobiography about him many years ago and it literally transformed my life. So every once in awhile, usually around Easter, I pull out Keith Green. Walter just grew to love Keith Green’s music. He has many songs memorized. Rosie not so much, she would groan. But over the last couple weeks her tune has changed. I catch her singing along. She seems to love his music now. Keith Green died in a plane crash 35 years ago but what a legacy he left! His music is played in station wagons & minivans across America and churches throughout the world. YouTube is full of him. People are still listening and having their hearts changed, transformed and renewed. I am thankful my kids are among them.
Our real highlights are the little lights that shine in the hearts of our children as they play together. They shine when life looks a little dim and remind us as they sing along with Keith, “Oh Lord Your are Beautiful”, “There is a Redeemer” and “You Put this Love in My Heart” and these are all messages that are as timeless today as they were in 1979 and are the same truths that have been sung to a different tunes over the past 2000 years…
We wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy 2018 and may your heart be full of His Beauty and Love because -There is a Redeemer.
Blessings,
Walter, Liz, Walter and Rose
Sunday, September 10, 2017
Be the Hero
From June 2016...
You are a little boy. You are too consumed with Legos to know the terrible things that go on in the world. It is as it should be.
However, one of the reasons for this blog is that you may learn from me in a different way someday down the road. So....
You see I read this quote today. "No matter how old your son is, now is a good time to start talking to him about how you expect him to be the Swedish bicyclist and not the Stanford swimmer." -Matthew Levie
In the news, this week is the story of a Stanford swimmer who assaulted a young woman. He claims it was the alcohol that made him do it. I am sure it contributed. The swimmer made bad choices and is unremorseful. For what he did though -the emotional scars the woman will deal with all her life- the punishment was hardly enough. It is a true judicial disgrace. People are all in an uproar.
You can read about all the details just google: "Brock Turner Standford Swimmer"
This quote really struck me though. You know I am all about making the best choice. I give you choices all the time. I spell them out very clearly. I tell you what the consequences will be if you make the wrong choice.
Learning to make a good choice as a child, will help you make good choices as an adult.
I do this because I do want you to be the Swedish bicyclists. They saw something didn't look right and they didn't keep going. They asked the hard questions? They didn't let fear stop them from chasing down the bad guy. They were the heroes in this story.
I want you to be the hero. To be ready to stop and help. To ask the hard questions. To protect the hurt and broken. To do the right thing. I expect it.
As your mom, I will do all that is in my power to help you learn what the best choices are. So when you are tempted or challenged or witness someone who needs your help, you can stand strong and make the right choice. Because heroes aren't made in a moment, they are made one right choice after another.
Be the hero of your story.
You are a little boy. You are too consumed with Legos to know the terrible things that go on in the world. It is as it should be.
However, one of the reasons for this blog is that you may learn from me in a different way someday down the road. So....
You see I read this quote today. "No matter how old your son is, now is a good time to start talking to him about how you expect him to be the Swedish bicyclist and not the Stanford swimmer." -Matthew Levie
In the news, this week is the story of a Stanford swimmer who assaulted a young woman. He claims it was the alcohol that made him do it. I am sure it contributed. The swimmer made bad choices and is unremorseful. For what he did though -the emotional scars the woman will deal with all her life- the punishment was hardly enough. It is a true judicial disgrace. People are all in an uproar.
You can read about all the details just google: "Brock Turner Standford Swimmer"
This quote really struck me though. You know I am all about making the best choice. I give you choices all the time. I spell them out very clearly. I tell you what the consequences will be if you make the wrong choice.
Learning to make a good choice as a child, will help you make good choices as an adult.
I do this because I do want you to be the Swedish bicyclists. They saw something didn't look right and they didn't keep going. They asked the hard questions? They didn't let fear stop them from chasing down the bad guy. They were the heroes in this story.
I want you to be the hero. To be ready to stop and help. To ask the hard questions. To protect the hurt and broken. To do the right thing. I expect it.
As your mom, I will do all that is in my power to help you learn what the best choices are. So when you are tempted or challenged or witness someone who needs your help, you can stand strong and make the right choice. Because heroes aren't made in a moment, they are made one right choice after another.
Be the hero of your story.
Sunday, May 14, 2017
Why I Love Being Your Mom - 2017
Dear Walter,
Oh my boy, how emotional I was the day your first little tooth broke through you gum line. Your gummy grin was changed forever. I was equally emotional the day that same tooth fell out. You have grown so much this year. You are secure and confident, when I drop you off for a Sunday school class, Kids Club and CC. Gone are the days when you clung to me. Part of me is a little sad because it means you are growing up but it most of me is proud because you can do it now. You can wave bye and go do your thing.
You read well. Love to build things and with great patience too! You come up with great creations and clever ideas. You have this idea for "Walter's Outlet." You are always saying "At Walter's Outlet, I will have transforming ... and I will have ...." It sounds as though you want to meld together Walmart, Dutch Wonderland, Crayola, Home Depot, and an Army depo all into one place. With ample parking and nice bathrooms. I don't know what will become of this idea, but I like that you are full of ideas and I am trusting that as time marches on, as I know it will, that you will discover the plan God has for you. We are always talking about making right choices and making choices that will make God happy. I know you want this. You say you just want to keep learning more and more about Jesus. There is also more to learn.
You love TobyMac and Keith Green, you have Psalm 23 nearly memorized. You love digging in the dirt and you hate writing and subtraction (so did I). You say I am cute and kiss my nose.
It doesn't seem quite fair that you have to grow up so fast. I wish I could go back just for little bit to little baby Wawa. But 7 year old Wawa is a pretty great too. I ask you to do something and you say, "Got it." I know you love me with all your heart and that is best feeling in the world.
Dear Rosie,
You are the princess. You snuggle me in the early morning. You are stubborn and want to do things on your own but you also want to be carried. You are my little helper in the garden and you love doing school work.
There are days I feel like I fail to give you everything you want. There just doesn't seem to be enough time in the day for all the tea parties you want to have. But you forgive me anyhow.
You are growing too fast that is for sure. You are fun to watch and listen to when you don't know I am listening. You make your dolls, critters, princesses talk and you make up funny songs to go along. You have quite the imagination that is for sure.
You both play so nicely together. It is always a marvel to me and source of great joy because I know many siblings don't get along as well as the two of you. You are the best of friends and I hope you will always be that way for one another.
Love,
Mom
Oh my boy, how emotional I was the day your first little tooth broke through you gum line. Your gummy grin was changed forever. I was equally emotional the day that same tooth fell out. You have grown so much this year. You are secure and confident, when I drop you off for a Sunday school class, Kids Club and CC. Gone are the days when you clung to me. Part of me is a little sad because it means you are growing up but it most of me is proud because you can do it now. You can wave bye and go do your thing.
You read well. Love to build things and with great patience too! You come up with great creations and clever ideas. You have this idea for "Walter's Outlet." You are always saying "At Walter's Outlet, I will have transforming ... and I will have ...." It sounds as though you want to meld together Walmart, Dutch Wonderland, Crayola, Home Depot, and an Army depo all into one place. With ample parking and nice bathrooms. I don't know what will become of this idea, but I like that you are full of ideas and I am trusting that as time marches on, as I know it will, that you will discover the plan God has for you. We are always talking about making right choices and making choices that will make God happy. I know you want this. You say you just want to keep learning more and more about Jesus. There is also more to learn.
You love TobyMac and Keith Green, you have Psalm 23 nearly memorized. You love digging in the dirt and you hate writing and subtraction (so did I). You say I am cute and kiss my nose.
It doesn't seem quite fair that you have to grow up so fast. I wish I could go back just for little bit to little baby Wawa. But 7 year old Wawa is a pretty great too. I ask you to do something and you say, "Got it." I know you love me with all your heart and that is best feeling in the world.
Dear Rosie,
You are the princess. You snuggle me in the early morning. You are stubborn and want to do things on your own but you also want to be carried. You are my little helper in the garden and you love doing school work.
There are days I feel like I fail to give you everything you want. There just doesn't seem to be enough time in the day for all the tea parties you want to have. But you forgive me anyhow.
You are growing too fast that is for sure. You are fun to watch and listen to when you don't know I am listening. You make your dolls, critters, princesses talk and you make up funny songs to go along. You have quite the imagination that is for sure.
You both play so nicely together. It is always a marvel to me and source of great joy because I know many siblings don't get along as well as the two of you. You are the best of friends and I hope you will always be that way for one another.
Love,
Mom
Friday, June 10, 2016
Moving Dates
When on the verge of a birthday - a big one like 30 or 40 - you have a little time to prepare. The date is not going to change on you either. You know when it will happen. You can process and cry over it in the days, weeks and in my case months in advance. That is just how I work.
I process the drama of something before it happens so when I turned 30 I had had my breakdown about it months before. Though to be accurate I may have had a 2nd breakdown months after too!
When 40 was around the corner, I tackled it months before so I could make it a happy day.
But when the looming date is a closing date on a house. It is not a fixed date. There is wiggle room and a date that is out of my control.
You might say they keep moving my cheese.
My processing is all over the place. One minute I am thinking about paint colors and the next I am crying because its too soon there were things I wanted to finish up - classes, Bible Study.
So far I don't have a fixed date or a timeline to adjust too. So I am all over the calendar with hardly a dry eye on Sundays.
(written in the fall of 2015)
I process the drama of something before it happens so when I turned 30 I had had my breakdown about it months before. Though to be accurate I may have had a 2nd breakdown months after too!
When 40 was around the corner, I tackled it months before so I could make it a happy day.
But when the looming date is a closing date on a house. It is not a fixed date. There is wiggle room and a date that is out of my control.
You might say they keep moving my cheese.
My processing is all over the place. One minute I am thinking about paint colors and the next I am crying because its too soon there were things I wanted to finish up - classes, Bible Study.
So far I don't have a fixed date or a timeline to adjust too. So I am all over the calendar with hardly a dry eye on Sundays.
(written in the fall of 2015)
Wednesday, June 08, 2016
Peace on Board
We have been looking for a house all year. Looking forward to a house even longer.
When what we needed wasn't showing up the search area expanded.
Then we found a house. A house with character. Which we always wanted.
He liked it at first. I was not convinced. It is so far from my family (almost 3 hours) and certainly would require leaving our church. Which I guess I always knew would have to be the case though I thought I could transition out of a church that was 45 minutes away rather than go cold turkey from one 1.45 minutes away.
So I was told of a couple from my hometown who lives in the same area and was told they "love it" out there. So I did a little facebook stalking and based on what I could see they love it out there!
This peace - you know the peace that surpasses all understanding- washed over me, If they can raise a couple of happy kids there, so can we.
So I was onboard.
However, that has not stopped me from coming home from church everyday for the last month or more with wet eyes, a red nose and the regret of ever putting on mascara.
(written in the fall of 2015)
When what we needed wasn't showing up the search area expanded.
Then we found a house. A house with character. Which we always wanted.
He liked it at first. I was not convinced. It is so far from my family (almost 3 hours) and certainly would require leaving our church. Which I guess I always knew would have to be the case though I thought I could transition out of a church that was 45 minutes away rather than go cold turkey from one 1.45 minutes away.
So I was told of a couple from my hometown who lives in the same area and was told they "love it" out there. So I did a little facebook stalking and based on what I could see they love it out there!
This peace - you know the peace that surpasses all understanding- washed over me, If they can raise a couple of happy kids there, so can we.
So I was onboard.
However, that has not stopped me from coming home from church everyday for the last month or more with wet eyes, a red nose and the regret of ever putting on mascara.
(written in the fall of 2015)
Monday, June 06, 2016
Our Classic Fathers
I went to school for Elementary Education but honestly apart from Thematic Units I don't remember much about my classes. We may have covered Classical Education I can't recall a thing.
So to see education with fresh mother eyes and hear about Classical Education it was - well- it was eye opening.
Our Founding Fathers were classically educated. They produced documents that have lasted centuries. The people supported them, fought for them, fought with them and understood what these documents meant for them and their posterity. Over the years, men and women have willing laid down their life to protect the law of the land.
Over the years, our education system has failed our Founding Fathers by producing students who don't understand our form of government, why it is unique and why we as a Nation are an important force for good in the world. All you have to do is watch old youtube clips of Jay Leno's Jaywalking segaments to see how ignorant our citizens are. It is scary.
So I was sitting in the practicum a little spellbound and had this revelation.
200 years ago kids were educated in one room school houses and understood their form of government. And this was my revelation, classical education is needed to continue self - government. How can a nation of people who don't understand our Nation's documents be expected to recognize or even care when those documents are being trampled on?
They can't think for themselves. They do what they are told. They believe what they are told. They don't question or research if it is true. They believe what the tweet, post or anchorman says.
In contrast, the classically educated person is trained to ask questions and research. They have learned history so they can see it repeating. I don't think the average public school is doing this. This is why our nation is in such peril, no one is thinking.
Today, things are so dumbed down as it was designed. A nation of non-thinkers are easier to control.
We need a nation of thinkers to perpetuate our self-government.
So to see education with fresh mother eyes and hear about Classical Education it was - well- it was eye opening.
Our Founding Fathers were classically educated. They produced documents that have lasted centuries. The people supported them, fought for them, fought with them and understood what these documents meant for them and their posterity. Over the years, men and women have willing laid down their life to protect the law of the land.
Over the years, our education system has failed our Founding Fathers by producing students who don't understand our form of government, why it is unique and why we as a Nation are an important force for good in the world. All you have to do is watch old youtube clips of Jay Leno's Jaywalking segaments to see how ignorant our citizens are. It is scary.
So I was sitting in the practicum a little spellbound and had this revelation.
200 years ago kids were educated in one room school houses and understood their form of government. And this was my revelation, classical education is needed to continue self - government. How can a nation of people who don't understand our Nation's documents be expected to recognize or even care when those documents are being trampled on?
They can't think for themselves. They do what they are told. They believe what they are told. They don't question or research if it is true. They believe what the tweet, post or anchorman says.
In contrast, the classically educated person is trained to ask questions and research. They have learned history so they can see it repeating. I don't think the average public school is doing this. This is why our nation is in such peril, no one is thinking.
Today, things are so dumbed down as it was designed. A nation of non-thinkers are easier to control.
We need a nation of thinkers to perpetuate our self-government.
Saturday, June 04, 2016
The Wish
I read this book one day this summer called "Wish". Its about an elephant couple wishing for a little elephant. It was a story about their life together and their wait. This made me think of a dear friend who is still waiting for her own "elephant" to join her and her husband. It also made me think too about my own wishes...
This book converged with 2 other events, a week spent in the nursery during VBS, as well as my soon to be 3 year old in the midst of hardcore potty training.
While I should have had my fill of babies the idea of not having another is still too permanent to accept. There is still the wonder of who another might be or favor or tend toward.
The "advanced maternal age" risks, the expense, the lack of room and my current full hands - it just makes sense to be done. But the heart misses, what the heart misses whether its just lingering thoughts about the little lost one's void or the potential of another, closing the chapter on babies is still too hard to do.
I remember so well an episode of Little House and the Prairie where Caroline (Ma) thinks she is pregnant again only to figure out she is just starting menopause. She is devastated and feeling like half a woman.
The feeling of that permanency is heart breaking. The window of time is shrinking -fast- and I wish I felt more comfortable with that or felt fearless to go through that window -one last time.
This book converged with 2 other events, a week spent in the nursery during VBS, as well as my soon to be 3 year old in the midst of hardcore potty training.
While I should have had my fill of babies the idea of not having another is still too permanent to accept. There is still the wonder of who another might be or favor or tend toward.
The "advanced maternal age" risks, the expense, the lack of room and my current full hands - it just makes sense to be done. But the heart misses, what the heart misses whether its just lingering thoughts about the little lost one's void or the potential of another, closing the chapter on babies is still too hard to do.
I remember so well an episode of Little House and the Prairie where Caroline (Ma) thinks she is pregnant again only to figure out she is just starting menopause. She is devastated and feeling like half a woman.
The feeling of that permanency is heart breaking. The window of time is shrinking -fast- and I wish I felt more comfortable with that or felt fearless to go through that window -one last time.
Thursday, June 02, 2016
The Junior Arborist
So my little boy did a really cool thing at the Winterthur Touch-a-Truck day this October. He said yes to the Junior Arborist "ride". The arborists were dressing the kids in harnesses, hooking them up to a rope and hoisting them up the tree just like the arborists do when they needed to trim a tree.
So many time he frustrates me over the silly things he cries over (like today whilst typing this) or the simple things he doesn't want to try. But, I didn't see him bat an eye when we asked if he wanted to try this.
I thought he would be back out when it was time to step into the harness. He didn't. He stepped into the harness, got hooked to the rope and up he went. He loved it.
There was this little piece of me that thinks this is the first in a line of many experiences that he will do on his own. Things I have never done before, and there is a bitter sweetness in that, because he will have this rich exciting experience all on his own. I got to watch but I didn't go up the rope with him. I don't know what it felt like.
I do know it felt incredible to watch my timid boy do something daring and out of his element. I want him to be brave and take on a good challenge and feel the joy of accomplishment.
So many time he frustrates me over the silly things he cries over (like today whilst typing this) or the simple things he doesn't want to try. But, I didn't see him bat an eye when we asked if he wanted to try this.
I thought he would be back out when it was time to step into the harness. He didn't. He stepped into the harness, got hooked to the rope and up he went. He loved it.There was this little piece of me that thinks this is the first in a line of many experiences that he will do on his own. Things I have never done before, and there is a bitter sweetness in that, because he will have this rich exciting experience all on his own. I got to watch but I didn't go up the rope with him. I don't know what it felt like.
I do know it felt incredible to watch my timid boy do something daring and out of his element. I want him to be brave and take on a good challenge and feel the joy of accomplishment.
Wednesday, June 01, 2016
The Knitter
I looked out at the little 3, 4 and 5 year old faces before me. There were at least 10 children. We were discussing and reading from Psalm 139 : 13-14
For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful, I know that full well.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful, I know that full well.
I told them that I can remember almost everyone of them being knit in their momma's belly. I remembered excited announcements, swollen mommas, tiny faces, ornery toddlers. What a blessing to be able to say I witnessed, this room of fearfully and wonderfully made kids being knit together to become the funny kids they are today shy, boisterous, still a little clingy, smart and wonderful kids.
Which makes the idea of moving away from them all the harder.
There are precious children out there where we will move to. But I don't know them yet. We have no history. I have no history or sweet memories with their mothers. Nor do they have any woven connection to me and my babies.
Just loose strands out there and I am just not sure I know what do with that yet.
To trust the Master Knitter, why is that so hard?
(written in the fall of 2015)
(written in the fall of 2015)
Lingering Drafts
Lingering drafts. I won't let you linger anymore. As I writer, I like to have some chronology to what I write. If I write something in October but publish it in June it irks me because it is out of place. Its not in order. It may lack a backstory. However, I also feel like I have cheated myself by not being a good writer or blogger. So in a feeble attempt to give some back story. This is what has happened in the past year.
We homeschooled with Classical Conservations.
We bought a house.
We moved.
We had to leave our church.
We have transitioned into a new community and are still searching for new connections.
Some of these were challenging. Sometimes so challenging that I was too much in the thick of it to even process it in a blog.
So I am just setting a schedule for each draft. And now because of a shift in my daily schedule and because I think writing is necessary for my soul to be whole, I hope I will be faithful to my words and this blog.
Because Hope, Glory and Wonder still abound and I need to be reminded of it too.
Monday, May 09, 2016
Why I Love Being Your Mother - 2016
I can hardly believe I haven't posted anything since August! I have a half dozen drafts sitting there waiting to be edited and posted...
But this tradition is too important to put off. So unlike last year when you napped while I did this, the 2 of your are buzzing around me eating Rice Krispie Treats "one more nibble" at a time, flipping back and forth between Legos and chalk on the porch and coming to me with questions and statements of various subject matter.
There have been so many moments and looks and funny things said this year that make being your momma the sweetest thing. Spinning the words together to capture each of you well enough is tough though.
Dear Walter,
This was a big year for you. You started Kindergarten and Classical Conversations (CC). You moved into a new house and your own longed for blue room. Like most kids you would rather play than do school but we are working on getting a groove so we can get done what needs to be done and have plenty of time for playing. You have become a Lego Master -in our eyes. The things you create are amazing because you are not just slapping together some Lego bricks but that the parts you put together have a purpose. Granted there are Legoes ALL OVER THE HOUSE, it is a small price to pay to see the deep joy it gives you to create.
You can read now. It is amazing to me. I love to see the little light bulb go on when you get something or when you figure out the answer to something. I love when your face lights up with knowledge. You don't like writing, but you have learned more about the geography of the world than the average Kindergartener so I am impressed with you!
The knowledge you soak up and pass on only continues to amaze and also educate me!
The greatest and best thing to happen to you this year more than a blue room... On February 18, you came to me out of the blue and said you wanted to have Jesus in your heart. So we prayed and you became a new creation. For this momma, that was one of the greatest days of my life -to know your name is now written in the Lamb's Book of Life. Though you are young to make this choice I can only trust that the Holy Spirit prompted you.
I continue to sometimes get lost in those blue eyes. You are pure boy, full of excitement so much so that sometimes you are telling me stuff about Legos or Star Wars or Star Wars Legos and my head is spinning with the details spilling out. You are excited and there is nothing better than seeing you excited.
You are a natural teacher to your sister and most of the time I know that you look out for her. In this year of transition, where we have moved away from MOPS, Bible study and our friends at church I have been comforted in that fact they you have each other. Sometimes you do each need to have your own space your but your care and friendship for your "Rosa" has seen us all through some cold lonesome winter days - days full of Legos, princesses, books, crafts, Daniel Tiger, SciShow Kids and Doc McStuffins and spoons full of peanut butter and Nutella.
These are just a few of the reasons I love being your momma.
Dear Rosie,
Well you have your pink room at last. Though now you want it to be purple. You say purple in such a way that I can not mimic it -at all- but I love the way you say it. You aren't a baby anymore. You are an opinionated little girl. You love tutus and dancing. I love to listen to you - when you don't think I am listening! You have little dialogues with whatever you are playing with - princess dolls, Calico Critters, Lego minifigures or stuffed animals. Sometimes you incorporate storylines from shows you have seen and sometimes you make up songs for them to sing. You have an imagination that is for sure and I love that! You also learn by singing. I swear that one day you will know the alphabet and it won't be from anything I taught but from a song on YouTube.
You love to "look at the babies" on my phone. I have a bittersweet chuckle to myself because neither of you are babies anymore! But it is a daily ritual when you get up in the morning to come look at photos on my phone. I frequently wake up and find that you are sleeping with me. I love the extra snuggle time.
Everyday. Everyday multiple times a day you tell me you love me. "Mommy, I love you" I will never grow tired of hearing that and repeating the same. I love you sweet vibrant, know what you want little girl. If you want to wear strips and polka dots together you will do it. Mostly you want to wear your Frozen dresses and tap shows. You are a little adventurer and you have a tender heart for animals including the recent mouse we captured. You don't think twice about picking up an earthworm. You want to be a "good helper for your family" and you are.
The other night when you were snuggling into bed, we locked eyes and really looked each other. Its easy for me to look at you and overflow with love and reveal in your beauty and sheer existence.
You looked at me in the same way though. In the day to day of life, the picking up of toys, making food for you picky eaters to feel you say, "You are my mom and I really love you. You are my world and I reveal in your beauty and existence." Well, it just made me feel incredibly blessed.
You make me feel loved my sweet girl. One of the many reasons why I love being your mom.
You are both the greatest treasures and the best challenges I could ever hope for.
I wish I could spin the words together to fully capture the many moments, looks and funny things said this year like "super cold water" and "too cold water" and so many others. My words will never do the job justice for you are both just so much bigger and more interesting than my words.
Love,
Mommy
But this tradition is too important to put off. So unlike last year when you napped while I did this, the 2 of your are buzzing around me eating Rice Krispie Treats "one more nibble" at a time, flipping back and forth between Legos and chalk on the porch and coming to me with questions and statements of various subject matter.
There have been so many moments and looks and funny things said this year that make being your momma the sweetest thing. Spinning the words together to capture each of you well enough is tough though.
Dear Walter,
This was a big year for you. You started Kindergarten and Classical Conversations (CC). You moved into a new house and your own longed for blue room. Like most kids you would rather play than do school but we are working on getting a groove so we can get done what needs to be done and have plenty of time for playing. You have become a Lego Master -in our eyes. The things you create are amazing because you are not just slapping together some Lego bricks but that the parts you put together have a purpose. Granted there are Legoes ALL OVER THE HOUSE, it is a small price to pay to see the deep joy it gives you to create.
You can read now. It is amazing to me. I love to see the little light bulb go on when you get something or when you figure out the answer to something. I love when your face lights up with knowledge. You don't like writing, but you have learned more about the geography of the world than the average Kindergartener so I am impressed with you!
The knowledge you soak up and pass on only continues to amaze and also educate me!
The greatest and best thing to happen to you this year more than a blue room... On February 18, you came to me out of the blue and said you wanted to have Jesus in your heart. So we prayed and you became a new creation. For this momma, that was one of the greatest days of my life -to know your name is now written in the Lamb's Book of Life. Though you are young to make this choice I can only trust that the Holy Spirit prompted you.
I continue to sometimes get lost in those blue eyes. You are pure boy, full of excitement so much so that sometimes you are telling me stuff about Legos or Star Wars or Star Wars Legos and my head is spinning with the details spilling out. You are excited and there is nothing better than seeing you excited.
You are a natural teacher to your sister and most of the time I know that you look out for her. In this year of transition, where we have moved away from MOPS, Bible study and our friends at church I have been comforted in that fact they you have each other. Sometimes you do each need to have your own space your but your care and friendship for your "Rosa" has seen us all through some cold lonesome winter days - days full of Legos, princesses, books, crafts, Daniel Tiger, SciShow Kids and Doc McStuffins and spoons full of peanut butter and Nutella.
These are just a few of the reasons I love being your momma.
Dear Rosie,
Well you have your pink room at last. Though now you want it to be purple. You say purple in such a way that I can not mimic it -at all- but I love the way you say it. You aren't a baby anymore. You are an opinionated little girl. You love tutus and dancing. I love to listen to you - when you don't think I am listening! You have little dialogues with whatever you are playing with - princess dolls, Calico Critters, Lego minifigures or stuffed animals. Sometimes you incorporate storylines from shows you have seen and sometimes you make up songs for them to sing. You have an imagination that is for sure and I love that! You also learn by singing. I swear that one day you will know the alphabet and it won't be from anything I taught but from a song on YouTube.
You love to "look at the babies" on my phone. I have a bittersweet chuckle to myself because neither of you are babies anymore! But it is a daily ritual when you get up in the morning to come look at photos on my phone. I frequently wake up and find that you are sleeping with me. I love the extra snuggle time.
Everyday. Everyday multiple times a day you tell me you love me. "Mommy, I love you" I will never grow tired of hearing that and repeating the same. I love you sweet vibrant, know what you want little girl. If you want to wear strips and polka dots together you will do it. Mostly you want to wear your Frozen dresses and tap shows. You are a little adventurer and you have a tender heart for animals including the recent mouse we captured. You don't think twice about picking up an earthworm. You want to be a "good helper for your family" and you are.
The other night when you were snuggling into bed, we locked eyes and really looked each other. Its easy for me to look at you and overflow with love and reveal in your beauty and sheer existence.
You looked at me in the same way though. In the day to day of life, the picking up of toys, making food for you picky eaters to feel you say, "You are my mom and I really love you. You are my world and I reveal in your beauty and existence." Well, it just made me feel incredibly blessed.
You make me feel loved my sweet girl. One of the many reasons why I love being your mom.
You are both the greatest treasures and the best challenges I could ever hope for.
I wish I could spin the words together to fully capture the many moments, looks and funny things said this year like "super cold water" and "too cold water" and so many others. My words will never do the job justice for you are both just so much bigger and more interesting than my words.
Love,
Mommy
Monday, August 03, 2015
Do Hard Things
I am sure it is a tagline somewhere - "Do Hard Things."
Hard things like what?
Take the Hessians on Christmas Morn?
Unite individual states "into a more perfect union"?
Sit for 3 days of class from 9am-4pm?
Spend less time on Facebook?
How about cuff and hem 3 pair of pants?
So I am reading The Core: Teaching your Children the Foundations of Classical Education in preparation for our new school year -Kindergarten and 3 year old pre-school. I am thinking and reading about modern education and how it has been watered down.
My Grandpop never forgot the poems he memorized in grammar school. He could still rattle off "This is the forest primeval..." even in his 90s. To me he is proof of what a fine grammar school education should look like. They memorized facts, poems etc and they carried the information with them through their life.
These young years, their brains are sponges for information. They soak it up, training their brains to remember information that will be used as they get older. The classical model of education has children memorizing information - some of it seems a little lofty but why not try?
Modern educational practices poo-poo memorization as archaic. They want to use invented spelling and calculators. I have never bought into that but understanding the Classical approach I understand why better.
I want to teach my kids to Do Hard Things. We have a generation of kids who go to schools that have removed rigor from the equation. The rely on calculators, they don't have to memorize time tables. Kids don't or can't do hard things. They want things to be flashy and fun and colorful. We have trained them for that, rather than training them to gain personal satisfaction from achieving something they had to work hard for. ( Realize I am speaking in broad generalizations. )
I am pretty sure my grandpop memorizing poetry for class wasn't flashy - but he worked rigorously and it stuck with him for the duration of his life.
I know there will be protests. I started formulating my responses and I was convicted that I can't ask them to Do Hard Things if I am not also willing to do hard things.
Things like hemming a cuff into 3 pairs of pants or seeking to spend my time better.
So that is my plan, we will strive to do hard things and shrink from rigorous learning.
Hard things like what?
Take the Hessians on Christmas Morn?
Unite individual states "into a more perfect union"?
Sit for 3 days of class from 9am-4pm?
Spend less time on Facebook?
How about cuff and hem 3 pair of pants?
So I am reading The Core: Teaching your Children the Foundations of Classical Education in preparation for our new school year -Kindergarten and 3 year old pre-school. I am thinking and reading about modern education and how it has been watered down.
My Grandpop never forgot the poems he memorized in grammar school. He could still rattle off "This is the forest primeval..." even in his 90s. To me he is proof of what a fine grammar school education should look like. They memorized facts, poems etc and they carried the information with them through their life.
These young years, their brains are sponges for information. They soak it up, training their brains to remember information that will be used as they get older. The classical model of education has children memorizing information - some of it seems a little lofty but why not try?
Modern educational practices poo-poo memorization as archaic. They want to use invented spelling and calculators. I have never bought into that but understanding the Classical approach I understand why better.
I want to teach my kids to Do Hard Things. We have a generation of kids who go to schools that have removed rigor from the equation. The rely on calculators, they don't have to memorize time tables. Kids don't or can't do hard things. They want things to be flashy and fun and colorful. We have trained them for that, rather than training them to gain personal satisfaction from achieving something they had to work hard for. ( Realize I am speaking in broad generalizations. )
I am pretty sure my grandpop memorizing poetry for class wasn't flashy - but he worked rigorously and it stuck with him for the duration of his life.
I know there will be protests. I started formulating my responses and I was convicted that I can't ask them to Do Hard Things if I am not also willing to do hard things.
Things like hemming a cuff into 3 pairs of pants or seeking to spend my time better.
So that is my plan, we will strive to do hard things and shrink from rigorous learning.
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