Goodnight Moon

It's one of my favorites. That little book. I used to have it memorized, now it's only parts I remember.

Bedtime has always been my favorite time of day.

It's still a favorite. But I think my reasons have changed.

Before it was because I was tired. I mean, really exhausted. Mommy was done. I had been going since my feet hit the floor. Giving, giving, giving. There were battles over bowls and cups and the right color. Toy wars had ensued. Sometimes I came out the victor. Sometimes. Discipline had been accomplished. Spankings, timeouts, no t.v., no snack, come inside NOW!

We may have gone to the grocery store, if we absolutely had to. That meant one car seat captive in the back of the buggy, a walking 20 month old beside me and the older 3 year old in the front seat of the buggy. Believe me, this was how it had to be, as funny as it may have looked.

I endured the stares and comments... My you have your hands full! ...You must be military, he's home just long enough to get you pregnant! (really, do people have no couth these days!?) ...God bless your SOUL!  I repeated my rehearsed replies, Why yes I do and I'm so thankful! ... No, I'm not military, but am so thankful for their service to our country, military wives included ... God HAS blessed me, yes. That shut them up, most of the time.

After several melt downs along the way, the kids included, we would arrive home. It was usually nap time by this point. I would quickly deposit the kids in their nap locations, some on my bed with books, others in cribs. Then I would tackle the bags and bags of groceries, which would hopefully last more than a week. This is why I didn't need to go to the gym.

I would try and take advantage of the quiet to get dinner started, but usually got distracted at some point while putting things away. I'd end up cleaning behind the dryer or something and would later wonder why my back hurt.

By the time dinner was well under way there was usually someone on my hip and another one clinging to my leg. I had the other watching Cinderella for sanity purposes.

Daddy would come home. We'd try and have a conversation while inhaling our food over the high volume level of little ones and in between the 20 times I had to get up and go back to the kitchen for something. I'm sure someone had spilled something or picked that time to want to try and go potty and don't forget about the nursing baby who's internal radar senses the precise moment you sit down to eat.

Bath time was essential after dinner. Mashed potatoes were now in ears and caked over eyebrows and they smelled like whatever chicken dish I had haphazardly thrown together. I couldn't risk a tiger picking up their scent in the middle of the night. We would all be wet by the time it was over. But they were clean and smelling so good and I would just breathe them in.

Some nights we would rock and sing and read books before bed. Most nights we would. I would pray over their fuzzy heads as I laid them down in their beds, 1, 2, and 3.  I would sigh a huge sigh of relief as I tiptoed out of their rooms, crossing my fingers in hopes of not having to return sometime in the middle of the night.

Walking down the stairs I felt satisfied. Another day done. I had survived it. A smile would creep over my potato crusted face. I would get to that later. For now, it was the kitchen that must be tackled and then the slippery bathroom and the 10,000 toys that seemed to multiply by themselves which were scattered across the floor, just beckoning you to come and step on one. It may be quiet, but the work was not done.

Many hours later I myself would crawl in bed. I may have tried to read, but wouldn't get very far. The book would have fallen across my chest. I would turn off the light after waking around 2am. I'd make sure the monitor was on. I may have traveled up the stairs just to make sure that tiger hadn't found them and would again revel in their stillness.

During the rest of the night my mind and body would be renewed by precious sleep. Unlikely uninterrupted, but precious all the same.

I would wake again the next morning to more diapers and tantrums and laundry and spit up and... well you probably get the picture.

I'm not proud to admit the survival-mode mentality I lived with in those first few years of mothering. But I was a different person back then. A different mother. I was in a very different season of life and I'd like to think that I've seasoned over time and matured just a bit. Just like with every other thing, I've grown better at mothering the more experience I've had.

Many have commented on how differently I'm doing things with number four. Again, it's a different season, I'm a different mommy.

Tucking them in at night is different too. I'm still tired at the end of the day. They are still loud and still fight and we still battle through the grocery store. But my perspective has been tweaked just a bit. I'm not always in such a hurry to end another day.

If you combine all of my kid's years, then we have celebrated 22 birthdays so far. That's a lot. And I can't believe Judah's first is next month! The more years that flash by, I think the more a Mama realizes just how fast it really goes.

You also realize that no matter what mess or catastrophe may happen in a day, you will survive it. Even if you've been up all night with a sick one, you know you will sleep again. You know the crying will stop and the food throwing and the booger wiping (well, maybe) and the constant bickering and running through the house with muddy shoes... one day we will all have clean houses and we will hate it.

There will be an end to this crazy season of 'mothering'. We will never stop being mothers, but will stop the mothering part. And we will stop tucking them in at night too. They will grow too old for Good Night Moon and I Love You This Much and all my other favorites. Some of mine already have.

That's what I think of when I tuck them in sometimes. So I don't mind laying just a bit longer and snuggling a bit closer. And don't mind giving one more kiss or hug or listening to one more thing that happened in their day or meeting the challenge of tickle me too! They just love that. But I think I love it more.

So as we say good night to our young ones, let's remember that we will one day say good bye to these precious days. We will heave a sigh of relief I'm sure, but I think we'll miss it more. This shouldn't make us sad. Great things and great hope come with every season of life. But maybe it will help to give us a better perspective as we fight off the temptation to rush things and wish it away.

In the great green room there was a telephone
And a red balloon and a picture of--

The cow jumping over the moon

and there were three little bears, sitting on chairs
and two little kittens and a pair of mittens
and a little toy house and a young mouse
and a comb and a brush and bowl full of mush
and a quiet old lady who was whispering "hush"

Goodnight room goodnight moon
goodnight cow jumping over the moon
goodnight light and the red balloon

goodnight bears goodnight chairs
goodnight kittens goodnight mittens

goodnight clocks and goodnight socks
goodnight little house and goodnight mouse

 

goodnight comb and goodnight brush
goodnight nobody goodnight mush
and goodnight to the old lady whispering "hush"

goodnight stars, goodnight air

goodnight noises everywhere

He Built a House

It's taken me too long to write this post.

I started it almost a year ago and had to stop. I realized I couldn't just write about the house. I couldn't write about the house without writing about the man who built the house.

And I realized I couldn't write about the man who built the house without writing about why he built it.

This is a big story. A sad story. And it's really not mine to tell. I had to ask permission. But I will still only tell it from my perspective.

The man we are talking about is my Daddy.

The house began with a dream. And this is what I remember of the beginning of that dream. I was a young child so there is a chance that my childhood lens might be a little clouded or rose-tinted, but this is how I remember it.

I remember making the drive out to Seabrook. It seemed like such a long drive. We'd come out just to look around. It was fun.

There was this big white house with double porches. It looked like one of those really neat houses that you see in movies. I dreamed of living in that house. There were two other white houses across the street. They were smaller, but just as pretty. They looked like family.

There were railroad tracks.

And old buildings that once were special to this small town. Had it really been a town?

There was an old post office that people still used. What fun it would be to have your own post office box! And a key to match it and to have to ride your bike to get your mail. I dreamed of having a post office box.

There were other old buildings that I wanted so badly to explore. They looked so intriguing.

And there were pecan trees. So many pecan trees. What I eventually came to understand was that this used to be a pecan orchard and some of those 'other old buildings' were the packing sheds.

The neighborhood smelled of onion grass and it made me want to reach my hand down under the earth and pull a small bunch out and take a bite. It smelled so delicious.

There were two matching silos. Had those been used for the pecans too? I wondered.

There was a dock that you could fish off or swim off or go crabbing off of. But you had to live there to do those things...

And we didn't.

That was the dream.

Mom and Dad would drive out there and imagine all of those things too. I'm sure just as I did, including wanting their very own post office box.

It was always a little sad when we would drive back home. To the house we knew and the busy street we lived on. Not that we didn't love that house too, but it just wasn't part of the dream.

I remember going to Park Day with our homeschooling group. We met at a house that was in Seabrook too (ironically this would one day be my family's house, my one-day-husband's family). As we turned left to go home, we would all longingly look out the car window to the right and say, "Maybe one day we will be able to turn right to go home..."

It was strange when that day came. I was 13 when we moved out here to this quiet little neighborhood. The roads were still dirt. The houses far apart. There were woods everywhere. Oh how we loved all those things.

Playing manhunt with friends became a favorite. Climbing trees and picking pecans off the ground to eat was another. Staying outside til after dark and taking long walks down to the dock that we could finally call our own, well it was a dream come true for my family.

We eventually moved into another house just down the road from the first one. I loved that house. I used to babysit for a family that lived in that house and now we did. It was strange at first. But it would eventually become our own.

I left that house to go to college. I remember the night before sitting on our porch swing. A favorite place. I cried. I had just said good-bye to my then boyfriend, who would become my husband. I didn't want to say goodbye to anyone else. Not to my parents or brother or sister. Or to my house where I felt so safe and at home.

I came back often to visit. I just couldn't stay away for long. I was sooo homesick.

I got married in that house. Well, in a church, but you know.

After that my parents decided to build a house in the neighborhood.

That decision didn't come easy.

I wasn't living at home anymore. I had my own house somewhere else. But that place was still so special to me. The thought that they wouldn't live there forever was a strange one for me. That I wouldn't be able to come sit on the porch swing made me sad. But things were happening out of their control and they knew they had to do something.

They put that sweet little white house up for sale.

I knew it was just a house. But it had been my house. I grow attached to things easily, so it was hard to let go the day they closed on it. It was so hard for many other reasons too.

My parent's world was starting to crumble. At first it was just small pieces. But then the pieces started to get bigger and bigger. We would later learn how big.

I remember watching my Daddy build this house. It seemed to take a really long time. So much was happening in his life and I remember thinking, building this house is what's saving him.

And I still believe that it did.

We don't really talk about that time much. It's almost like we aren't allowed. My parents have never said that. But it still feels that way. There were so many people involved. People we still know. People we were so close to.

That's just it. We were so close to so many and then we weren't.

How do you recover from that? I mean fully? How do you talk about it? How do you share honestly without causing further pain to others?

I don't want to do that. Not anymore at least. Maybe that's why I've waited so long to write about it. I'm not bitter anymore.. I've extended grace and forgiveness even when it wasn't reciprocated. I've moved passed the consuming anger, even if I still get angry.

Even though I would never want to cause further pain to those involved, I think it's important to acknowledge the hurt. I think it's ok to say, wait a minute, I've been left wounded.

Watching my parents go through that was excruciating. And still is at times. Knowing there was nothing I could do to take away their pain. Nothing I could do to help them regain their life as they new it before. And learning how much had truly been lost... the relationships, their identity and occupation, the good standing in their community and church, their reputation.  If it had just been money. If it had just been a house. If it had just been a job. If it had just been a friend or two.

But oh, it was so much more.

It was devastating and baffling and confusing. Almost like being side-swiped by a car. It just came out of nowhere and left our heads and lives spinning. The damage left us totaled, but mostly mom and dad.


But the hardest thing was to remember there used to be light in his eyes and there isn't anymore.

I know things are going to happen. I know that no church is immune to problems. I know that people are imperfect, that they make mistakes. It is foolish to expect anything else.

It's one thing to make mistakes. It's another to pass over someone lying in a proverbial ditch with a gaping heart-wound. That's just not ok. That's what it felt like.

But I guess in a way it is ok. Because nothing happens out of God's control. Nothing goes unnoticed by Him. Nothing happens in a person's life unless He deems it right and good and for our ultimate holiness and His ultimate glory. That's why we can forgive and move on and look to the future with hope.

If nothing else, (and there is so much more) I've learned that people are fragile. More fragile than we think. Sometimes we can't recover and wont until we reach heaven. Sometimes people smile when they really wish they would just die already. Sometimes their hurt runs so deep that several generations are effected by it.

People can't be looked at through a lens of black and white. We are so much more complex than that. And so our problems. I wish it wasn't so. I wish you could use a Bible verse like a bandaid. Or what worked for you. I wish we could expect people to give the right answer when they are hurting. But that's impossible when they still haven't found it yet.

You can't expect people to stand up and walk without a limp when they have been so badly crippled.

I've also learned that it's ok to talk about it as hard as it is. To share the pain. Not to inflict more pain, but in hopes of find healing for yourself and for others.

In giving us our stories, God never meant for us to keep silent about them. He meant for us to share them with speech seasoned with grace, as it were with salt. Sometimes salt burns. But sometimes that's needed for healing to take place.

So when I walk into this house that I now call home, it's sometimes weird to think that this is where my parents used to live and now I live here. I never lived here with them.

But I love that I live here now and that they live just behind us. At first I thought it would be hard to be so close. But after a year, it has only been good. So good.

So good to see my Daddy's house being used. Being filled with lots of grandchildren and noise and messes. That the table he built twenty plus years ago is still being dined upon by many who love him. Who know the man he is and used to be. And who only wish for his happiness and healing.

But even though it makes me so happy to be living here. I sometimes get sad too.

I get sad when I look at the concrete floor in the living room. I remember seeing it right after it was poured. I remember seeing my dad looking so beaten down. So discouraged and confused and hurt.

I remember the long hours he would be here. To escape. To survive.

I remember worrying so much. That he would fall or get hurt when he was by himself. That no one would know to come help him.  And no one really did know to come and help.

I remember watching Mom up so high on the scaffolding white washing the walls that turned out so beautiful.

I remember the question in her eyes. What's happened? Why?

I remember the isolation we all felt. And still feel at times. Knowing that people were innocently wondering and talking and not knowing how to treat us.

There is so much good represented in this house. There is so much pain too. Because it represents a time in the life of my family that is hard to remember. Hard to look back upon and see the good.

But we are choosing to see the good. And we are thankful for the blessings God has bestowed on our family. Not everything was lost. And so much was truly gained. Understanding God's grace over my life has been one of my greatest joys. I don't know if I would have otherwise.

I hope a year after living here wasn't too soon to share this story. I hope you understand my heart in this. I hope you see my family differently. I hope you see our fragility. But more importantly, I hope you see the strength of my Heavenly Father. And that His grace is all sufficient in our lives, no matter what course it may take. That you can be left standing!

Thanks, Daddy for the privilege of living under a roof that you built. It brings me so much pride to brag on you and your beautiful workmanship. You are one of the most gifted and talented men I know. I love that we are neighbors and that we share a yard. I love that your grandchildren run on floors that you laid. And that I cook in a kitchen you made. I love that you aren't perfect, that you make mistakes and that I can love you anyway. And I love that you love me the same. You and mom have come so far. God has given you a story. A story that is meant to be shared, so that His glory isn't wasted.
I love you, Daddy.

Why We Decided to Homeschool... And Then Changed Our Minds

I have been very slow at posting posts lately. I have had several in the works and for whatever reason, well I could probably name four,  have not been able to finish and publish!

This has been a very difficult one for me to actually write. I've literally started it more times than I know.

I think it's because homeschooling has been such a part of my life since I was in 5th grade. It has played a huge role in shaping the person, wife and mother I have become (good and bad!) .

I love so much about it. I hate so much about it! It can definitely be a topic of one of the most emotionally charged conversations you will have. I know from experience. I think that is because so many have such strong convictions about it. Which is important and can be a good thing. It can also build walls and burn bridges. Both of which I have been a victim of and participator in.

Yeah, I'm so sorry.

Well, to catch those of you up who are not on facebook... We enrolled our sweet Livie Rose in a private Classical Christian school after Christmas.

Surprise!!

I have been asked a lot of questions since then. And I want to take the time to explain where we are coming from and what brought us to this point.


Many of you already know this, but Dustin and I were both homeschooled as children. And when it came time for us to decide what we were going to do for our own children's education it was a lot harder than I thought it would be.

I had always assumed we would homeschool. I was a staunch believer in it. Quite legalistic even. I had pretty much made a blanket decision for all of humanity that homeschooling was the best and only option if you were to produce obedient, God fearing children.

In college I even wrote a few research papers on the topic. Home Schooling Vs. Public Schooling was the title of one. I think I've burned it since... at least I should if I haven't already done so.

But isn't that how it usually is? Most pre-parents have a lot of preconceived notions of how raising children will be. They have it all figured out, until the doctor places that sweet baby in their arms. Can't you envision their panick stricken faces?? Or are you just remembering your own?

See, I began to see homeschooling as a Biblical mandate. When we apply Biblical principles as
though it were a Biblical mandate, that's when things start to get fishy.*

We LIKE rules. Yeah, we really do. It's our nature... the nature that God gave us. He has written His moral code on each of our hearts. We were given the Ten Commandments. The Law. And whether we follow that law or not, we like to make sure others do!

You don't have to dig very deep to see this. Just sit in a room of 2 and 3 year olds for a few minutes and you'll see what I'm talking about. We do not have to be taught this. Again, it's in our nature.

Unfortunately, there is also sin in our nature. So any bit of 'good' qualities we may have are often and quickly warped by sin. And this area is no exception.

We hear a really good Biblical principle and find a really good application of that principle and we automatically assume that EVERYONE should ALWAYS follow suit. (I remember learning in a counseling class I took in college that 'extreme statements' are NEVER good. EVER!)

I am so guilty of this and not just on this issue.

When Olivia was a young toddler I remember talking to a friend who had children in elementary school. They were having a hard time and she said, "Education is the hardest thing about parenting. It's just so hard."

I thought she was overreacting. I mean, really. Education is easy. You just homeschool them! I so unfairly judged her because she had her kids in a brick and mortar school. Sure, you will have hard days and it wont always be easy, but bring your kids home and all of your problems will be solved! Thankfully I didn't say that to her, but that's what I was thinking!

The closer the time came to make that decision for us, the more doubts I had. A lot of change had taken place in my mind and heart regarding this issue. And I wasn't so sure it was always the best option for every family.

I began to understand that I had become super legalistic about a lot of things. I wasn't really looking at people (or myself) as individuals with individual needs. It had become more about fitting into a certain mold so that I would be accepted by my peers, the leaders of the church, even God. I realized I had become more concerned with what others thought about what I was doing than what God might think. Our decision was being motivated by fear. Fear of man.

There was another kind of fear that was a huge motivator. And I think this is pretty common among many (and sometimes justified). Fear that if I didn't homeschool, than I would 'lose' my kids. That they would 'fall away from God'. And ultimately, that I would fail as a parent.

Yes, by putting your children in an anti-God environment 8 hours of their day, you take the risk of that happening. No question. Especially if you are not combating that at home with intentional, Biblical teaching.

But I began to take a closer look at the many homeschool families that I had grown up with. What I found was a little confusing to me. I found that if all of those children were put into a basket and you reached your hand in and grabbed a handful, half would come out following God and the other half sadly lost. They didn't seem to know who they were or where they were going, much less who God was or what He meant to them.

How could this be?

So it wasn't the 'fix all' answer to our problems after all. It didn't come with a guarantee that our kids would 'turn out alright' or that I would even get the 'perfect parent' award.

So maybe it wasn't the best option for every family.

We hesitated.

Things had been so clear before and now we were left with a whole lot of questions that we couldn't find answers to. It's hard trusting God when you can't see the outcome.

To make an already long story a bit shorter...

We ended up enrolling Olivia in preschool at The Parish Church of St. Helena when she was three with much hesitation and trepidation. I was nervous at first. But it turned out to be a wonderful experience for all of us. Especially for my sweet, very rambunctious, very strong-willed three year old, who really did need more than I could give her at the time. I also had a 2 year old and a 6 month old at home and life was really busy for me. Hard even. Very hard.

She ended up staying at that little school for 3 years, including her Kindergarten year. We loved it. I assisted in a preschool class one of those years and had my boys in the preschool program as well. We were all there together. I got to see them on the playground and in their classes. It was so fun.

The following year they were not offering first grade. I wasn't sure what we were going to do. I wasn't 'afraid' of school anymore, the brick and mortar kind that is... Or was I?

I was so comfortable with the situation we had. We were all there together. I loved the environment. Olivia was thriving. Could I put her in a public school?

We explored many options and prayed A LOT! By the end of her Kindergarten school year I was almost beside myself. We were still undecided and I had no idea what to do.

Finally God offered clarity through my husband. Oh how thankful I was for him. He sat me down and said, "This is crazy! You are going crazy! And it's making me crazy!!" He went on to say that he felt God was leading us to homeschool.

At that point I didn't care what he told me to do. I was just glad to finally have an answer and be able to move forward.

That first year was quite challenging. Even though I had been homeschooled I had never actually home-schooled! It was tough, especially since I'm not the nurturing, teacher type. I don't do lesson plans. I find no joy in coming up with fun crafts. Explaining how to add numbers made me feel a little loony at times. And being in a small space with three little ones all day took some major adjusting (attitude adjusting that is)!

It was tough. But I soon found myself learning to love it, if not parts of it. I didn't feel like it was something we had to do to earn God's approval or man's approval. I wasn't doing it out of fear (well, maybe a little). Mostly we were homeschooling because that was what God had lead us to do that year for that child. It was such a relief.

The next year came around and it was still hard. But I felt more confident and everything was just a bit easier than the year before. I added a kindergartner. We were finding our groove and I was enjoying the routine.

Maybe we'll become a homeschool for life family after all!

We were approaching our third year of homeschooling. I was expecting our fourth child. For some reason I just wasn't that nervous about it. It was the first year that I attended our local homeschool conference and didn't burst into tears upon entering the building!

I had a plan. I knew more of what to expect. I knew which curriculum we were going to use. I had adjusted to being with my children all day every day and had come to love it. And I was excited!

The start of our third year was the best by far. It was fun even! Even with a newborn and schooling an additional one (a total of 3) I didn't feel too overwhelmed.

And then...

Wham!!

It stopped working.

It had never been easy. We had our usual ups and downs and ruts as most homeschoolers can relate to. So I think my expectations were realistic as far as that goes.

But it became very apparent that we had hit a wall. I don't know how else to describe it. Other than to add it was extremely intense.

I woke up dreading the day. We couldn't even make it through a devotional. It was emotionally and mentally draining. And I didn't know how to move passed it.

That was the thing. We couldn't move on. I had to stop and that meant getting more and more behind academically. And we were getting absolutely no where relationally either. This was the part that disturbed me the most. 

To sacrifice your child's education for the sake of bettering a relationship makes sense to me.
But sacrificing you and your child's relationship for the sake of homeschooling is stupid and prideful.

That's what we were doing.

I know this sounds a little backwards. If I hadn't experienced it for myself I don't think I would have believed it. Homeschooling is supposed to have the opposite affect. If you have a strained relationship with your child and you are able to focus more on them and their heart through the flexibility of homeschooling, then your relationship should be mended! It worked for me as a young elementary-age child and I had seen it work in the heart of Olivia as a first grader.

So I was genuinely caught off guard when the opposite began to take place. The harder I tried, the further I pushed her away. Is it a heart issue vs. a behavior issue? No doubt. Was I aware of that? Yep. Was I taking intentional steps to address that and not just the behavior? You betcha. Did I have the capability to change her heart? Absolutely not. Never will I ever have the ability to change the heart of my child.

I can do my best to foster an atmosphere of repentance through prayer and teaching and heart focus. But it is ultimately up to God if actual heart change is to occur.

The approach we were taking just wasn't working and her overall spirit was taking a rapid decline. We had to make a change.

A change was needed for other reasons as well.

I have never believed that education is everything. Especially class room education. I truly believe you can produce healthy minded, well rounded, intelligent children in a home education environment. I have seen many encouraging examples of this.

I have also never taken the stance that "It's just third grade" as I've heard many say. I believe it's important. No matter what grade. Each year you are adding to the foundation of education that will take them throughout their entire educational career! If that is not a strong foundation it wont continue to get stronger on it's own. It will get shakier and shakier and will make things much harder for them in the end.

So although education isn't everything, it is VERY important and shouldn't be taken lightly.

During this time of my life a lot was being demanded of me. And maybe the emotional strain was making things ten times harder than it should have been, but I just wasn't doing my job as home-educator well - enough.

Things were falling through the cracks. There were many days that I just couldn't get to everything... or to one of my kids at all. I had a HUGE cloud of guilt hanging over me. I don't need my children to be academic geniuses. But I do want them to have a fair chance and to receive a good education.

I wasn't providing that for them.

I also wasn't providing an atmosphere of learning for Olivia that was suited to her needs. Instead I was squelching them. She is a very bright child. Very artsy if you will. Creative and fun and simply put, beautiful. Gosh, I love this kid. But I am sooo different from her! I admire her abilities and wish I could be more like her and enter her world better than I do. But the fact is, God created me to be who I am... with limitations. I was not cultivating the atmoshpere of learning that she needed to thrive in. In fact, as I mentioned before, the opposite was taking place. None of us (including her brothers) were able to thrive educationally, emotionally or spiritually.

So something had to change.

Some might be thinking, "Well the change needed to happen in you (me) not your educational choice."

Ok, so now's my chance to address the home-schooling Mom, thanks for bringing that up!

I think there is a tremendous burden placed on us home-schooling Moms. By others and by our own selves.

It is ingrained in our thinking that we can be and must be everything to our kids. And when we find ourselves failing in some sense we start viewing ourselves as just that, failures, instead of simply overburdened human beings who, wait for it...  have limitations!

 It's an unfair burden we place on ourselves and others. And it's also unbiblical.

Only Christ can be everything to our children. And that is not conditional on your educational choices. Christ is so much bigger than that.

I'm so glad that I don't have to be omni-present in my children's life to ensure that they will turn out alright. I'm so glad that I can trust a much bigger (than myself) God who cares infinitely more for my children than I will ever have the capability of. And I'm so glad that I don't have to fit a certain mold in order to have God's blessings over my life. In our absolute worst state, God chose that moment to bless us with the most incredible mind-blowing blessing - forgiveness and freedom.

I will finish with this.

It was very scary for us to make this step. It kinda happened fast and unexpectedly, although a lot of prayer went into it. I never would have predicted enrolling one of my children in a school mid-year. This was not the plan. But really I guess you could say it was the plan... I just wasn't aware of it. God had planned this all along.

And I can say that with honesty and assurance and excitement.

I am watching my girl thrive in ways that I've never seen before. She is meeting the challenge. She is loving making new friends. She LOVES her teacher (yes, I've had to deal with some jealous feelings when I've read the "I love you" notes she's written to her). And she is blossoming as we prayed she would. There have been tears. It has been a huge adjustment for all of us. But overall it has been one of the best things that has happened to our family. I have even seen a huge improvement in my boys, who I'm still homeschooling. The tension is gone and they are thriving.  I have more time for them and the difference is undeniable.

I am so thankful for this confirmation.

I know this is really long, but there is probably a lot more I could say on the subject. But I don't want to kick a dead horse.

Just remember, no matter what educational decision you make it will never come with a guarantee that your kids will turn out perfect.  As long as you do your best and what works for each child and stay accountable to God instead of man, well, that's all you can do. And that's simply what we are trying to do.

We are taking one year, one child at a time and trying to be flexible to the changes that are needed. And we are finding freedom in that.

I see now that my friend of long ago really wasn't overreacting at all. Education IS one of the hardest things about parenting. You have to do it! There is just no way around it. But it doesn't have to cripple you either. God really is bigger than you think He is.





*Thanks Russ for helping me put words to my chaotic thoughts. Not that you would ever read my blog, but thought I'd say thanks anyway!

12.12.12

I just have to post something today. Since we'll never see another date like this one in our life time!

(Kelli, it would be a good day to have a baby! Just sayin')

We are a bunch of sickies around here and trying to get better. So not much to report. But how about some pictures from the last couple of months...

 

Judah took his first plane ride! Olivia, Judah and I went to see a friend get married the weekend before Thanksgiving. It was exhausting, but he did great and it was so good to share in the fun of that day!

 

 

Olivia and I had the wedding. The older she gets, the more she looks like me!

 

 

What can I say, he has his daddy's ears.

 

 

We've had some cold days scattered amongst the warm. Judah is wearing his very warm, hand-love knitted sweater from a sweet friend, Lara! Thanks friend!

 

 

While at the play ground, Deke lost his second front tooth (literally)... we never found it!

 

 

 We have been working hard at finding some food that Judah will actually eat. He pretty much hates everything. But after a month I think I've finally figured it out. Rice, peas, and chicken broth. Strangest baby so far!

 

 

Olivia wanted to be a Piratess for the Fall Festival.

... and this is why she's not allowed to wear makeup - ever!

 

 

While in Iowa, we had several very rough nights (waking up 5-7 times!) This is how we ended up by morning!

 

 

He loves his little polka-dot giraffe!

(and yes, I have a white wicker changing table!)

 

 

Deacon found a snake and we made him our pet. Sadly though, he made his escape (in our house) and is still MIA to this day... yeah.

 

 

Elijah loves Judah. It's so sweet. He just can't get enough!

 

 

Levi was so brave to attempt rock climbing at the Fall Festival this year. Although he didn't quite make it, he gave it his all!

 

 

This is my favorite.

My 82 year old grandmother called me the day before Thanksgiving and told me that it was about time she teach me how to cook. She was serious. And so this is her showing me how to make mashed potatoes. I played dumb and she felt important. She doesn't eat salt, so they tasted terrible.

 

 

She had us retake the picture too, with us looking at the camera. =)

I can't help but love her!

 



On the way home from the airport a deer hit us. Yes, it ran into us. They ended up totaling it the van. So we had to get a new vehicle. We decided on an Excursion and I love it.

 

 

 

 It's even a diesel!

 

 

Levi was a little too excited about getting a hair cut. I really almost had to cut this out!

 

 

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas around here!

 

 

 

 

 

At the Christmas Parade down town.

 

 

And I realize that the pictures are a little unbalanced... pretty heavy on the Judah side! but here's one more of our cute boy.

 

Judah is 6 months now. That is so hard to believe! It really does go by so fast. We have been thankful every day, even through the hardest moments.

 

Today he is working hard at cutting his first tooth

Going to sleep on his own in his own bed

Sleeping through the night

Eating food

Sitting up

and rolling over!

It's a fun time and we are loving it.

 

Happy 12.12.12!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dinner

Nothing like living off the land...

or the water!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Family Photo Shoot

I'm obviously getting caught up on posting pictures. These were taken back in March. Baby Judah was still tucked inside, but present all the same!
My s-i-l of course was the photographer this day as well. She does amazing work. We don't pay her enough! =) You can check out more about who she is and what she does on her blog the dirt life. She has like 5,000 followers so she must be up to something cool!