I'm still tottering on the fence of this great divide between institution- and family-centered education. Truthfully, I have more accurately fallen over the family- side of the fence, and am clawing at the wood to see if there is a safe and reasonable way back over to the other side. Surprisingly enough, after a year of standing on the fence convincing my husband how much greener the grass is, we're now both over here, and have discovered that, though lush, it's also very muddy, and the upkeep is much more frequent. I'm not naturally good at tending things. I mean, I don't have plants or pets for a reason. But for whatever reason, it seems God has given me and hubby these ideas with roots that just keep growing.
I think the difference between me and the ideal home-schooling mother is that I don't feel naturally gifted in the home, nor do I feel well-suited to this life. I do, however, have a compelling desire to do the right thing by my children. I wont do it begrudgingly, but it might not be pretty and it wont be perfect. I'm okay with this . . .most days.
Today, was a good day in the mothering realm. It wasn't spectacular, but it gave me hope enough to grace my fall into the garden of home-education.
I awoke to my son gently kissing my cheek, saying "mommy, wake up, I have some holy water for you and our baby." My grown-up five year old had gotten a plastic cup, tiptoed to our prayer corner, and poured me (and in-utero Lyda) some blessed Theophany water we took home from church the other day. By lunchtime we'd said our morning family prayers; made our beds (something the kids are totally showing me up at doing!); I read aloud exerpts from Beowulf, Odysseus, and King Arthur; Eden vaccuumed the kitchen and hallway with her new vaccuum; Emmanuel made PBJ sandwiches for us; we ate together. After lunch, they had quiet time while Evangeline napped, and I read a few pages of "Way of a Pilgrim" in the quietness of my cozy bed. Meanwhile, E-man played with his marble ball track, and Edie put her dollies to bed. Next, they created snakes with playdough, and then we painted attentively in the kitchen together. Afterward, they cleaned the kitchen floor (with vinegar and baking soda)by "skiing" on sponges - they are very thorough, and love this job! After a bath, we then sat down together to watch a library movie Crocodile Hunter, while I preped for dinner, and tended to EvaRuth. When Ben came home, he lit a fire, and we had a picnic dinner in the livingroom, enjoying the warmth of the house.
The day was significant to me because, being productivity-driven, I can sometimes get overwhelmed with what's not done, instead of being present in the reality I have been given. Today, I was able to finish some necessary tasks while also teaching my children how to do it, or rather utilizing their proficient assistance. I was also able to slow down and enjoy them, taking the day as it came, without too much of a list getting in the way. Anyway, it was a good day at home.
It is strangely wonderful when my eyes let me see the most ordinary things as extraordinary. And even better when I begin to feel at home in the ordinary practice of being a mother. Maybe I'm not a natural, but I know I was born for this.
Monday, January 10, 2011
resolved
It has taken me a while to think, really consider, what I might resolve to pursue this year. Today, I stumbled upon Fr. Thomas Hopko's 55 Maxims for Christian Living, which I have come across on many an occassion, but today I thought, "aha! this is it!" While it is a bit loftier than I'd otherwise have come up with on my own for a New Year's Resolution (I was originally thinking one or two resolutions for a year to be perfectly sufficient), it is exactly what I should be pursuing.
And I can already predict, the most difficult one, come December 2011: #44!
But come January 1st, 2012, I'll be piously practicing the 54th Maxim!!
55 Maxims for Christian Living
by Fr. Thomas Hopko
1. Be always with Christ.
2. Pray as you can, not as you want.
3. Have a keepable rule of prayer that you do by discipline.
4. Say the Lord’s Prayer several times a day.
5. Have a short prayer that you constantly repeat when your mind is not occupied with other things.
6. Make some prostrations when you pray.
7. Eat good foods in moderation.
8. Keep the Church’s fasting rules.
9. Spend some time in silence every day.
10. Do acts of mercy in secret.
11. Go to liturgical services regularly
12. Go to confession and communion regularly.
13. Do not engage intrusive thoughts and feelings. Cut them off at the start.
14. Reveal all your thoughts and feelings regularly to a trusted person.
15. Read the scriptures regularly.
16. Read good books a little at a time.
17. Cultivate communion with the saints.
18. Be an ordinary person.
19. Be polite with everyone.
20. Maintain cleanliness and order in your home.
21. Have a healthy, wholesome hobby.
22. Exercise regularly.
23. Live a day, and a part of a day, at a time.
24. Be totally honest, first of all, with yourself.
25. Be faithful in little things.
26. Do your work, and then forget it.
27. Do the most difficult and painful things first.
28. Face reality.
29. Be grateful in all things.
30. Be cheerful.
31. Be simple, hidden, quiet and small.
32. Never bring attention to yourself.
33. Listen when people talk to you.
34. Be awake and be attentive.
35. Think and talk about things no more than necessary.
36. When we speak, speak simply, clearly, firmly and directly.
37. Flee imagination, analysis, figuring things out.
38. Flee carnal, sexual things at their first appearance.
39. Don’t complain, mumble, murmur or whine.
40. Don’t compare yourself with anyone.
41. Don’t seek or expect praise or pity from anyone.
42. We don’t judge anyone for anything.
43. Don’t try to convince anyone of anything.
44. Don’t defend or justify yourself.
45. Be defined and bound by God alone.
46. Accept criticism gratefully but test it critically.
47. Give advice to others only when asked or obligated to do so.
48. Do nothing for anyone that they can and should do for themselves.
49. Have a daily schedule of activities, avoiding whim and caprice.
50. Be merciful with yourself and with others.
51. Have no expectations except to be fiercely tempted to your last breath.
52. Focus exclusively on God and light, not on sin and darkness.
53. Endure the trial of yourself and your own faults and sins peacefully, serenely, because you know that God’s mercy is greater than your wretchedness.
54. When we fall, get up immediately and start over.
55. Get help when you need it, without fear and without shame.
And I can already predict, the most difficult one, come December 2011: #44!
But come January 1st, 2012, I'll be piously practicing the 54th Maxim!!
55 Maxims for Christian Living
by Fr. Thomas Hopko
1. Be always with Christ.
2. Pray as you can, not as you want.
3. Have a keepable rule of prayer that you do by discipline.
4. Say the Lord’s Prayer several times a day.
5. Have a short prayer that you constantly repeat when your mind is not occupied with other things.
6. Make some prostrations when you pray.
7. Eat good foods in moderation.
8. Keep the Church’s fasting rules.
9. Spend some time in silence every day.
10. Do acts of mercy in secret.
11. Go to liturgical services regularly
12. Go to confession and communion regularly.
13. Do not engage intrusive thoughts and feelings. Cut them off at the start.
14. Reveal all your thoughts and feelings regularly to a trusted person.
15. Read the scriptures regularly.
16. Read good books a little at a time.
17. Cultivate communion with the saints.
18. Be an ordinary person.
19. Be polite with everyone.
20. Maintain cleanliness and order in your home.
21. Have a healthy, wholesome hobby.
22. Exercise regularly.
23. Live a day, and a part of a day, at a time.
24. Be totally honest, first of all, with yourself.
25. Be faithful in little things.
26. Do your work, and then forget it.
27. Do the most difficult and painful things first.
28. Face reality.
29. Be grateful in all things.
30. Be cheerful.
31. Be simple, hidden, quiet and small.
32. Never bring attention to yourself.
33. Listen when people talk to you.
34. Be awake and be attentive.
35. Think and talk about things no more than necessary.
36. When we speak, speak simply, clearly, firmly and directly.
37. Flee imagination, analysis, figuring things out.
38. Flee carnal, sexual things at their first appearance.
39. Don’t complain, mumble, murmur or whine.
40. Don’t compare yourself with anyone.
41. Don’t seek or expect praise or pity from anyone.
42. We don’t judge anyone for anything.
43. Don’t try to convince anyone of anything.
44. Don’t defend or justify yourself.
45. Be defined and bound by God alone.
46. Accept criticism gratefully but test it critically.
47. Give advice to others only when asked or obligated to do so.
48. Do nothing for anyone that they can and should do for themselves.
49. Have a daily schedule of activities, avoiding whim and caprice.
50. Be merciful with yourself and with others.
51. Have no expectations except to be fiercely tempted to your last breath.
52. Focus exclusively on God and light, not on sin and darkness.
53. Endure the trial of yourself and your own faults and sins peacefully, serenely, because you know that God’s mercy is greater than your wretchedness.
54. When we fall, get up immediately and start over.
55. Get help when you need it, without fear and without shame.
Friday, January 7, 2011
the gift of gifts
I've been noticing that it seems to be a "must" in the blogging/facebook communities to post pictures of "the goods" one gets on Christmas, with a closeup of gleeful grins and the gift that brought all those teeth to the surface.
.
I didn't even think to take pictures of the four presents we opened on Christmas morning (all of which were joint/shared gifts). I was too busy wondering if we should be giving gifts at all on Christmas. You see, I had just finished reading a Christmas book to my children called "Santa's favorite story", where Santa has to explain that Christmas isn't about him. Of course, at the end of the story, he goes ahead and gives out presents to all the animals in the forest anyway . . . can we say mixed message?!
Back on December 5, I was preparing for St. Nicolas Day. (For more information on this wonderful saint, go here www.stnicholascenter.com) For the second year in a row, our kids have delighted in placing their shoes ourside their door, stuffed with carrots for St. Nicholas' white horse. Then hubby and I exchange the carrots for little chocolate coins (also a legend of St. Nicolas) and other small treats. The kids wake up in the morning super excited about a handful of armymen strategically guarding their doorway, and the sweets. They didn't need an atare (or wait, is it gamebox, xbox 360, wii . . .i can't keep up!) They were happy with this modest surprise. And, of course, so were we! We began the day at church. The rest of the day we read stories about the real St. Nicholas and colored pictures of him, while enjoying our chocoate.
Next year, I plan to add the element of baking cookies together for our neighbors enclosing a special message about the real St. Nicholas, and writing a list together with the children of kind things we can do for others (ie: not things we want to get from santa, but things we want to give in honor of St. Nicholas). We will then work on this list leading up to Christmas. I deeply hope the addition of these two elements will guide us deeper into the Nativity season with more awareness of "the reason for the season." Who knows, we may end up changing our official Christmas gift-giving to this day altogether.
You see, St. Nicholas is really from whom the gift-giving was inspired. Over time, and in Puritanical America where saints lost their status, the traditions of St. Nicolas Day were merged into those of Christmas. Alas the wonderfully generous, God-fearing Bishop Nicholas became the jolly secular marketing genius Santa.
Anyway, back to my original post . . . Even though I am not a big fan of the materialized version of Christmas, I don't want to come across as a "Scrooge". I do afterall like to receive gifts as much as the next blogger. So, I thought I'd post a short list in honor of the most thoughtful gifts we received during this season.
1. hand made dolls. Ben's sister Bethany laboured to make these beautiful hand-crafted dolls for my girls. She put so much love and personality into them; may she know they have received just as much love and personality in return.
2. paint. It's been over 6 years, and our bedroom hasn't seen a lick of paint to grace those horribly dingy walls. Thanks to my husband's thoughtfulness, and my brother's skill, we now have delicious buttercream bedroom walls.
3. geo cashing. We love "doing" gifts the whole family can enjoy. Not only did we have to use our GPS to hunt down our gift hidden in the woods, we also got to redeem tickets to the Dallas World Aquarium. This was a special treat and a great learning adventure for all of us. Thanks Tim and Karina!
So, I had no intention of posting pictures of gleeful getters on my blog, but it seems I've been won over by the masses, and just had to take a photo today of my favorite gift Eden received (from grandma); a real vaccuum! I imagine I don't need to explain why I am so excited about it!
Friday, December 24, 2010
here we go a wassailing
A few days ago, we completed our 7th annual Christmas caroling event. We had a quick runthrough with my mum on the piano at the house, with instructions to "sing the first and last verse of every carol," then out into the neighborhood we tromped. We sang in daylight hours this year to avoid the hazards of "the witching hour" (having young children out past their bedtime). We looked a bit peculiar carring lit candles in broad daylight, but it added to the ambiance. Note to self, skipping verses might lead to strangely construed messages; singing "we wont go until we get some" without the figgy-pudding context is a little embarassing. Anyhow, we returned home for some lentil soup and cider, and to string popcorn by the fire.
As the years have gone by, our caroling has evolved. The first year we did it, there was just three of us; my husband on guitar, my brother on the african drum, and me on the flute. That is the first and only year where traditional carols took on a calypso feel. It was a little weird- sounding, and despite parading up and down our entire street, we had only a few who were willing to open the door to us, and several doors slammed in our faces.
For some reason, the second year we tried again. This time, we caroled with my whole family, my dad leading the way. Little Emmanuel was just a few days old. We bundled him up, and he came too. That year, we were even invited into our neighbors' homes for hot drinks and to use their piano for accompaniment. It was a robust four-part harmony that year. Also that year, we happened to stop by two homes where grief was deep. One home, a mother had died. Another home, a miscarriage had taken place. Both neighbors were visibly moved by our presence, and the words of hope. One neighbor reminds me to this day how much that few minutes of caroling by her door step meant.
Another year, we happened to sing for a family who had recently moved from the self-described "dallas ghetto" (inner-city) to our neighborhood in far north dallas. "We're really in the 'burbs now!" he announced to his wife with wide-eyed surprise.
We've made some progress since those first novice attempts. The year we ended up in DC for Christmas with my parents, we had several homes offer us money (which of course we refused!)
Last year, the pinacle of all years, I compiled carol folders for 30, had the kids make shakers, and added the carol-by-candlelight element. Which was a good addition to make us look less like a mob as we paraded down the street with such a large group. We followed it up with a reading of the Christmas story, and the making of pipe-cleaner ornaments for our barren tree.
When I look back at what "started it all," I distinctly remember as a teenager piling into the back of our car with brass instruments pressed to the roof, driving about the neighborhood to friend's houses, filing hadpazardly out of the car and into someone's house, my dad leading the way with a hearty "Merry Christmas!"
Later, another significant "peg" in my caroling memory was hearing of the Christmas my parents were alone. They single-handedly organized a neighborhood-wide caroling event outside their house, where 300 people were gathered, and carols were projected on the side of their house. The Salvation Army brass band accompanied, and even my mother's Wicken neighbor prepared a Christmas carol on her harp. My mother served up a feast in open-house style to neighbors yet complete strangers. I was truly in awe of my parents and the scope of this grass-roots event. They knew carols weren't just meant for church. People outside the church were hungry for Christ. My parents went to great efforts to leave no one in the neighborhood uninvited to hear songs of this Christ, the newborn King.
At our house, each year has turned out slightly different from the last, but each has a distinct memory of its own. This year, what is most significant to me, is that it is the first year without my dad, the pioneer of our family's tradition. It's the first year where I have a weighty sense of responsibility for passing down a family tradition he began. The beauty of God's timing is that over the years of married life and a blossoming family, I barely noticed that this tradition has truly become ours. It is no longer me trying to recreate something I did as a kid and teen, but rather a tradition that is uniquely our own, with a rich legacy that came before. Perhaps I'll never have a caroling year as grandios as the one my parents arranged, but it is something to aspire to!
As the years have gone by, our caroling has evolved. The first year we did it, there was just three of us; my husband on guitar, my brother on the african drum, and me on the flute. That is the first and only year where traditional carols took on a calypso feel. It was a little weird- sounding, and despite parading up and down our entire street, we had only a few who were willing to open the door to us, and several doors slammed in our faces.
For some reason, the second year we tried again. This time, we caroled with my whole family, my dad leading the way. Little Emmanuel was just a few days old. We bundled him up, and he came too. That year, we were even invited into our neighbors' homes for hot drinks and to use their piano for accompaniment. It was a robust four-part harmony that year. Also that year, we happened to stop by two homes where grief was deep. One home, a mother had died. Another home, a miscarriage had taken place. Both neighbors were visibly moved by our presence, and the words of hope. One neighbor reminds me to this day how much that few minutes of caroling by her door step meant.
Another year, we happened to sing for a family who had recently moved from the self-described "dallas ghetto" (inner-city) to our neighborhood in far north dallas. "We're really in the 'burbs now!" he announced to his wife with wide-eyed surprise.
We've made some progress since those first novice attempts. The year we ended up in DC for Christmas with my parents, we had several homes offer us money (which of course we refused!)
Last year, the pinacle of all years, I compiled carol folders for 30, had the kids make shakers, and added the carol-by-candlelight element. Which was a good addition to make us look less like a mob as we paraded down the street with such a large group. We followed it up with a reading of the Christmas story, and the making of pipe-cleaner ornaments for our barren tree.
When I look back at what "started it all," I distinctly remember as a teenager piling into the back of our car with brass instruments pressed to the roof, driving about the neighborhood to friend's houses, filing hadpazardly out of the car and into someone's house, my dad leading the way with a hearty "Merry Christmas!"
Later, another significant "peg" in my caroling memory was hearing of the Christmas my parents were alone. They single-handedly organized a neighborhood-wide caroling event outside their house, where 300 people were gathered, and carols were projected on the side of their house. The Salvation Army brass band accompanied, and even my mother's Wicken neighbor prepared a Christmas carol on her harp. My mother served up a feast in open-house style to neighbors yet complete strangers. I was truly in awe of my parents and the scope of this grass-roots event. They knew carols weren't just meant for church. People outside the church were hungry for Christ. My parents went to great efforts to leave no one in the neighborhood uninvited to hear songs of this Christ, the newborn King.
At our house, each year has turned out slightly different from the last, but each has a distinct memory of its own. This year, what is most significant to me, is that it is the first year without my dad, the pioneer of our family's tradition. It's the first year where I have a weighty sense of responsibility for passing down a family tradition he began. The beauty of God's timing is that over the years of married life and a blossoming family, I barely noticed that this tradition has truly become ours. It is no longer me trying to recreate something I did as a kid and teen, but rather a tradition that is uniquely our own, with a rich legacy that came before. Perhaps I'll never have a caroling year as grandios as the one my parents arranged, but it is something to aspire to!
Monday, December 13, 2010
full hands, full heart
Not a day goes by without me being the recipient of the "You've got your hands full" comment. I might be quietly window shopping in complete serenity while my perfect children obediently lap at my ankles . . .or they might be running circles around me. Regardless, the unsolicited comments are a guaranteed addition to any public outing we take. Today at the mall, for example, I received no less than three You've got your hands full, all before I met up with my quad-stroller-pushing-mother-of-4-under-4 friend. By the time we met, she'd already received a few of her own. I am still caught off guard by these comments, whether they be cruel or sympathetic in nature; I just don't consider three children a large family, and I just don't consider that statement a compliment. Therefore, I feel genuinely surprised and a little annoyed.
You've got your hands full.
After thinking it over for some time now, it seems to me that the statement insinuates, "Why do you have such an abnormally large family? A person who lives in control over nature, a responsible, pro-choice person, would, afterall, not let that happen."
"Don't you know Europe's dying because they won't make babies? Don't you know I'm busy saving civilization right now?" (I feel like piously responding, but instead smile sheepishly and keep to myself.) Ask my husband, proponent of the right-wing book America Alone. It contains all the evidence and statistics needed to comprehend the big picture of a culture that's at stake, Christianity in decline. And it all starts in the family, with having children.
Do I have my hands full? Yes. But my heart is full also. For all those commentators out there, I would recommend a gentler statement like "You are truly blessed." This is the way God sees it, afterall, and He recommends a quiverful.
You've got your hands full.
After thinking it over for some time now, it seems to me that the statement insinuates, "Why do you have such an abnormally large family? A person who lives in control over nature, a responsible, pro-choice person, would, afterall, not let that happen."
"Don't you know Europe's dying because they won't make babies? Don't you know I'm busy saving civilization right now?" (I feel like piously responding, but instead smile sheepishly and keep to myself.) Ask my husband, proponent of the right-wing book America Alone. It contains all the evidence and statistics needed to comprehend the big picture of a culture that's at stake, Christianity in decline. And it all starts in the family, with having children.
Do I have my hands full? Yes. But my heart is full also. For all those commentators out there, I would recommend a gentler statement like "You are truly blessed." This is the way God sees it, afterall, and He recommends a quiverful.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
the dreaded christmas letter
I'm having a bit of trouble with the annual Christmas letter this year. Normally, I have a short list of "events" with running commentary. This year, a letter like that might just seem a bit dramatic (short list: baby born, dad died, pregnant again) or trite (since how exactly do you "quantify" life-altering events like these in a few simple sentences?)
I think I'm also starting to feel the pressure (self-inflicted, of course) to have my letter mean something, emote something, or be something more than it is (a family update). I have exhausted my anecdotes and cute little Jesus stories of past years. Even my husband tonight suggested I play off of the Rent song "Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes" (How do you measure a year? In love). Great idea, except that I did that last year. So, here I am, at the last minute as usual, procrastinating by posting a blog about my unwritten christmas letter!
Perhaps at the root of it all is that I have yet to spend some personal time of contemplation and prayer, thanking God for the blessings and trials of the past year, and seeking meaning from Him. It's my consolation that if words fail me, at least recipients will get a handsome Christmas photo of the family and be spared the dirty details (of Eden's potty training and the like!).
I think I'm also starting to feel the pressure (self-inflicted, of course) to have my letter mean something, emote something, or be something more than it is (a family update). I have exhausted my anecdotes and cute little Jesus stories of past years. Even my husband tonight suggested I play off of the Rent song "Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes" (How do you measure a year? In love). Great idea, except that I did that last year. So, here I am, at the last minute as usual, procrastinating by posting a blog about my unwritten christmas letter!
Perhaps at the root of it all is that I have yet to spend some personal time of contemplation and prayer, thanking God for the blessings and trials of the past year, and seeking meaning from Him. It's my consolation that if words fail me, at least recipients will get a handsome Christmas photo of the family and be spared the dirty details (of Eden's potty training and the like!).
the annual christmas photo - from merry to mad
It has become a tradition now to take a family picture once a year in November for the Christmas card release in December. As our family expands (or at least I do), it becomes more and more challenging to get us all in one clump for the click. Never mind looking at the camera, and forget smiling.
The first year we became a family of four, and our budget shrank too small to do a "studio portrait," we had my father-in-love meet us at the greenbelt by our house. The only problem was my dear father-in-love just can't bear to take a picture unless all persons within his sight are frozen to perfection. With zesty little critters hippity-hopping every which way, there just wasn't a practical way to "wait" for the perfect shot! In the end, we got some lovely photos that year, it just took quite a long time!
Last year, my best friend's husband took about 200 photos in about 30 minutes. His strategy: just follow us a round in our "natural habitat." Even with his fabulous camera work and editing capabilities, there were just a few that were up for release to the public. (This, of course, really means that mama looked good . . .just kidding). All we needed; just one or two keepers for the family archives. And how those three or four pictures were complimented by the masses!
So this year, I somehow managed to coerce him into doing it again. This time, though, there were five of us to clump and click. Forget posing, forget looking at the camera, just get us altogether in one shot without too much torture. And miraculously, he did!
My sister has this thing about receiving Christmas cards with just the kids. She prefers to have the whole family. So even though I had a clear favorite which included only the kids (which I will post here), I went ahead and picked a lesser-of-evils family favorite to appease my sister and humble myself (mama don't look so good in this one!) . Though this one goes in the family Christmas card (what is a family Christmas card without a family photo?), my favorite, the one that goes in the memory books, is the one of just the kids. So tender, so sweet. A between-brawls moment in time that was captured just so perfectly. And just to give you a bit more perspective on my Dr. Jackle-Mr. Hyde children, I'll post the moment immediately following . . .
Will he do it again next year, when there is six of us?? I think I'll have to start paying him!
Thanks, 'Albert'!
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