Real Learning is sold out in the Heart of my Home Store. Thanks so much for your interest and enthusiasm. I must admit, I was caught off guard and even had to raid our personal stash to fill the orders. There are a few copies of Small Steps and the Journal still available. I can sign and ship until tomorrow morning and then, we'll take a long winter's nap.
It does look like Linda at Sacred Heart Books and Gifts still has copies of Real Learning here.
Outside My Window
Is the beach. We’re in Bethany Beach,
Delaware for a few days. I’m writing, even though I have no internet access,
because, well, I need to do a brain dump. I’ll post when I get home (or to a
Starbucks;-).
I am Listening to
Six of my children singing Do-Re-Mi.
They’re working on harmonies.
I am so Grateful
for
All the things that conspired on July
30th, to find Mike, Paddy, and me alone in the car, late in the
afternoon. Patrick’s cell phone rang.
It was a number he didn’t recognize, something he usually ignores. He called
out the first few digits. “Say, hello,” I said, “I think I know.” We had heard this might be coming.
Then Mike and were privileged to listen
in on Paddy’s end of “the call of his life.”
“Yes, this is Patrick.”
“Yes, Patrick Foss.”
“Hello.”
“Yes, I would like that. I’d like that
very much!”
There was not a dry eye in the car at
that point. Paddy had just been offered the opportunity to travel to Florida to
train with the U17 National Team. If he plays well and decides to he wants to stay, they will invite him stay
on for the year and train to play in the U17 World Cup next fall.
And so I’m grateful.
I’m grateful I got
to share that moment with Mike and Paddy. I’m grateful to all the people who
have worked so hard on Paddy’s behalf. I’m grateful to our Lord for the
blessing of talent.
Grateful.
I’m trying desperately to focus on
grateful.
I'm Pondering
Education is an Atmosphere, a Discipline, and a Life. ~Charlotte Mason
I am Reading
Charlotte Mason in the original. She’s
my no-nonsense mentor telling me to stay the course, though this is not exactly
the way I saw it playing out when Charlotte and I were introduced 13 years ago.
I am Thinking
About how quickly time passes and how
precious moments are. They say that when you are the mother of little ones, the
hours are long and the years are short.
They just get shorter. And all those
endless hours of driving to practice and sitting on sidelines? Paddy’s not
likely to need me to do that any more. Just like that. I went from being
overwhelmed by what was required of me by him to being bereft at the thought of
not having those things to do. He’s off on the adventure of a lifetime.
I’m home.
Praying.
I am Creating
This year, I am committing my lesson
plans to the CM Organizer. I spent hours the past two weeks working on plans
for everyone. The Cm Organizer and the Real Learning booklist are a match made
in heaven. It was such a pleasure to introduce the two and see living plans
spring to life. What this means is that, unlike in years past, when my plans
were Word documents, I have no real plans to share plans this year. It’s nice
to focus only on my own children and their needs and not wonder how something
will be received. Serendipity will remain as a resource, but there won’t be any
new content in the near future. Of course, there will always be the spilling over of our life onto these virtual pages, just not tidy forethought in PDF plans.
On
my iPod
Sonya
Shafer Laying Down the Rails (and every other audio/video production she offers, now playing in my computer). Sonya Shafer amazes me! She really, really knows
her stuff and even now—sixteen years into this homeschooling venture—she
inspires and encourages me. Sonya is bright and articulate, warm and compassionate. I've heard zillions of homeschooling speakers over the last 20 years and it takes someone special for me to sit up, take notes, and (frankly) order more. There's really nothing new for me here, but there is calm, friendly assurance that this method is best above all others. Sonya acknowledges that mothers can bring their own book selections and should tailor to suit each child individually (but she also offers a full curriculum if you'd rather have someone else plan it for you--Catholics will have to add a bit). She doesn't make it complicated, doesn't act like you have to be a Charlotte Mason expert to do it well. Instead, she makes it incredibly accessible and utterly
SIMPLE.
Towards a Real
Education
I’m nearly finished with our plans. I
had planned to put the final touches on things this week, while I am away at
the beach. But I’ve got no online access, so those last few things will have to
wait.
Towards
Rhythm and Beauty
It’s the rhythm of the ocean, right
now. And we are surrounded by utter beauty in my friend Jen’s house. The last
few days have brought such crashing waves of emotion for us. We are thrilled
for Patrick of course, but we shore ourselves up, knowing that some big
decisions and life changes lay ahead. Even the littlest among us is affected by
this change in family dynamic. Paddy is a born leader, even (especially)
amongst his siblings. It’s hard to imagine that in only a week he could be gone
for a year, or more. You think you have forever, autumn after autumn, one new
school year after another, to start fresh and promise God and everybody you
will get it right this time. And then, all of a sudden, it comes to pass that
time just might be up. It’s a big world out there. We need every single minute
to get them ready to go.
Who am I kidding? We need every single
minute to get us ready for them to go.
To Live the Liturgy
Don’t tell anyone, but Fr. T. actually did a little jump for joy upon hearing Paddy’s news. Paddy’s got his number programmed into his cell phone. He knows, really knows, he can call any time.
Grateful, grateful, grateful for God’s timely providence.
I’m grateful.
I
am Hoping and Praying
That we know His will and do it with great joy.
In the Garden
No clue what’s happening in my garden but Bethany’s in
full bloom.
Around the House
I left my house clean. And I’m keeping
Jen’s house clean. It’s easier here somehow. Not as much stuff, I guess?
From the Kitchen
Simple,
simple meals. And way too much snacking.
One of My Favorite Things
Teenagers with toddlers on their hips.
This is one of those moments I want to hold forever in my heart. (Of course,
shortly after this a wave knocked Mary Beth over and she and Karoline tumbled.
Karoline is convinced she drowned and refuses to speak to Mary Beth, even now. The
moment was nice, though).
Sarah
Annie this week
She sings
Do-Re-Mi. Cutest thing I ever heard. Ever.
A
Few Plans for the Rest of the Week
We’re
here until late Wednesday, then back home. Paddy has an intense sports physical
scheduled and we have some unexpected dorm shopping to do.
Picture thoughts:
Lots to think about
as he scans the sea.
I gathered my girls in the morning, just after Morning Prayer. The day had dawned a brilliant, beautiful sunshiny blue. This is the day the Lord has made!
My mood did not match the day, nor did it reflect our stated mission. I was decidedly melancholy. And I was decidedly determined to shake the sadness. I considered my options. I could try to figure out why I was feeling the way I was or I could just determinedly push the feelings out of the way. I chose the latter, though I knew full well that strategy hadn't always worked in the past. The former, quite honestly, just seemed like too much work.
This was a much anticipated traditional trip to the nursery near our home. As I loaded four girls into the van, I remembered the first time I ever visited the nursery. Mary Beth was a baby. It was three boys who tagged along with us. I was so thrilled to be in a new house with room enough for a proper garden. I learned quickly that the farmers at this renowned nursery took their plants very seriously. Their gruffness caught me by surprise and I wondered if perhaps I should not have brought children. Now, thirteen years later, I wonder the same thing. Actually, I have wondered that every year, as the ownership has transferred from Tom deBaggio to his son, Francesco. But now, I have come to expect his manner and not to take it personally. I even giggle a little at the predictability. When, I wonder, will the words of other people roll so easily off my back. Ever?
When I returned home after my first outing here all those many years ago, I wrote about it for Faith and Family. Only it wasn't called Faith and Family back then and it wasn't in color. It wasn't even a magazine, but a newspaper, all in black and white. Come to think of it, I don't even think I filed the story via email...
What a long way we've come.
I push thoughts of the book from my mind and focus on the task, the joys, at hand. I read tomato descriptions with Mary Beth and let Karoline rub and smell every variety of basil (watching carefully for Mr. de Baggio out of the corner of my eye).
I say Yes when the girls ask to buy rose-scented soap, even though we have a generous stash of lovely soap at home. I carry Sarah from the back porch to the greenhouse to the pond to the store, pointing to this plant and that, trying not to notice that it is growing increasingly hot and she is growing increasingly heavy.
At the checkout, Francesco de Baggio offers his annual stern warning. "I don't want my peppers to see nights below 55 degrees, nor should the basil. And tomatoes don't go in before you are sure it won't go lower than 45." I solemnly assure him that I wouldn't dare plant until the seedlings are properly hardened off, all the while wondering if I can get these plants in before the weekend. He reads my mind." It's going to be in the 40s Saturday and Sunday night." I consider taking my chances. Nah. The forbidding in his foreboding gives me pause.
These are his precious plants. He spends the whole year preparing them, tending them, researching how to make them better, loving them into existence. How hard it must be for him to send those plants out into the world! He doesn't know me at all. Will I appreciate the toil he put into bringing them to me. Will I love them? Will they bear fruit under my care?
Suddenly, try as might, I cannot forget the books. There they go, out into the world. Every long bedrest afternoon, spent surrounded by books of saints' quotations. Every early morning, up before the rest of the world, crafting prayers and praying for inspiration. Every warm friendly conversation, headset in place, reaching across geography to write with a friend in New Hampshire. Every revision of manuscripts. Every consideration of format and layout and font. Out into the world
Seeds of my heart, tended in my own greenhouse, cultivated with care. Out into the world.
I can only hope and pray that they blossom brilliantly.
Not mine any more.
They are yours.
I'm Elizabeth. I'm a happy wife and the mother of nine children. I grab grace with both hands and write to encourage myself and others to seize and nurture the joy of every day. I blog here with my daughter, Mary Beth, a wholehearted young lady on the brink of adulthood.
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