...just not in the way previously thought. You knew it was coming didn't you, after yesterday? I was bound to write my annual "please stop whining about your kids" essay. I actually wrote it a couple of weeks ago. It just seems more improtant in light of yesterday. Read on, please...
I went out to the garden early this morning, mostly so my kids wouldn't see me cry. Over the last day, our family has been trying to absorb the very bad news conveyed to a good friend. Without talking too much about details--because truly they are too tender for words here--I bring to you an earnest request for prayers. For our friend, for his family, for his doctors, for all the people who love him: please pray.
And I offer to you some perspective that hit me as I was pulling weeds amongst the lavender.
Yesterday, before the news went from bad to very bad, I was talking to an old friend about the idealistic homeschooler I used to be. I was lamenting (more than a little) the loss of such optimism and confidence. And I was wondering aloud if perhaps I don't always choose the hard way of doing things, only to end up with the same result as people who do things the seemingly easier way.
She spoke sense to me and I put the conversation away. Mostly, my thoughts were interrupted by much more urgent matters. My thoughts were interrupted by a real life crisis, not a philosophical demon of my own making.
Today, in the garden, while wrestling with tall grass grown up around the lavender, I thought of a remark my sister-in-law made within my earshot long ago. She told someone that we chose to homeschool because I had had cancer. At the time, I remember thinking that wasn't really true. We came at home education from a different place, a place rooted in educational theory. I very much wanted to embrace homeschooling from a pedagogical perspective. Then, not long into our journey, we learned about the spiritual benefits. But I never really thought it was about cancer.
It sort of was, though. I truly didn't know how many days I had (none of us do) and I wanted to invest huge quantities of quality time into my marriage, and children, and family. Home education seemed the best way to do that. It was what we heard God calling us to do.
It was what was right for our family.
The reality is that my cancer experience shaped the idealistic, hopeful young mother I was. Today, my eldest child texted me from the bedside of his dearest friend and I relived those days that shaped me--shaped us. My heart broke for him. These present days are dark days, indeed.
But his friend has grown in wisdom and stature and understanding of the Lord in a home very much like ours. And the missives this boy sends me are insistent that he serves an awesome, merciful God. Somewhere in his youth and childhood, someone got something very right. Whatever comes, he goes into this fight wearing the full armor of God.
Sometimes, it's not readily apparent what the benefits of home education are. Particularly as children get older, it's easy to become discouraged or to second guess this grand (and often messy) experiment. It's easy to despair and to wonder at the [broken?] promises that if we just did things this way, the teenaged and college years would be a breeze.
There in the garden, taking deep breaths of lavender to keep from sobbing, I took up the previous day's conversation with my friend. It was too easy to imagine a mother's pain as her child suffers. This young man's mother is in my constant thoughts and prayers.
Where to find the peace in what seems like like such senseless, tragic news? What to tell my children as they each offer their own version of "why?"
In the early morning garden, my friend offered that the idealistic young girl could find peace in the reality of the here and now, only if she has grown into a wise woman who "laughs at the days to come." She said that meant that in the midst of the mess and the ugly and the sick and the pain, we know there will be joy, there will be grace. There will be eternal things to hold on to and give it all meaning and purpose.
Somehow, the idealistic young girl knew those things years ago, when in the wake of cancer, she determined to keep her young son at home a while longer and teach him how good life is. The weathered older mother prays fervently that those lessons were well learned and that now he can intimately know God's grace in the midst of tremendous sorrow.
Tomorrow will bring more news, no doubt. Tomorrow, instead of tall grass I can pull with my hands, I will have to conquer the ridiculous, prickly weeds and the blighted leaves of my beloved roses. There will be thorns, no doubt. There will be thorns. I will need the full armor of heavy gloves and pruning shears. But there will be blooms, too, and I am determined to see them, to appreciate them, and to share them with my children.
::noticing God's glory
The garden is utterly waterlogged. I was seriously tempted to cover it all with big plastic tarps today. Just way too much rain. Tomorrow, it's going to be all about cutting away a whole lot of yellow leaves-- basil, tomatoes, roses-- lots of waterlogged, fungus-ridden leaves. So sad.
::listening to
Girls giggling in a room that is nearly perfectly clean and tidy. Sigh...that was a project. I slowly took every single picture book we owned off the shelves and then reshelved them all neatly and with some sense of order. Such lovely shelves, now.
::clothing myself in
An ESPN 20th anniversary T-shirt (that's 14 years old but hasn't been worn until today) and boxer shorts. It's 3:30 on Sunday afternoon. My two little girls have been fever-free for about three hours now. Here's hoping we're on a roll. It's been a long week. Karoline has had a fever for days and days. Still does...
::talking with my children about these books
Still Shakespeare. Karoline really, truly loves Shakespeare! It's so much fun to watch how engaged she is. The girls (under the influence of Fancy Nancy: Poet Extraordinaire) want to add Poetry Wednesday to our Shakespeare Fridays. I'll dust off these plans, breathe some fresh air into them, and slowly finish out the alphabet of poetry lessons.
And I've begun to slowly page through Inner Excavation. Looks like good inspiration for summer renewal.
::thinking and thinking
about battling back from burnout. I have to admit that I'm burned out. I tried to deny it, tried to defy it. Now, I'm "battling back." Actually, I plan to retitle that chapter in its new edition. "Battling back" sounds like so much work. Instead, I'm embracing renewal. I've got lots of new ideas about burnout. When I wrote that chapter a dozen or so years ago, no one was emailing with team updates every ten minutes. There was no constant barrage of social media. My phone didn't go with me when I left the house. I was thinking about survival in the near term and not necessarily sustainability over the long haul. It just seems like there is so much more noise, so much input.
Ah, but I was also unable to pray the Liturgy of the Hours while sitting in the waiting room outside an college IEP meeting. couldn't text a friend when I got stuck on the renewal journey. So, it's not all bad. Can the internet be a tool in renewal? I'm pondering that.
::pondering prayerfully
“As an antidote to time-wasting and sometimes even alienating indulgence in superficial media programs,” the document proposed that the students should be “guided to the love and practice of reading, study, silence, and meditation. They should be encouraged, and be provided with the necessary conditions for community dialogue and prayer. This will serve to remedy the isolation and self-absorption caused by the unidirectional communication of the mass media . . .” [emphasis mine]
as quoted in this great article sent to me by Elizabeth Williams.
::carefully cultivating rhythm
Aimee is my renewal coach. (This might surprise her; I recruited her;-). I texted her on Friday, my first full day without something gridded in the calendar. I truly was at a loss. What to do? I'm not overstating this befuddlement on my part. I'd been so looking forward to this time, but in the wake of an utter adrenaline crash, I couldn't make the simplest of decisions.
She insisted I not look at a clock. Such good advice! I spent the weekend listening to my body's cues and moving within my own rhythm. This wasn't entirely perfectly executed. Two sick little girls definitely dictated many of my movements and I peeked at the clock to time dosing meds. But mostly, I rubbed a lot of peppermint oil and On Guard on the soles of sweet, feverish feet. I sipped tea. I only ate things that would nourish me. I made cleansing, refreshing, clean smoothies. I pulled weeds. I took a nap with Serenity blowing across my pillow (diffuser is here). A nap! A real afternoon nap and I didn't even worry that it would disrupt my sleep at night (it didn't). I soaked in a tub full of Epsom salt and lavender and eucalyptus. I rubbed Balance on my neck and shoulders and feet and palms before working out--every day two or three times a day. Then, I took long showers and then doused myself with Citrus Biss. The rhythm wasn't imposed from without, but grew organically from within.
.
::creating by hand
Finishing some projects, sewing some buttons, and working up the courage to start cutting pieces for Mary Beth's quilt.
::learning lessons in
listening to inner cues and making time for self care.
::encouraging learning
Christian and I got an education in IEP college-style. We visited James Madision University last week and we were introduced to the resources available there. I'm so impressed! He's on his own to tap into those resources--I'm not a part of this picture much at all--but there are resources there and we met some really good people.
::begging prayers
In the last three weeks, three people very close to me have confronted a cancer diagnosis. In the last three weeks, the children of three families close to me have struggled with the realities of new divorces. There are reminders constantly near at hand that we live in a fallen world. We send up our sighs, mourning and weeping. Please, please pray for all!
::keeping house
I promised Aimee I would only "putter" for the near term. There is so much digging in to do here! I did text for clarification when I began the great bookshelf project. There's another bookshelf project awaiting me downstairs, too. The reality is that the way my brain works, bookshelf organizing accomplishes about 80% homeschool planning. So, even though I promised Aimee I wouldn't plan--and I really, really didn't put a single plan to paper--it's all in my head, friends;-).
::crafting in the kitchen
The boys have been in New England for the Region 1 Soccer Championship. The girls and I have hit the Farmers' Market hard for our meals. There's even a really lovely slow walk to be had there early on Saturday mornings. Katie and I could live solely on vegetables and legumes. She told me--and I agree-- that "beans and greens" is the best lunch ever for summer. Mary Beth is hanging in there and holding me to the promise of caprese salad. Ah, fresh mozarella! Will that be where I cave and eat dairy?
.
Watermelon, cucumber, lemon, and mint: morning happy in a glass.
greens from our garden with garden rosemary, garlic, and slow cooked beans
::loving the moments
when I awaken feeling rested.
::giving thanks
for someone who understands burnout and renewal and is gently encouraging recovery.
::planning for the week ahead
I'm planning to blog this week:-). Sometimes, when I'm really running on empty, I don't have the heart to even open the computer. I know that it's time for a shutdown, time to nurture the introvert that I am by shutting off the noise--all the noise. For a few days last week, I didn't touch the computer, didn't check in with social media on my phone, even refused to watch a chick flick with my big girl because I didn't want to make an emotional investment. We watched that movie last night. This afternoon finds me here with you. I'm on my way...
The internet is a formidable force for bringing the comfort and consolation and hope of the Lord to all of us. It can be an incredibily powerful medium for community. There is an unfathomable resource for prayer here. We have on the 'net the privilege of praying for people and of being witness to the miracles brought forth when fervent, faith-filled people pray for one another.
Let's be that community of hope and faith for one another.
How about this idea? What if I pop in here every weekend, share Sunday's gospel and talk a wee bit about how we can live it and pray it in our homes? And then you tell me how we can pray for you that week? Deal?
{And please, do return and let us know how prayer is bearing fruit.}
As they were proceeding on their journey someone said to him,
“I will follow you wherever you go.”
Jesus answered him,
“Foxes have dens and birds of the sky have nests,
but the Son of Man has nowhere to rest his head.”
And to another he said, “Follow me.”
But he replied, “Lord, let me go first and bury my father.”
But he answered him, “Let the dead bury their dead.
But you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.”
And another said, “I will follow you, Lord,
but first let me say farewell to my family at home.”
To him Jesus said, “No one who sets a hand to the plow
and looks to what was left behind is fit for the kingdom of God.”
Pray
Lord, help me to let you lead.
Act
Follow Him. Keep your eyes on Him. And smile.
The recitals were Saturday. Three shows. Countless costumes and accessories. I've got lots of thoughts. But my introverted self really needs quiet stillness for a bit.
Last winter, Karoline begged to do a solo. Mary Beth begged to choreograph one for her. I didn't think it a good idea. She's still so little and I want to guard her innocence (and those of her sisters). I was--and still am--very leery of "dance culture." Mary Beth met my admonition to let her be little head on. They worked on this dance together and asked if she could just dance it at the recital "as a gift to Daddy." Then, Mary Beth was injured, her duet already paid for, and well, we let Karoline take her place at competition. This is a video of Karoline's very first solo dance performance ever--her first time on stage alone. It was shot in March. I've kept it until now because I wanted Mike to have his special gift at the recital. So, he first saw her dance this on Saturday.
That's all I've got for today. I pray the day brings to your the brightness and beauty of summertime in all its glory--and a little slow time, too.
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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