St. Andrew Chaplets

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I've gotten a few little notes in the inbox looking for directions to making  St. Andrew chaplets. Oh, we love our purple beads! The St. Andrew Christmas prayer is my favorite Advent devotion. I made the chaplets during bedrest and, like so many things during bedrest, I'm a little sketchy on remembering details. So, I can tell you that the beads are purple jasper (or maybe they are purple crazy lace agate? No, last year's post says jasper). But I can't tell you where I got them. Nor can I tell you where I got the St. Andrew medals. All I know for sure is that it wasn't locally, because...I was on bedrest. I'm sure I ordered them.

The lovely Alice Cantrell has tutorials on how to make chaplets here. Because Alice created them, the tutorials themselves are beautiful:-). Mine are very simple chaplets, easily made in an afternoon. But go order your stuff now! Oh, alright, I love St.Andrew so much, I'll google a little to get you going.

Purple crazy lace agate is here and  jasper is available here. There are St. Andrew medals here. Maybe someone else can find more affordable medals for buying in quantity and leave a link below?

While looking for St Andrew medals this morning, I read this: St. Andrew gifts can be a blessing to women who are hoping to conceive, as Saint Andrew is the patron saint of women desiring to conceive. Who knew? Not me. Though looking back at my experience with this devotion, it doesn't surprise me at all. Good St. Andrew...

Comments are open in case you have questions.


      

Surrender: Find God

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As I mentioned in my Daybook this week, I've scrapped the idea to write about depression. Ever since I mentioned burnout last summer, I've been struck by the emails I've received from mothers who were suffering burnout and even depression. They are not the same thing, but writing about burnout often prompts readers to tell me about depression.I've experienced both.

What was curious about my mail this summer, though, was that much of it -- most of it -- was from experienced, veteran homeschool moms who were looking at a new school year and struggling to find the joy and inspiration they'd always had for this way of life.It was as if some great plague was sweeping through the homes of established home educators and putting out all the lights. Dark and foreboding, this plague threatened to extinguish a great good in our society. 

I believe in spiritual warfare. I believe that the good guys and the bad guys are duking it out up there ( out there?) and that evil prowls the world for the ruin of our souls. And that evil has a vested interest in our children and their future. Where better to fight the fight than at our kitchen tables and home libraries, on our field trips and nature walks? And how better to wage war than to zap the energy and enthusiasm of the mother who is laying down her life for this grand adventure in holy, alternative education?

Indeed. The Commander of Evil had a battle plan: Put doubt and discouragement in the hearts of the experienced mothers, the mentors, the teachers. Rob them of their joy; dry up the wellspring of their gratitude.

Instinctively, we turned to prayer. How, God, did we arrive in this barren place? Show us how.Give drink to thirsty souls who, despite the discouragement of our days, do long to joyfully do your will in our homes with the children you have entrusted to us.

We saw that discouragement and burnout creeps in little by little, one sleepless night at time. We have more children now and find that big kids rob us of sleep in an altogether different but no less exhausting way as small ones. And if we are blessed to have both big and small, sleep is a stranger indeed. Sometimes, we are so tired that we don't even recognize that it is tiredness we feel. It's a blurred line between fatigue and despondency. We are so weary we can't even remember why we thought that this lifestyle was a good idea in the first place.

Burnout begins to erode the rhythm of our days when our guard is down and poor habits take root. The bright,  fresh resolve  we had as new homeschoolers frankly gets a little tarnished around the edges. We get a little lazy. We are still working hard, but yes, if we are honest, we see sloth in the corners and crevices. It's time to fine tune the habit training for everyone in the household, time to commit again to the principles we know to be true.

Discouragement is allowed to fill the rooms of our heart when emptiness leaves space for it. A curious thing seems to happen in the middle years of home education. Loneliness. Co-ops become much trickier to navigate because they don't fill the needs of varied ages. Mom's Night Out is given over to carpooling teenagers. Time alone with our husbands becomes such a precious commodity that we guard it with our lives and rarely sacrifice it for time for female fellowship. Inevitable differences in philosophies of education further separate us from each other. And so very many of our comrades choose school in the middle years. The ranks dwindle. We are increasingly alone.

What to do?

Pray.

That's all. Find God. In the beginning, we can be carried through the challenges of this lifestyle on the shoulders of great ideas and good friends. But that's not enough for the long haul.

Because God knows that this is our vocation and that vocation is all about becoming more like Him. He must increase. I must decrease. I must let go of my notions of magazine-cover homeschooling success. I must let go of my dreams of children growing up in a community of completely like-minded families, never to be challenged by the world or left alone by a bosom buddy. I must let go of my idea of what this is all supposed to look like. Less of me. More of Him. Until it's all Him. We're climbing Calvary here and it's getting steep all of a sudden.

My prayer must be the listening kind. Not the wish list kind. What is it, God? What are you telling me?

+Let go of the failures. You see that child who did something you never thought a child of yours would do? You see that test score that is so not what you imagined? You see that house that doesn't look at all like the one you envisioned? You see failure? I see grace. My grace is sufficient. My plan is perfect. I will take those apparent failures and in the broken emptiness, I will pour abundant grace. I will grow there. Not you.

+Don't listen to the sideline conversation about the excellent education at the topnotch private schools, the promises of intellectual rigor and growth in virtue. Don't hear the women talking about all the good they are doing in the world outside their homes. Don't even incline your ear towards the glowing reports of homeschooling success. Quit comparing. Take joy-genuine joy--in knowing that others are doing God's good work. But don't compete. And don't compare. I want to see you improve and you will only improve if you fix your focus on me, not them.

+Be prepared to set aside your plans. Oh, dear, I know you love those plans! They give you great pleasure, crafting them and sharing them and envisioning how they will come to life and bless your children. But be prepared-- because life will happen. And your plans will be cast aside. I will force you to bend until you break. And into your brokenness, I will pour my grace. First though, you will have to be emptied and laid bare, without the crutch of your own design. My plans are bigger, better. My plans are for salvation.

+Finally, know that you will be be scorned. When you receive only reproaches and blame, when the world looks aghast at the work of your hands, if you can know that you have done my will, you will know peace. And you will know joy. Real joy. The kind that sustains you and lifts you and lights the darkness and warms the cold, tired emptiness. Do my will. Live for me. Do you trust me? Can you surrender?

Daybook: Quiet in the Heart of my Home

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Outside my window::

::it's Saturday morning around dawn as I begin this entry. The rain has stopped at last but it's still gray and very damp. 

 I am listening to::

::quiet. No one is awake yet. I force myself to get out of bed earlier and earlier because I so need the quiet. I've been especially noise-sensitive lately.

I am wearing ::

::A pink fleece bathrobe with satin trim that reminds me of a comfort blanket I had as a child, and a pair of pink fleece slippers. These were my finds at Costco this week. Go! You know you want them, too:-)

To be Fit and Happy::

:: Dear Lord, please grant me one week between now and Christmas when no one is sick. Please? Please?

I am thankful for::

::a fabulous new math tutor who understands our particular brand of dyscalcula and assorted other learning disabilities. I can't tell you how many sleepless nights I've spent trying to figure out how to do what she does so very well. "Thankful" doesn't even begin to capture it.

 I am pondering ::

::The words of the wise heard in quietness are better than the shouting of a ruler among fools. Ecclesiastes 9:17 (not that my children are fools or anything;-)

I am reading ::

::Keep it Simple

From the kitchen::

:: I'm trying to heed Ann's advice and incorporate orange  veggies into at least a meal a day. Favorites here are butternut squash risotto and this curried soup. Morning fare is carrots juice blended with an orange and frozen peaches. I'm looking forward to trying Tracy's pasta. And then there are the ubiquitous pumpkin muffins...

I'm thinking:: 

::I was much more active before I had big kids to do so much of my lifting and carrying for me.

I am creating ::

::a recipe scrapbook with Mary Beth. This resource is so beautiful it deserves its own post. Maybe this week?

On my iPod::

::Free Angelus Christmas MP3. Enter code 212. Exquisite.

Towards a real eduction::

::We have several narration projects to bring to completion this week before we diverge from the regularly scheduled curriculum to the advent-infused curriculum.

::I wonder if the Kindle's text-to-speech feature would bless reluctant readers and dyslexics. If you have firsthand experience with the voice, please send me an email. I don't think they'd like stilted computer-sounding voices...

Towards rhythm and beauty::

::It's interesting; at the beginning of every sports season and every school term, I sit with iCal and fiddle for hours to make it all fit. In some instances--like the carpool scheduling and such--it's very, very necessary. Getting five different kids four different places in the middle of a major traffic hub requires precision. In other cases--like the school planning--I don't even look at iCal again until the next planning period. I plan to make sure that there is theoretically enough time to do it all, but I rarely stick to anything but the most basic skeleton of a plan.

To Live the Liturgy::

::We'll review the mustard seed and the precious pearl in the atrium this week and then synthesize the Kingdom Parables--all in anticipation of advent.

I am hoping and praying::

::more prayers of thanksgiving. Suddenly, I can see God's hand in so many places.

::for healing in my friend Molly's household where H1N1 has landed her infant daughter in the hospital and her others home sick without mom. Please pray for them! (And an interesting note: our hospital is allowing absolutely NO visitors. Molly can't even leave to meet me in the cafeteria. Things are even tighter in the Birthing Inn. I'm grateful that Sarah's saga was last year and not this flu season. I can't imagine how difficult these restrictions are on mamas, babies, and families. Lord, bless them with grace and strength!)

In the Garden::

::roses still blooming. Every year, we hope for that December rose...

Around the House::

::some things are just maintenance things, you know? I never cross them off the to-do list. I finally have a new laundry rhythm. It's so simple that I wonder at my previous struggle. Three loads a day, folded on the dining room table, sorted into baskets according to gender and put away by the oldest child of each gender and me before dinner. Every. single. day.

On Keeping Home::

::we have chosen the wood for the floors and now we're just waiting for delivery. I can hardly wait for the wonderful transformation my house is about to undergo.I keep walking around with the sample in my hand, imagining, imagining, imagining...

One of my favorite things::

::morning. Really. I love morning. I love the quiet. I get up very, very early in order to indulge in morning quiet. The perfect morning proceeds exactly in this order:

  1. morning offering while still in bed,
  2. up and into a warm bathrobe,
  3. cup of tea,
  4. Bible, prayer journal, spiritual book--QUIET TIME
  5. computer for calendar/email check 
  6. time to blog
  7. children awake
  8. breakfast for kids
  9. wake Mike with breakfast in bed

Less-than-perfect mornings: #1 while scooping up the baby so she doesn't wake Mike, then directly to a very abbreviated #4 while hiding in the bathroom and quickly on to #8 & #9--a totally non-negotiable scramble, no pun intended.

Sarah Anne this week::

::Still not crawling, but she has decided that if absolutely necessary she will sit on her bottom and scoot very slowly across the room. She has a new tooth on top, bringing the grand total to 3. In other news, she's not been able to wean off the inhaled steroids that we began again in early September. Poor little love, breathing just doesn't come easy... 

How's the burnout recovery going?

::So, I'm still gathering thoughts on depression, but my mail indicates that this is an intense and very personal topic. Prudence dictates that writing and publishing about it is probably something I should not do until I'm fully rested and have lots and lots of time for discussion. So, we'll hold off on that for ten years or so.

A Few Plans For The Rest Of The Week::

:: Tying up lots of loose ends: putting the finishes touches on the advent school plans; putting the finishing touches on book project; putting every loose thing in my house into a box so that the floors can go in...

::Girls have a Daddy Date to an ice show

::Soccer Tournament this weekend

::shhh...the little boys just might have a surprise trip to Seattle in their future.

 A  Picture Thought I'm Sharing:

Fifth's disease. Of course, we have Fifth's Disease. We've certainly had at least four other diseases since school started. Poor dear.

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