cultivating home

 

Laura Ingalls Wilder kept me company the other evening as I waited for the last of my dancers to finish their classes.  This slim volume is a quick read, but full of little gems that are best understood when taken in small bits and really thought over.  

This passage articulates an idea that a dear friend and I have encouraged each other to embrace and to put into practice.  I lapsed a bit this week and once more, the truth of these words came back to me.  So I regrouped and am redirecting my attention. Once more I realize that the wisdom of days gone by runs contrary to what is widely circulated today.  Once more, I am amazed by how much better life goes when I follow it. 

"It is truly surprising how anything grows and grows by talking about it.  We have a slight headache and mention the fact.  As an excuse to ourselves for inflicting it upon our friends, we make it as bad as possible in the telling. "Oh I have such a dreadful headache," we say and immediately we feel much worse. Our pain has grown by talking of it. 

If there is a disagreement between friends and the neighbors begin talking about it, the difficulty grows like jimsonweed, and the more it is talked about, the faster it grows…

The same law seems to work in both human nature and in the vegetable kindgom and in the world of ideas with the changes caused just by talk, either positive or negative. Even peas and cabbages grow by cultivation, by keeping the soil "stirred" around them.

Now it isn't enough in any garden to cut down the weeds. The cutting out of weeds is important but cultivating the garden plants is just as necessary. If we want vegetables, we must make them grow, not leave the ground barren where we have destroyed the weeds. Just so, we must give much of our attention to the improvements we want, not all to the abuses we would like to correct.

If we hope to improve conditions anywhere, we must do a great of talking of better things."

Some frames of the "better" things right under my nose this week…

 

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Yes, the weather has been all over. And yes, somehow we are still spotting a few stray insects.  There have been many butterflies in the house this fall – perhaps from the chimneys?  

Brendan is holding one of the giant sugar beets recently harvested on the farm. 

Reading book here.  Little Bob readers here.  Puzzle here.  Similar pillow here

daybook

My journal lately consists of many notes. I always think I am going to expound upon them. I never do. Maybe they might also mean something to someone else, or they may lose a lot in translation. But am going to record them here when I can and we shall see how it goes. I can promise no well thought through essays, only these random thoughts I mull.

 

Reading: Mirror of True Womanhood   Inspiring. That's all I can say about that. Will likely be sharing more from this one.

Listening to: traditional Irish music. The children had a feis this weekend. The music is usually one of the best parts, but I admit seven hours of accordian tunes can tax the most ardent fan.

Enjoying: film photography. At least in theory. Finding myself following more and more old school photographers. After three years of studying contemporary portraiture daily I can say that much it is beginning to run together. The faces change but the poses and props…. not so much. When done well it is inarguably beautiful and requires tremendous skill.  But my heart is someplace else these days.

In the kitchen: Alannah has discovered she enjoys making menus. This is a really good thing. Shopping for thanksgiving tomorrow. We don't need a menu for that though. If the usual family thanksgiving dishes do not appear on the table on Thursday, it would be unspeakable as far as my children are concerned. At least the one who is now making menus….

Thought to start the week:

"If my children or myself ever seem to totter on the brink, without a severe word or reproachful look (she) supports them with the hand and me with the heart."

-from above linked book and originally quoted by Digby in Compitum

Sharing:  walking a local trail before Kieran's football game…

 

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this day

 

A letter a very sweet woman wrote last week has had me thinking.  She recently found this space and had been reading through the archives.  She asked if I ever wrote about homeschooling or life in a very large family with a wide age spread.  What is that really like, she asks?  I have begun to explain several times.  I sit at this keyboard and type and type and then hit delete and go to bed. : )   Increasingly, what is in my heart is easier to show in images than to try to sum up in a few words. 

I can point to this day was a pretty good example.  It was beautiful.  It was messy. It was loud. It was full of gritty sandwiches and soggy socks. And smiles. Probably a couple of tears. Handholding. Running ahead, falling behind.  A lift when needed.  Exhilarating and exhausting. Worth every minute.  It ended like so many other nights, squished together on couches, covered with blankets, debating who is going to be in charge of the remote. 

It was good.  Very good.  

Simple and not easy. 

 

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Why You Shouldn’t Read This Blog

 

I read a really compelling story a while back about a woman's battle with media addiction.  When I lost the original article a google search brought up a linky party.  As in, if you felt social media was taking up space in your heart and mind and time that it shouldn't, you could take an unplugging challenge.  There was even a widget for your blog, to announce you were unplugging.  Except you were only permitted to display it if you committed to blogging about your unplugging exercise.  Social media discussions about how to spend less time on social media…..  wha?

I am not judging motives here.  Just questioning the method.  This evening I found better advice here. : ) It reminded me of one of my favorite early childhood curriculum authors from the early days of homeschooling.  I so admired her devotion and self discipline.  She and her family moved to a rural area to live more simply and…. that's the end of that story.  No drama.  No fame outside her home. I think perhaps her silent witness has spoken more to me over the years than all the articles I have read. 

I dearly love chatting with you all here.  But really, if any of her checklist applies go ahead, pull the plug.  I am off to bed on that note myself.   

the other side of the clouds

 

It was a drippy British fall day and we had expressed our regrets to our visiting priest who had landed in our dove gray countryside.  "It's ok! I saw the English sun today," he said.   We asked him where else he had been since it had not so much as peeked through the cloud cover.  "I was on the other side of the clouds," he said.  If you've ever flown you may know that surreal experience of taking off in downpour and pushing through to blue skies and sunshine moments later. You quickly realize the sun is right where it always is.  It is pressure levels down close to the ground that are ever changing, occasionally building up. 

We talked later about this.  I shared my frustration with myself. How often have I let circumstances dictate my emotions?  How often have I felt fenced in by things I could not control?  How often have I forgotten what I have tell my children over and over – that the one thing we totally control is our response… and then did not control my response?  Allowed myself to be agitated, annoyed, discouraged. 

We talked about this.  And he reminded me of the flight and the clouds.  I was prepared for a metaphor about 'rising above' the yuck.  I was not as prepared for his frank words about the origin of the storm.  He was right however.  People sometimes say and do simply outrageous things.  Illness strikes with no rhyme nor reason it seems.  Blows come from unexpected corners.  But these things by themselves are not what keep us up at night.  They don't cause us to scowl or snap in frustration or retreat to a media zoneout.   We choose those things ourselves. 

The clouds in his metaphor were not the circumstances.  They were our responses. They were the inner turmoil, the churning, the irritability. The sun on the other side was the grace of God which was always there.  Constant. We do not find ourselves short on grace.  We find ourselves blocking the flow of the grace that was meant to pour over us.  

That is not to say that the people or things in question are not hard to bear. It doesn't make bad behavior from others ok.  It means however that our spiritual job is to work to break up those clouds and keep standing in the light no matter what tempest may blow around us. 

 

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I am resolving to start my day with that picture in my mind, to be a light chaser.  Here's to a grace-filled week. : ) 

on reading and weeping

 

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The theme of the week for a little photo challenge was 'book' which reminded me to write about one the most moving read aloud's we have shared together.  The Christmas before last Asher sent us an edition of Little Women, carefully reworked by U-Star Novels.  This company inserts personal names in place of your choice of characters from classic literature, leaving the rest of the text untouched.  (no compensation happening here fwiw! will add the disclaimer that some of their titles are racy)   Being a bookish boy, he leapt on this idea, and chose Little Women for his four little sisters and mother.  Hence the March sisters became Alannah, Moira, Therese and Abbie and their personalities and stories intertwined with our own throughout the long leisurely months we have lived with them. 

Originally we had not intended to read so slowly.  However, another international move came up.  Then Alannah went to work fulltime and couldn't bear for us to read without her.  As our evenings and weekends filled up with new activities there was less time with all seven at home at once and able to read together.  So we began to sneak in a chapter on our own while she was gone.  Then another.  Then we couldn't stop. ; ) 

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Now we are coming to the end of this story but these stories are part of us forever.  My quote book is full of thoughts we have mulled over.  Virtue versus vice, status versus family, industry versus idleness. How to be a real man as well as a noble woman. How best to find peace, both in oneself and in marriage and family.  It turns out that it was a blessing the reading spread out as long as it did. It became a curriculum of sorts, a life manual for us all. 

There has been a downside.  We saw it coming early on when one older child said WAIT!  Doesn't someone die?? And Asher, a bit regretfully, remembered yes.  We braced ourselves for that part, but as a mama reading the words aloud I still completely fell apart when the fateful chapter finally arrived.  It took two separate tissue breaks to get through it, devoted as we had become to the sisters and impossible as it was, by that time, to really completely separate our angel from theirs.  (fortunately our angel was a bit oblivious to 'her' demise ; ))

It may not work that way for everyone but, in our case, Louisa's views match my own so well that I could not have imparted these lessons better than Marmee did. It's been years since I have read or seen anything Louisa May Alcott and I am not eager to view a film version any time soon.  I just want to hang onto my own images and think longer on what we have read and talked about.  The the bittersweet aspect of 'living books' is the hangover of sorts left after the closing chapter, where you cannot conceive of cheating on the characters by loving another book.  Ever.  But of course there will be more.  They too will move us.  There are others vying for our hearts even as I type… 

For this, I am so very grateful.  

 

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sketched from life

 

There is no shortage of strategies for how to schedule your days, how to teach your children (the "right" way of course) and how to accomplish ever more.  These tend to be followed by strategies for combatting the inevitable burnout that results from impossible or imprudent endeavors.

I found this 'sketch from life' a most beautiful, peaceful day to emulate, a simple ideal to strive for. 

"Here sketched from life is Therese's day. Immediately she awoke, she made the morning offering, dressed promptly, and ran to M. Martin's arms. 

As soon as breakfast was over the room became her schoolroom. Her lessons were permeated with the supernatural,  from the alphabet illustrated with sacred pictures – the word HEAVEN was the first word the child learned to spell out – up to the connected reading preferably from the gospels and the French dictation and composition, varied by exercises of which the themes were family life and the glories of the Faith."

The Story of a Family

 

There you have it.  The original Eat, Pray, Love plan. : ) 

 

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"Be fanatically positive and militantly optimistic.  If something is not to your liking, change your liking." – Rick Steeves 

 

This bit of wisdom was typed in the preface of our guidebook for Lisbon and I offered up a "yes!" when I read it.  In a world where ranting is cultivated as an art form it is so incredibly wonderful to see this listed as the first bit of advice for the modern traveler.

Determine to be happy.  Determine to be open to all sorts of definitions of a successful journey.  Let go of as many preconceptions and requirements for happiness as possible so you can discover all the others right out there waiting for you.  

We are all travelers, whether we are crossing the ocean or crossing our own threshold.  And this is how we meet each day facing the light.  

 

 

 

 

magic days

 

Such days these two have. Busy from morning 'til bedtime. Whether they are trying to help set the table or racing their bikes or directing elaborate make-believe dialogs between their dolls the affection and joy just radiates from them. They never tire of each other, never cease to consider the other, rarely ever quarrel.  I have had enough children to know that this is not simply a consequence of being siblings.

It is a gift.

And so is this little window of time in their lives. Moira was just saying how she remembers exactly when it was that Alannah stopped wanting to play with the dolls.  How bewildered she was.  They are of an age where they are growing more similar again now, but there is that in between time.  A big girl gets bigger before her little shadow does.  It's bittersweet.  And it will happen again for a time.

Here's the wonderful secret though, she waits for you to catch up, baby girl.  And while you both grow I will have these pictures for you to remind you of these magic days. 

 

 

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A sister is a little bit of childhood that can never be lost.  ~Marion C. Garretty

At home in Aljustrel

 

 

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One of my favorite places in Portugal was the hamlet of Aljustrel.  It was home to the young seers of Fatima.  I loved walking through this sleepy village, loved steeping into these old stucco and stone buildings with spartan but still cozy rooms. I imagine life there, simple but not easy. 

 

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"Speak ill of no one and avoid the company of those who talk (bad) about their neighbours."
 
~Jacinta Marto of Fatima