Bear with me, because this story is beginning where all kooky tales start – in the middle.  There is a reason for this.  Our current journey would have been completely impossible any other way.  How else do I explain who this woman is signing my name, gazing back at me from my mirror, and yet doing totally unexpected things?  I could give you the punch line and many of you would never question it.  Those of you who know me better are going to recognize right away that I am not who I was. For you, and those like me, I going to tell you a little bit about what happens when God moves a mountain.  

The bible is full of one liners which we quote freely and rarely think about too deeply. I sat looking at the peak a while back thinking about just that.   The mountain is massive from any angle. It rises up from the dry prairie into the clouds and there is no missing it from miles and miles away.  Clinging to its base are clusters of houses and  small communities.  

The whole metaphor struck me that day.  If that mountain moved, a whole lot in the foothills would be disturbed.  So it is in life. When God moves a mountain it doesn't usually just vanish neatly one day.  It is messy around the edges where the roots lie exposed and foundations are shaken. Things you hadn't realized were connected are disrupted. There is a whole new horizon.  You no longer scale its craggy heights or journey all the way around through its canyons. You just move on through.  It takes time to accustom yourself to its absence and this new way of doing things. 

My mountain was fear and has been a landmark in my life as long as I can remember. Not a conscious choice, but embedded early on.  I had arranged a lot so as to work around it. I was convinced it was pretty well contained and off in the distance but the truth is that it was an imposing barrier blocking us from much opportunity, despite the fact that it was totally inconsistent with my larger view of life.  Then a number of things happened very quickly and the mountain started to quiver.  I found myself waking as a slightly different person each morning and it has taken us all some getting used to.  

Most people are familiar with Frank Gilbreth's Cheaper by the Dozen.  The glimpse into his family which has long stuck with me came from the sequel to that book, Belles on their Toes, which doesn't extend the story so much as fills it in.  His description of his mother after their father died made a big impression, and was oddly one of the things that came to my mind last fall when things began to change:

"There was a change in Mother after Dad died. A change in looks and a change in manners. . . .

While Dad lived, Mother was afraid of fast driving, of airplanes, of walking alone at night. When there was lighting, she went in a dark closet and held her ears …

Now, suddenly, she wasn’t afraid any more, because there was nothing to be afraid of. Now nothing could ever upset her because the thing that mattered most had been upset. None of us ever saw her weep again."

I thought of her often and how that transformation took place.  This was not a weak incompetent woman.  She was well-educated, accomplished, and strong enough to bear a dozen children naturally and raise them up admirably. Yet she was brought to her knees with terror nonetheless.  She always had my sincere empathy. 

When my grandmother died, some of my 'things that mattered most' were upset. Instead of falling apart, however, it became the first step to healing.  It feels too new some days to say 'never again' and perhaps that is part of my hesitation to proclaim over-boldly. I am still getting to know the me I am becoming and writing about this person feels awkward at times. But I like her.  I am proud of her. And I will get this all out as I am able to.  

"Behold….I make all things new."  Rev 21:5

That is what came to mind when I thought about how to break my blog fast.  It best sums up what is happening here.  We are ending lent by beginning an entirely new life which will very shortly look tremendously different from the one which has been shared here over the years.  The prospect has been exhilarating, challenging, and not a little bit terrifying depending on when you ask me. ; )  

In short, we are embarking on what may be our biggest adventure yet – so big I truly have been unable to bring myself to write about it all this time. God is doing a big work and life is taking a big turn.  If there is anyone left out there who cares to join us on this journey, strap yourself in now.  It's promises to be a wild ride lol! 

I hope your springtime is ushering in new hope and new challenges as well.  Praise be to the God of new beginnings.

1.

Started the day with husband arms wrapped around me and tiny girl curled up in my own.  It is going to be a very good day. 

2.

This study on the significant rise in myopia over the past thirty years was in the Parade section of the paper last Sunday.  Some suggest that:

  "Societal trends may be
playing a part. Far more children today grow up in front of computers
rather than on baseball fields; instead of tracking down balls hit from
afar or seeking out each other in sprawling city parks, they're
following the movements of a cursor only a foot or so from their eyes.
Such early activities, Vitale said, shape visual acuity."

You know what that means don't you?  Dr Raymond Moore and other 'better late than early' camps may just have it right after all.  It is a shame Dr Moore is not with us yet to see his theories proven correct. The rest of us ought to take note.  Backing away from the computer is not enough.  Time spent using our distance vision is more important.  

Short answer?  

Go outside. This is good. : )  

3.

"Photography is a foreign language everyone thinks he speaks," once commented Philip-Lorca diCorcia. If you are interested in becoming truly fluent these tutorials are a good place to start:

Kaboom

SmugMug help

Digital Photography School - sign up for the weekend challenge mailing!

4.

Thought about this verse this week:

"…to be sensible, pure, workers at home, kind, being subject to their own husbands, so that the word of God will not be dishonored."  Titus 2:5  

We tend to disregard verses that we have heard a thousand times but I think this bears a second look.  Do you have a question about curriculum? About home management? About childrearing? The answers are not here nor inside this screen anyplace. They are only to be found on your knees, in your home, with your family.  As one mom lamented, before she truly took this verse to heart she was constantly telling her kids "Just a minute" while she sat at the screen "looking into all the world" for the answers to her questions.  : / 

There is merit to the idea of letting information 'rest'. God knew what He was doing when He gave us all this work to do. It provides good respite from over-thinking and keeps us busy in our own homes with the work He gave to us, which is where our focus ought to be. The unexpected result of diverting our attention back to manual labor is that often when we return to the question at hand the answer is often very clear. If not, and we are blessed to have one, husbands have an uncanny knack for discerning the answers right quick. Other moms, no matter how seasoned,  have not been given the grace to make decisions for our family.  And vice versa.

And vice versa. 

Your way is probably the right way, as Anna of Pleasant View Schoolhouse says. At least this is what I have thought this week. 

5.

Birds of a feather, flock together, right below my kitchen window. Looked out the other day and there were dozens of um, whatever these are. Theresa? Macbeth?? One of you must know. I caught them just before they noticed me and took off all at once as a group. And look, you can't really tell how spotted up my window is either.  Cool. 

6.

A very funny video for you married types.  HT Joanna from FB ; )   I laughed hard.  Laughing is good. But you may have the chorus running through your head for days.  Its like that lol. 

7.

It is Valentine's Day Sunday. A very good day to review what love is.  Our friends and Aidan's Godparents Ann and Mike were teaching catechism class for second graders many years ago.  The director insisted they must create and post a set of classroom rules.  They were puzzled at first and then settled on a poster board with verses from 1 Corinthians 13 .  Ann related that after rereading this passage it pretty much covered anything that might arise.  Love is patient, therefore we can wait our turn – wait for the bathroom – wait.  Love does not boast, even when one does something much cooler than one's neighbor, nor is it jealous when tables are turned.  Love does not insist on its own way, even when that way seems exceptional. It does not delight in evil.  We do not relish seeing our neighbor fall. It keeps no record of wrongs.  Messed over?  It happens.  Let it go. Irritable?  Don't be. 

Yes, Ann and Mike were onto something.  I always said I was going to copy down the whole passage and use it as our primary character training tool – for myself first.  The older I get the more wisdom I see here.  For Valentine's Day the best gift I can think of is to really REALLY think hard on this definition of love and see how I am measuring up and what needs improvement. Heaven knows there is room for improvement. Heaven always knows. 

1 Corinthians 13:1-13

Huh.  I looked back through the archives and I don't think I have told this story. I would tell you to stop me if I have, but you sorta can't, can you?  It's a funny one.  In retrospect anyway, where things tend to be funnier. <g>  

In early 2002 I was expecting a very nice Valentine, my seventh baby – a boy.  We were living in Virginia in base housing and had been visiting the midwives at the base hospital preparing for his arrival. I was relieved to have access to a team of midwives since our previous birth, our first midwife attended birth, was so different from all the others. I knew what I wanted and what to expect.  By number seven you think you have things pretty well figured out.  (We will call this mistake number one. )

My general plan of attack for laboring was to soak in the tub during early stages then head over to the hospital when it started getting unpleasant.  Rule of thumb was to transport while I could still walk and talk.  At least mostly.  

A little background here.  I have a lot of contractions while pregnant.  That sentence alone does not do justice to the situation. Phenomenal number of contractions – frequent, sometimes quite rhythmic,  and often painful.  They have to be exceptionally all of those things in order for us to sit up and take notice.  Therefore when I woke up at 1am on Feb. 7th with a whopper I didn't think too much about it.  When I had another on my way to the bathroom I didn't think a lot about it.   When I had another on the way to the kitchen to start brewing raspberry tea to make things more comfortable I was not registering that this could possibly be labor.  Real labor does not start with contractions three minutes apart.  People KNOW these things.  It was Braxton Hicks and goll darn it they hurt.  Make some tea. That was the plan. 

I made the tea noting how fast the contractions were coming but still not completely sure this was 'it'.  After all we had a false alarm the week before that wound down eventually.  I was pretty sure this would too.  However at 2am I was starting to wonder – and worry.  If this WAS real labor it was not resembling any recent births and I was already really uncomfortable.  I decided to wake Allen up for moral support.  

We decided to try the tub for a bit and see if that slowed things down.  You would have to have seen this tub to appreciate what was necessary to make that happen.  The vintage 60's tub had an overflow drain no more than a handful of inches from tub bottom.  You know your husband loves you when he is duct taping overflow drains at 2am.  So fine, tub was taped up and I slipped in.  (we will call this mistake number two)

Allen was off to pack bags.  Guess that would be mistake number three.  I am not sure when exactly I had been planning to pack that bag.  But, since I had not and it was looking like we were gonna need it, he packed.  While he was packing I was clinging to the bottom of the shallow tub, my neck crinked into an impossible position.  It was there that I recognized that telltale sign.  No denying it.  My water broke.  That was bad.  Way bad.  My labors have all taken variable amounts of time from beginning to that point, however none of them had gone more than 45 minutes AFTER that event.  At that moment, the clock starting ticking.  I knew this.  I knew I had to get out and move quickly.

Moving quickly is not something a waterlogged pregnant women does especially well.  They say you are virtually weightless in the water but I don't think that applies to pregnant women. In pregnancy the water has a nearly magnetic pull which defies all normal laws of gravity.  Then there were the contractions.  I stood up and had a contraction.  Grabbed a towel and had a contraction.  And so it went.  Which is why it took me some time to get back to the bedroom where I met a dumbfounded husband.  "I thought you were soaking in the tub?"   I broke the news to him after which he could only say, "PLEASE get dressed!"  Looking a bit nauseous himself he grabbed the bag and began to warm up his small truck.  I worked on dressing, which was a lot easier said than done. 

He returned and announced cheerfully that the truck was started! That was very reassuring to the man. It meant I would soon be in it and on my way.  On my way out of the house and into the hospital.  He still looked fairly certain it could be done.  

I waddled out to the driveway where he ushered me to the truck door.  Almost there.  I could see the promise of relief coming to his face.  It was riiiight there.  Home stretch. Until I sized up the truck angles and compared them to my own and told him no can do.  Undaunted he said, "No problem!  I get that!  We can take the Suburban. There is MUCH more room in there!"  I stood and worked on breathing while he shuffled around the vehicles in the single car driveway.  He reappeared by the door, opened it, and waited expectantly for me to embark.  I considered that option.  I really did.  At that moment, it no longer seemed possible.  Not even a little bit.  Poor guy.  His face fell.  "What do you mean you can't get in the car? SURE you can get in the car! You get in the car all the time."  True that.  But not this night.  What exactly did I have in mind he asked?  I didn't.  Clear thought was completely escaping me.  He wondered should he call an ambulance?  Noooo I said.  I just needed a minute to sit down.  In my room.  I would be right back.  

He knew. He called.  Now we had logged a lot of hours of Rescue 911 episodes in the nineties. We knew exactly what happens.  A nice dispatcher answers, they open their flip chart and tell you exactly what to do while the paramedics speed through town to save the day.  I mean EVERYONE knows this right?  So he called. He called and got……. put on hold.  Hello?? Was he seriously on hold?  Yes.  Never mind the fire station was two blocks away.  No, it would be better to send the county crew over.  So hold please.  

Meanwhile I had wandered back to our room. I was truly on autopilot by then.  It became suddenly really clear that the reason I could not sit was that there was a baby being born.  That minute.  I yelled for Allen who threw the phone-on-hold to teenaged son and came in time to catch the baby.  We looked at each other stunned.  It was 3am.  Two hours after I woke up uncomfortable. We had a baby.  He cried, he sucked his thumb. He was beautiful.  Paramedics were still figuring out what to do on their end. 

Fifteen minutes after the birth the county crew arrived.  Not a one of them had ever had a baby much less delivered one. They were visibly relieved it was already over and wrapped us both up to show the baby to the children now awake and puzzled. We transferred to the hospital. 

A few days later the base newspaper sent a reporter and put our story on the front page.  That would be our five minutes of fame. : )   Kieran has been a delight since day one.  Still full of surprises too. 

Whenever I think I have things all figured out I remember this night.  We make plans and God laughs. 

That was then:

Poor Allen still looks stunned in that picture.   And I look…. fully dressed.  What a night. 

And this is now:

Hope you had a Happy Birthday, dear boy! (And yes, his mother should have noticed her clippers missed those stray hairs. Ah well.  He is still darn cute.) 

We all have them.  Moments which find us at less than our finest. Pent up frustration demands release. All too often it is found through hurtful words, uttered too quickly, too loudly, to harshly.  I know this.  I regret this.  So I stand in the kitchen, broom poised for action in one hand, directing clean-up and feeling that tension.  I am determined not to vent it here in front of many sets of eyes learning how to be family.  Barbara Patterson counsels wisely:

  " Everything we do in the presence of the child goes in deeply." 

Then I remember to sing.  Singing is praying twice and we could use twice as many prayers this day.  I remember the Waldorf and Montessori transition verses and how melody eases us back into form, calls us down from the frantic pitch that threatens to overtake us.  And so it does.  

"Do you know the song I learned in children's choir?" asks Kieran

"No, but you could sing it for us and then we will know," I say.

He sings.  I smile.  

"Do you know this hymn?" I ask one and all.  They don't.  So I sing, poorly but sincerely.  I feel my heart settling into a steadier rhythm.  The floor clears.  My head clears.  

I wish I had remembered earlier.  I wish I had checked those words that came too soon, too raw to one I love, much older but no less dear, and no less in need of loving kindness from me.  Next time…  Thank you God for next times. Forgive me for presuming there will always be more.  Next time I hope to remember sooner.  

For now, we sing.  

"…singing and making melody with your heart to the Lord;  always giving thanks for all things…." Eph 5: 19-20  

Outside my window… pitch black. It is 5:40am as I begin to type. Oh yawn. Going to be warm and sunny all week should I be awake enough to notice. ; ) 

I am hearing… older sons preparing to take off. Machinery in back room.  Today would be a very good day for at least one contractor to finish. Yes? Let's hope. Hope with me. 

 I am thinking… about spectrums and malleability since reading Simplicity Parenting. He says q+s=d or something like that.   Premise being that given constant, unrelenting stress kids slide from personal quirkiness along the spectrum into disorders.  However, and this was the revelation, that by simplifying and removing or resolving one stressor after another that slide can and does go the other way.  I think I have actually seen that happen and it stunned me considering popular thought is that the brain is fixed and therefore either works just right or doesn't.  He insists that is not so. I believe him.  

I am thankful for… growth – bumpy as the road that leads there can be. 

I am wearing…  missing husband's big robe. Wish it was filled with him instead.  

I am reading… Making Children's Clothes This was the last of my recent Amazon purchases and WOW.  I saw it last fall at Hobby Lobby while waiting for the girls in class. I regretted leaving it there that night and ordered a copy.  Perfect. It is like the best of all those online tutorials bound into one book with nice sturdy paper patterns included. Very, very simple constructions made oh so cute with pretty fabric. All you need for an entire wardrobe for 1-5yr olds. (more girl than boy options)

From the learning rooms… oh, the singing! <g> And lots of rounds of The Three Bears. Waldorf and Five in a Row folks were right on this one.  Brendan and Tess preferred to hear this one many times last week rather than opt for new stories. His rendition at dinner was unforgettable. He truly knows this story on a deep and personal level. I can tell you we have not made a single 3 Bear craft, nor done any 3 Bear activities, made not a single 3 Bear food, nor any other thing but read together. It's enough. I promise. 

The printer has been sputtering and finally died.  This prompted our new notebooking approach this winter which has been unbelievably successful. We are using composition books into which the bigs transcribe the day's assignments. They proceed to complete them all on the following pages.  The next day we do it all again. That way there is one notebook for all the subjects and we can check their daily work quickly and easily. Aidan and Moira do have separate notebooks for history which is their subject for illustrating and writing more in depth this yr.  Per Laura Berquist we don't attempt to do that for multiple subjects.  

I am creating…. I wish I was creating tiny dresses from the book! Instead I dream about fabric projects while I am creating space and order which should open opportunities to do more creatively in time. In little snippets am mastering photographic textures.  Feels good to learn. 

Pondering these words.. "I am going to bed and when I wake up I am going to have soooo much fun!" – Tess last night. We should all be so certain of the new day's possibilities. 

From the kitchen…  aforementioned cupcakes  Wonderful feather-light Depression era flourless cake sitting in my kitchen this morning. Will be back with recipe.  

Around the house…  "Contractors and closet purging and painting oh my…Contractors and closet purging and painting oh my…."  I know this song by heart now. 

One of my favorite things…  baby girl's new word this last week – "Uh Oh" – heard when noticing things on the floor. Heard often, lol. 

From my picture journal…

see more daybooks at Peggy's

Outside my window… sunny and cold. Very both. 

I am hearing… deep sigh of dog crumpling back into a sleepy heap by the couch. He is recovering from the earlier ruckus which ensued after we heard a pack of coyotes venturing rather close in. 

 I am thinking… about transformation – of houses, of people, of little things and big. I am thinking that it is generally messy. 

I am thankful for… a surprise call Friday night beckoning me to the mall where I found a handsome man waiting at a table with two steamy Starbucks cups and an evening all planned out. 

I am wearing…  Nubby, tan, cable knit, hooded sweater, boot cut jeans, brown clogs, silver drop earrings.  It is cold and I would like not to be. 

I am reading… Beyond The Rainbow Bridge  Purchased my own copy finally and finished it in a couple sittings. Devoured it. I loved every word. Nothing terribly new here after 23 yrs of mothering and homeschooling but it has a meditative quality that lends itself to early morning consideration.  A very good way to focus and resolve as the day begins. 

From the learning rooms… notebook pages (will post to the sidebars this week), read alouds, circle time songs. A game of grocery store late last week which has Brendan asking for more.  

I am creating…. space, time, and what may be a whole new future. Still. This one will remain for a time. This weekend I pressed and put out some lovely white lace pillow shams snagged at Rebecca's thrift shop last year.  Fifty cents a piece! 

Pondering these words.. "The growing and developing in the child listens to the growing and developing in the teacher. Therefore, just as much as the teacher works on himself, so much can he work on his pupils. Education and self education are one and the same….I can give to the children to the same degree that I work on myself." – Erich Gabert

which is echoed here. Be what you want them to be.

From the kitchen…  simple food made with little hands. This morning there is hot oatmeal that was soaked before bed last night. Melted brown sugar swimming in whole milk on top. It's the little things. : ) Makes them happy, makes me happy. 

Around the house…  new pipes and new toilet hardware on deck for this week. Not diggin' the remodeling. Can we go back to the pillow shams, please? 

One o
f my favorite things…  Yankee Candle tarts – Vanilla Cupcake and Pineapple Cilantro happening this week. 

From my picture journal…

see more daybooks at Peggy's