4th spent celebrating lakeside at a small town in the foothills:

Kieran’s journal entry about same. He saw those primary lined journals we had for Aidan and insisted he needed one. I reminded him that he was in fact, six years old and maybe that much writing would tire him. But no. He loves it.

Colin turned 22. We celebrated with Duggar ice cream cake. (read: layers of ice cream sandwiches and whipped cream and chocolate sauce – frozen) Not recommended to do this more than once a year unless your heart is in very good shape ; )

Science Experiments with Straws and Paper we love New True books.

Alannah left her work in progress:

Kittens! Yes they are all black. Good thing I am not superstitious.

Dinner Friday night with dh to celebrate our 23rd anniversary. Love that man.

Pike’s Peak or Bust Rodeo yesterday for almost all of us. It was just “bust” for Tess and I. I had 24 hrs down with whatever Kieran had. So instead did a lot of this:

Hope your week was delightful!

…or Where My Blogging Time Went Today.

Woke up early, dressed, went downstairs with an actual bounce to my step. : ) Bounced right into puke. Actually it was sort of a puke trail leading from the family room into the school room to the very most remote bathroom in the house. After waking every animal and child in the house I found the culprit. Kieran has some vague memory of “not feeling well” in the night. He is singing at the top of his lungs in the other bathroom as I type so don’t fret much. He apparently feels MUCH better now.

Have I mentioned this came the night after the cat decided to give birth. In my closet? Don’t fret over that either. It’s cleaned up. So is the cat.

Me? Heading out to sanitize the floor, doors, air, you name it. If this never happens to you just disregard what I have written in the past few days!

I stumbled upon the Buried Treasure site when it was suggested by a Robinson Curriculum family. They have an impressive compilation of free book sites. The articles are WELL worth your while, especially this one. She reminds us that:

Every moment we spend on our computers is time we aren’t doing something else.

She also quotes Doug Wilson writing about poet Anne Bradstreet:

Anne’s poetry was written in hours snatched away from sleep. We may assume that her other literary pursuits, her studies which gave her grist for the mill, were conducted the same way. In other words, Ann was not reading and studying instead of caring for her family. She did not have her nose in a book when children needed to be fed and cared for.

On that note please hang on for the logistics post. It is drafted but the pics etc are not loaded and there is not time to finish today.

Our tiny wading pool has gotten a workout these past scorching hot days. We have talked about buying a larger pool but with an ever new supply of toddlers around here it makes me really nervous. The diminutive size of our pool hasn’t slowed the rest of them down any. In fact, they have such rip roaring fun that Tess decided she would do better with a little bitty bucket, cup and bowl off to the side.

I want to thank all of you for your sweet comments. I think I have lost perspective this time around. I have gained a lot more than with most of my pregnancies. We seem to have an over-achiever baby again growth wise. We have moved up the dates already like happened with several of them. Between the pregnancy and the funky health stuff that has gone down over the past year I have been frustrated with my body in general. It double crossed me. Your comments have helped me regain my morale. God bless you!

…this weekend. Haven’t taken a single picture this pg. Now I remember why lol! Ah well. I know I am going to miss this when it’s over so I will document regardless. Thank you God. Truly.

This is so beautiful and so appreciated today. I have long been suspicious of formulaic solutions to just about anything. Ironically I am just as fascinated by them. Maybe it is just a longing for it to be that simple. Because, you know I CAN work a formula, by golly. Give me a system and I will throw myself into working it. I am coming to realize though that it isn’t about working the formula, it is about surrender. Working is easier than surrender. Almost anything is easier than surrender. Nothing is more beautiful however.

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen.

–Reinhold Niebuhr

It has been a puzzling month in many ways, a month of contrasts. We have had some singularly wonderful things happen and some polar opposite of that. I have spent a lot of time driving back and forth to church, a route which takes us along many miles of wide open range where minutes pass without meeting another vehicle. Time stands still out there. Pronghorn lift their heads to watch pass. Tiny ground squirrels dart across the road tempting fate. Hawks swing low and soar again. Cattle graze. In other places new growth peeks its head through fire-scorched earth. More and more I find myself leaving the radio off and just taking it all in.

Often on these trips the children are fast asleep leaving me to my thoughts. Sometimes a child will awaken and will break the silence with ideas that only come in those moments when you are completely still and void of all distraction. I offer an occasional response, but mostly I listen, because really that seems to be what those kinds of words call for.

I have carried along many articles and books in recent weeks and fit reading into the stolen moments before appointments or waiting for children. As Lisa commented, it has been like a deep breath, a long drink of water in a world which tends to spin faster and faster if you let it. In the quiet all these ideas have had a chance to not just bounce around and compete with all the other words but to settle and take root. Despite the daunting pace there has been peace.

A couple of Marsha Johnson’s articles have made me pause, in particular her thoughts about speech. She writes about coming to an intersection and noticing that every other person had a cell phone pressed to a head. Talking, talking. She asks:

“…we talk and talk, more and more,
words flow like raindrops or snowflakes, a flurry flood of words, a
gush of utterances, a rushing tide of chattering sounds….but are we
saying more?”

It brings to mind the explosion of words in our world. There is not just one local paper to read but several, as well as national and international publications. There is not just one news program but countless. Yet are we truly more informed? There are websites, blogs, and “of the making of books there is no end”. There are cell phones ringing and texting. There are Ipods, car radios, and home theater systems yet do we have more meaningful relationships with artists and composers?

Some of those things have undoubtedly been a blessing. When my husband is far away I am grateful to be able to hear him say goodnight. I am blessed to be able to wish him a happy birthday when he is across the country. (Happy Birthday!! I love you!) Still, some days all that combined input is a barrage and it is a relief to sit and watch the sun rise over the prairie in absolute silence like I do many mornings.

Marsha encourages us think about our contribution to the clamor, to savor words rather than devour them. To share them deliberately as a gift, versus distributing them randomly and constantly; to distill our speech and to:

“make speech ‘count’, to be significant in our thoughts that we express to our children and each other.
Use your words like pearls…….we have a habit to chatter, chatter,chatter,
blather, blab, talk to death, run off at the mouth,
overspeak, fill up space and time with vocalizations!”

Being significant in our thoughts not only renders those thoughts more precious but it gives us a chance to really chew on ideas before sending them back out into the world. Silence gives us the opportunity to listen authentically.

She also suggests that we slow down when we speak. Allow room for children to really hear and to ask questions after due consideration. She advises us to discern the type of words we use and to vary them. Bring poetry into our homes, particularly for transition times such as clean up or readying to leave. Thus you can have a familiar, nonthreatening exchange versus a torrent of words which may be met with a shower of protest.

“Punctuate your days with blessings.”

Say a prayer upon waking, when you sit for meals, when you send your children off, when you tuck them in bed, when you clean the house you were blessed with. When we are busy the tendency is to speak faster, more harshly. Blessing doesn’t come as easily. We are prone to rattle off versus being deliberate. Intake is not much better. We gobble down information without the necessary time to really assimilate. Slowly down our own speech helps to combat that frenzy and make even abundant times meaningful versus dreadful.

So this has been the challenge – to be deliberate and discerning. What kinds of input do we really want or need? Which add meaning and blessing and which fill up our lives with tension? Are we taking the time to truly understand what we read and hear? Are we allowing silence so we can let those words grow in us? That all takes time. There is no way around that part. We can read faster, type faster, but we can’t contemplate any faster. You can’t force that. You must allow silence if you wish to live deliberately.

“Readers are plentiful, thinkers are rare.” Anthony Burgess

“Write to be understood, speak to be heard, read to grow…” Lawrence Clark Powell

“A sage thing is timely silence, and better than any speech.
“Silence at the proper season is wisdom, and better than any speech.” Plutarch

“My father gave me these hints on speech-making: “Be sincere… be brief… be seated.” James Roosevelt

“All speech, written or spoken, is a dead language, until it finds a willing and prepared hearer.” Robert Louis Stevenson

He who does not understand your silence will probably not understand your words. Elbert Hubbard

I didn’t fall off the face of the earth although the blogging tempo has slowed to a standstill. June is a full month for us typically. This June, in particular, has been very full – full of fun, of learning, of sharing with friends, of coming together with our faith community. We just finished our summer catechism camp and our beloved nuns’ visit. The children function very competently in a group setting Rest assured homeschooled children can and do raise their hands, stand in line, and follow directions quite appropriately when the need arises.

They had a week of waking to an alarm, dressing and commuting, and boxed lunches eaten on the lawn with friends. It was delightful. I am glad its over. I think they are as well. As much as we enjoyed ourselves the little ones are out of sorts from the excitement and fatigue. The house needs some attention and the children have spent the weekend evenings where we often find them in the summer. They were outside picking flowers and throwing the football and playing any number of impromptu games. Allen and I sat and watched and wound down from the pace of the previous weeks. We look forward to getting the babies back to their regular rhythm of playtime, worktimes and sleeptimes.

During busy times it is critical to pay extra attention to them and be as tuned in to their needs as possible. Hence the blog vacation. I haven’t had a moment to write and have not had a word to say. I think it is due to being extra focused on them. My head and heart are there. They have a much greater need to be heard and responded to when they are tired and out of their routine. Being both of those things myself means it takes more intention to do that for them. So that is where we are. I expect by week’s end to be back in the saddle again.