pamela – Page 93 – The Welcome Home

the progression of pots…

I’m smiling at how things change in life… and how, in a mind-boggling way, they really don’t change all that much at all. As I reached for a pot for making farina this morning, I smiled as I recalled how I delighted in putting the whole set of my new pots and pans in the draw beneath the stove. That was a long time ago. I delighted in that matching set, all neatly nestled in that drawer. But I didn’t get a pot from that drawer this morning. None of our pots fit in that drawer anymore. I got out the pot that I used to use to make large ~wink~ pots of soup for our little family. Those were the days I would buy Cream of Wheat in boxes at the grocery store and the boxes would last a week or two ― then later in “bulk” from Manna Mills when it was still called Natural Foods Warehouse in Mountlake Terrace. (I think the original name drew too many negative conclusions). The “granola types” shopped there and a myriad of other hippie, Birkenstock-wearing shoppers. I was teetering on the line of being one of them. My own Birkenstocks were the first dead giveaway. Well, then, the site sort of ran the gamut of being too “new-age” for me and I found another source (Azure Standard) for bulk foods. We rarely, but occasionally, stop in at Manna Mills for specific things. Especially when I miss “Azure day.”

Yesterday Wes came home with stuff from Manna Mills… as, regrettably, I’d missed the Azure ordering deadline this month. I could tell by the squeals of delight that there were not a few children delighted by the consequence of my lapse in memory. They don’t like the farina from Azure…it’s coarse. Really coarse. They like the soft white farina from Manna Mills… the kind we *always* used to eat. (Until we didn’t like hot cereal every day???)

So this morning I got out a pot (not from the drawer) and made a large amount of farina. Hooray! Hooray! was the sound of the breakfast crowd. Had I known it would be this easy, I would have asked Wes to stop there earlier—years earlier— for it has been *years* since we bought the soft, creamy farina. Everyone loved it… had seconds even. The grandchildren loved it too. (They had spent the night) It was unanimous! Never buy farina from Azure again. Unless, of course, they start carrying the soft white…

Another Homeschooling Year

The above cartoon is funny to me. Funny things always seem to contain a curious blend of truth, a stretch of that truth and a bit of fiction. Funny thing is, the fiction parallels the truth so closely that it’s hard to make a distinction sometimes. Well, so the above cartoon is funny to me. And if it weren’t so symbolic of different conversations had in our own van, I’d likely be smug and not laugh. But I am laughing bcz we have had those conversations… or similar ones. That’s another thing about “funny” things… you just can’t make that stuff up.

I think I might have said those things more frequently in the days when I was trying so desperately to do all the right stuff. Get up before the crack of dawn, dressed in my jumper, hair done (long, soft curls), family devotions (or what we used to call “wisdom searches”) and breakfast completed along with house top-to-bottom tidied before 9am. Those were the days of measuring up to some unspoken rules and high ideals (and there were too many to remember). Then came the long days of no TV, no worldly music, no movies, no… no… no… and then we had a crash of sorts.

We hit the wall of reality. And we began to ask: why are we doing what we’re doing, and is doing this accomplishing what we set out to do in the first place? No. No? Well then, let’s get down to doing what we set out to do in the first place!

To train up a child in the fear and admonition of the LORD. Not of men, the LORD. Period. Thus ended the regimented days and the longer list of no-no’s than yes-yes’s. Thus ended the days of measuring up to a standard of man’s design and the beginning of, or the return to, simply seeking the LORD and *His* ways.

Yes, get up and get going. Yes, gather at the table every morning… yes clean up top-to-bottom… yes, do your work well… yes… sing, play, have a wonderful day… yes, keep all the good stuff. But all the oppressive so-as-to-be-seen-by-men stuff? Good bye, stuff of the school-of-the-Pharisee. What are we here for? To love and serve the LORD. To know Him and testify of that love and salvation to others. To study well, to learn well, to accomplish all that we can for the sake of serving, pleasing and honouring the LORD. So, yes: read all you can, study all you can, learn all you can, excel at what you’re doing, and apply it. Have a reason for what’s studied and then study to achieve to that purpose. Know the why’s and learn the ways.

So whether a morning dictates an early rising or a later rising, whether a morning dictates top-to-bottom spic-n-span clean or just a thorough once-over after the family gathers… it’s all good. And about home education? Do it. Just keep stepping forward every day. And if a step ends in a trip, get up, dust off and keep stepping.

Special Thanks to Family Man Ministries for the laughs and the cartoon posted above.

stamps… and we are at war?

stamp

I received a mail from a friend of mine this morning…

when I see things like this, I’m nothing short of amazed.

All things considered

http://www.snopes.com/politics/religion/eidstamp.asp

or… are we at war?

A time to every purpose under the heaven…

I keep thinking… no, I *cannot* be in this season. As if any day now, things will get back to normal. I will revert back to normal coloured hair, I will have tight upper arms, and the skin of my neck will resemble the skin of my forearm once again. I keep thinking that any day now, I will pick up my Bible and see the words clearly… that I will once again shop for a pregnancy-test kit or shop for maternity clothes and nursing clothes. I keep thinking that any day now… I won’t be in this season. And then, I wake up and see that it’s too late… while I was looking the other way, one season faded and another dawned. I find it confusing.

And then I think on the Word. And I see.

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak…” Ecclesiastes 3.1-7

When I was younger, I waited and waited for the tomorrow’s. I waited and waited for better days, brighter horizons, bigger things, more excellent ways. I think I kept thinking that If I learned enough, worked hard enough, or tried hard enough, I’d get it all together and keep it all together. And then more time went by. And wishing for tomorrow, I missed a lot of yesterdays. That’s why I can so emphatically say today, there are no tomorrows. Only todays and yesterdays. No tomorrows. For when tomorrow comes―if tomorrow comes― then it’s today. Or yesterday.

So, the LORD is blessing me with a bit of melancholy understanding. A few times a year in the last several years I have thought I might be back in that sweet season of child-bearing. So much so, that sometimes I could almost see the eyes and feel the soft breath of a snuggling infant. I could almost smell that delicious, almost intoxicating, sweet fragrance of a newborn. And then reality would set in and I would realize over again that that season has been slowly passing from my view ―soon to become a precious memory and not a present reality.

The baby… the little dolly―the little gift of the LORD… has traveled a bit further down the path. No longer can I easily carry her from place to place or snuggle her to sleep in my arms at night. No longer does she need help with the necessities of life and no longer does she need training wheels on her little bicycle. The sweet consolation is that she still needs to be daddy’s baby… and I think he needs that too.

I know I do.

911 reminds us…

911 reminds us, each one, to say one or two three-word sentences:

I am sorry.
I love you.

911 reminds us that whatever we have today is all we have… There are no tomorrows, only today’s and yesterday’s and sorrow skips no home.

911 reminds us: “…we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.” (Ephesians 6.12)

Peggy Noonan has a great piece: I Just Called To Say I Love You.

911 reminds us to say: I love you. And, I am sorry.

The You-Know-You-Want-Me Clothes

I spent the day yesterday with the olders… the olders, meaning the four oldest at home (and that, thankfully, included Timothy). We sort of followed an oft taken course… Penney’s in town, the bank and Starbucks. Our little town really only has one viable clothing store and we’re thus forced to drive a tad bit to surrounding towns to do any significant shopping. I guess we still do get into enough shopping trouble locally, so, I suppose it’s a good thing the great stores require a bit of time. Time and planning.

My boys know there’s been some discussion of clothing (in the blogosphere and after our time at the Deer Lake Conference last weekend). So Samuel knew he’d hit a hot button by pulling out a black T-shirt with a inscribed message: You know you want me.

Instantly… the modesty “issue” flared and flashed before me and remains on my mind. It seems as if, to one degree or another, it’s always on my mind. I sometimes wonder if it’s because it’s been an oft discussed topic in our home and elsewhere throughout the years. Truly, I wonder if it’s because we have daughters or if, really, it’s because we have sons. Then I wonder if it’s not also bcz I and our daughters, by conviction, wear dresses (and not pants). Whatever the case, the matter of modesty and feminine dress (and I don’t use the term interchangeably) is, or ought to be, a matter of concern to believers.

I think seeing that shirt, having just been through the little girls’ department and seeing nothing but downsized-Hollywood clothing. I was grieved as I looked at the marketing being foisted on little girls and forced on mothers attempting to dress little girls. I was grieved bcz I have a little daughter whom I would never ever set as a sex object before men and yet were I to purchase and dress her in much of what I saw yesterday I would be doing just such a thing. Little girls… women dressed in the attire of harlots. There is clothing that is an abomination. Sadly, it’s everywhere.

I don’t expect “modesty” to be a matter of concern to those outside “the faith” bcz, let’s face it, truly they serve the gods of this world and do not have a walk with the Living LORD… so, how can modesty (or anything else, really) matter much? And while I’m all for “mainstream” retailers creating and marketing “modest clothes,” I don’t really expect they’ll do so on a large scale *unless* they see a huge market and I certainly don’t anticipate retailers’ versions of modest clothes to be genuinely modest. And until the “church” gets into the Word of God and out of the entertainment business, those who honestly seek modest clothing will represent such an insignificant fraction of the retail dollars, it won’t make fiscal sense to cater to the small sect. O, sure, there are retailers who market modest clothing — and we occasionally find them — but, generally speaking, it’s the handful of catalog stores that carry lines of modest clothing.

After our local jaunt, we headed to the thrift stores and Marshall’s. Timothy was anxious for me to find some new dresses or whatever I needed… he was treating. I looked… and looked and after pulling out a couple of dresses that were identical to ones I already have, I realized I didn’t really need anything. Later we headed over to Marshall’s (a store where one can find marvelous deals on men’s and baby’s clothing and housewares). After looking through racks and racks of immodest clothing, I told Timothy that, really, I just needed a bath mat. And a can opener.

In the back of my mind was the visual of that inscription: You know you want me… It seemed throughout the day I was seeing shoppers wearing (and buying more) clothing that stated that message: You know you want me (and I’m available). I felt sad as I watched and have, since then, thought of the girls in the different stores… already dressed in come-hither clothing, they were buying more of the same — perhaps intentionally stating the message and perhaps hoping for a response. Trouble is, once the girls become aware of some guy’s passion toward them they’re often angry and resentful of the attention they receive. That’s the remarkable part of women’s attire. It is so powerful… and sends such strong messages. Many women desperately crave the show-stopping attention and then abhor it and the feeling of being an object of lust when they receive it. They appear to be confused by the reactions they receive and seem oblivious of mixed signals they’re giving. But they’re not oblivious. Ignorant, but not oblivious.

I pray others will join in taking a stand for modest clothing. Next on my list will be modest *and* feminine clothing.

Another moon… another month gone by.

mug I’m smiling, thinking about our Timothy. Twelve hundred miles away, he’s seeing the same full moon tonight. And after four months away… tomorrow he’ll be home… for a few weeks. And then he’ll return to California for several weeks. It would seem that this would get easier. But it doesn’t.

I’m off to bake chocolate chip cookies. No nuts. And maybe we’ll set out some Nestle’s… and chips and salsa. Maybe horchatta, too. As with all homecoming’s… the rules of decorum sort of fly out the window and we’ll probably sit on the kitchen counter and just talk for a while. Sweet times.

Modest Clothing…

Many times in the past several years I’ve written articles or posts on the topic of modesty and/or modest dress. I’ve received letters of thanks and letters of condemnation. I think the letters of thanks are the ones I prefer, but I also appreciate the letters of disapproval, for it is in the reading and mulling over these letters that I gain understanding and can better articulate my convictions “the next time” the modesty issue comes up. I’ve talked about modesty to groups of women at retreats and to women in Bible studies and then through articles posted on our website. Most of the time, and I’m sorry it’s this way, women are sort of resigned to just going with the status quo or argue that modesty is “old-fashioned” or: da-ta-da-dahhh: legalistic! Ooooooo, legalism. The favourite catch-all term for anything someone doesn’t want to accept. And, it’s the favourite accusatory term with which to slap a sister who’s trying to make some seemingly radical changes in order to be obedient to Scripture. I mean, after all… you don’t want to be l-e-g-a-l-i-s-t-i-c do you? Funny thing is, those who are seeking to be modest in dress and speech are generally not doing so to draw attention to themselves—but on the contrary, they are seeking to *not* be drawing attention (and catch a lot of flack for it). I’ve found it interesting that the women get attention for not drawing attention and then smart for it.

Consider this… women are put down for dressing modestly or seeking to cover themselves and yet others are not put down for alluring or firing up someone else’s husband—in fact, if a women “looks like a million bucks” she’s thought to be cool, sexy, attractive and “with it!” And if a woman seeks to dress femininely and modestly, she’s often characterized as frumpy, dowdy, old fashioned, behind the times. It’s uncanny, really. By the way, I am talking about Christian women in Christian circles… you’d expect that from the world—but Bible reading, Bible believing followers of the LORD? Nope… you wouldn’t expect it, but such is the case.

So, Barbara just sent me a letter (she knows the best latest stuff) telling me of a site promoting modesty and so, in turn, I’d like to promote it as often as I can for the sake of encouragement as well as endorsement of a viable effort to encourage clothing manufacturers and retailers to offer clothing that doesn’t promote sexual promiscuity, that doesn’t destroy the unique design and distinction of little girls and women, and clothing which does not foster inappropriate thoughts and actions toward or about women.

Deuteronomy 22.5
“The woman shall not wear that which pertaineth to a man,
neither shall a man put on a woman’s garment:
for all that do so are abomination unto the LORD thy God”

II Timothy 2.9
“…that women adorn themselves in modest apparel…”

Mothers… wake up! Fathers… wake up! your daughters wearing thongs and low pants, lace lingerie hanging from skin tight tops tied above the waist is a display of torturous enticement and defrauding behaviour. Girls and women *do* have a responsibility for what their clothing says. Girls and women do have a responsibility to dress in a manner that does not encourage sexual advances or advertise that which they cannot honestly and rightly deliver. I know it’s not just clothing… there are many factors that must go along with modest clothing in the promotion of proper, well mannered and discreet behaviour. I know that it’s not incumbent on women to carry the whole weight of responsibility for sexual behaviour or the responses of men toward women. But truly… if girls and women dress in an “available” or enticing manner, or in a way that is sexually stimulating—they do bear the responsibility for the reactions that manner of dress provokes. There’s a book entitled, “Your Clothes Say it For You” and the title is as catchy as the content. What are your clothes saying? Ask your husband. Then ask him what they’re saying to other men.

More tomorrow or later… which ever comes first.

sig

About that oven…

cup So… remember that sparkling clean oven I had just a few nights ago? Well… it’s not any longer. As if to reenact the barbecue effect in the kitchen tonight, I dumped the contents of pecan pie bars on the oven floor. So, that’s why the oven is no longer sparkling clean. And why there’s a semi-melted plastic garbage sack full of burnt offerings out in the tall can.

Clean ovens: Vanity of vanities… all is vanity.

quote I have seen all the works that are done under the sun;
and, behold, all is vanity and vexation of spirit.”
Ecclesiastes 1.14

Wait when news is shocking

mug A couple of nights ago as some of the sisters in our fellowship gathered, we talked briefly about a sensational and shocking local news story that had just been broadcast that evening. It would have grabbed our attention had we not known the woman—but hearing her name on the news and in the conversation gripped us. And since we had met or talked to her by phone in the past, it was just too unfathomable to take in the story or to believe the allegations. Had we not talked with her in the past, had not shared many of the same ideals for family, children, and missions work, we would immediately believe the report—but this report is staggering: unbelievable.

Now, a woman ― a mother ― is in custody, charged with manslaughter and homicide by abuse of her adopted 8-year-old son. Kimberly Forder is a woman we believe loved her family and children and sought to serve the LORD in helping others and through missionary work in Liberia. So… in the face of unsubstantiated claims or until “proven guilty,” we must stop and wait on the LORD. I simply ask that others be remembering this woman—the whole family—in prayer as the facts and accusations surface or are substantiated.

The papers are reporting different statements or accusations made by the family’s oldest daughter and the additional information is from court reports and probably quite a bit of editorializing. I know this sort of article sparks fear in some homeschooling families. The article in the Seattle Times yesterday regarding this whole matter referenced the family on the night of the death of the little boy: “a group of quiet children dressed conservatively and lined up from tallest to shortest.” And that the family “home-schooled their children and fed them from food grown in their yard.” [This “group” was probably five children, by the way.]

So, I say to families… don’t let the enemy gain a foothold or grip you with gripping fear if you home-school, home-birth, eat home-grown food (horrors!), or have a group(!) of conservatively dressed children, if you “foster care” children, or if you’ve adopted children from Liberia or elsewhere. These are condescending ploys to label and are nothing more than attempts at character assassination.

They teach children to line up in *school* don’t they?

Be careful… pray. These things may come to pass to indeed be true, but until then and even after, the family needs prayer and support. If the allegations are true, this ugly nightmare must serve as a caution, a warning and wake up call to all parents―Christian, pagan, whatever―all children are a precious gift and *must* be treated as such.

quote Wait on the LORD: be of good courage,
and he shall strengthen thine heart:
wait, I say, on the LORD.

Psalm 27.14

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