Category: More Slices of Life

So, I’m sitting here writing a post on Motherhood and a letter pops up in my inbox and I read it and respond… it’s a letter regarding being a keeper at home and the writer asks if its okay or appropriate for a woman to leave her home according to Titus2 in order to teach in a school… as her pastor said, she is bringing her home with her… and on it went… and so I replied. Just going along… sweetly thinking. That’s how most all my days go.
Then while I replied to a few more letters and another letter popped in; this time the letter was informing me of a man in our local area, here in Snohomish County, who is a pedophile and that letter included a link to a site exposing him and his actions. So, I clicked. On that site, you can read about the man and even see a video of a FoxNews report. It’s incredible. FoxNews also ran the story here.

The man is free to roam about, for he has done nothing to break the law. The police know about him… local officials know about him. He has a website that offers instruction and encouragement to others who are obsessed with the things he’s obsessed with. But… still… he’s done nothing “wrong.” A predator must commit an act in order to be arrested. So they watch and they wait.

I bristle at this….. it makes me angry – angry and afraid. And beleive me, I do not spend my days in fear. I don’t really know what the man looks like… but I know the face of another pedophile and it’s likely that many women who read this blog know the faces of other pedophiles. We have in common that we are adult survivors of childhoodsexualabuse. So when a story like this comes up, I feel angry all over again and past decisions to be done with lessor things, to be done with harm from CSA, to be done with fear of the abuser, sort of all fade away and the CSA is fresh all over again.
Then I look at our little daughters and I think of the potential for harm to them and I grieve – I grieve for the potential harm that could come to them… I pray to protect their purity and their innocence that no one would would rob them of both. In this sin-sick world, they will face trials —- I pray for God’s continued protection from those who would seek to harm them, seek to use them for personal satisfaction… selfish men with vile intentions, trapped by their own addictions given over to reprobate minds.

Even so, come Lord Jesus.

So I had my second night’s rest with my new inflexible friend: night-guard. Now, this little night-guard is a clear piece of plastic that is exactly fitted to my upper teeth. This little piece of plastic is to be faithfully worn at night to prevent bruxism (see Wiki’s) or teeth-grinding.

Now, I didn’t know that I had this problem… but as with most things in life, if you go in to see a doctor for any reason, you can almost assuredly come out with more problems than what you originally went into that doc’s office for. And if you have mouth pain, and /or facial or jaw pain, headaches and lots of dental problems, chances are: you clench or grind your teeth. And if you haven’t seen a dentist in awhile, well… take a tip: Go! So, I guess, I grind or clench my teeth and that’s the reason for all the other goodies I have in my mouth – O, along with my trusty little inflexible friend. Now, this little night guard is so insignificant that if I am not careful, it could easily be assimilated into the toy bin and would be lost forever – that, or it could easily be mistaken for dry chewed gum – well, lots of dry chewed gum shaped into a “U” sitting on the counter.I was standing in the kitchen this morning… heating water for my cup of morning tea and I was looking at the stove, inflexible friend in my mouth, and I marveled that my little friend cost more than my stove. It cost more than my mixer and its attachments. It cost more than my computer monitor, more than the Bosch, more than an iPod, and more than three full tanks of gas for the van and… perhaps about what a Seiko watch might cost.

So I decided that the best thing I could do (in addition to ALWAYS keeping the little friend in its case when I’m not wearing it!) is to gently guide one of the children into the dental biz. Now, I know some people think it’s best to allow a child to grow and fulfill the natural gifts and abilities, but I have suddenly become an advocate for steering a child into a particular area or field of study – sort of nurturing an interest.

Now, I am sort of tongue in cheek about all these comments — bcz I don’t really want to push our children into a particular area of study or vocation unless that’s what the LORD is doing and has created them to do. I know He creates each one with special talents and abilities and with nurturing, care and training, they will most assuredly glorify Him in whatever they do as they are led by Him. So… my comment that our sons could be dental techs… well, that’s just one of many things that would be beneficial – but nothing outside the will of the LORD would be worth a moment’s effort, comfort or anything else. I pray they, each one, will be led of the LORD to do whatever He’s created them to do… and not be tempted by the pretty lures of the world… lures for things that would draw them away from serving the Living Lord.

For a day in thy courts is better than a thousand.
I had rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God,
than to dwell in the tents of wickedness.”
psalm 84.10

So, I was reading mails that came through this afternoon…. more help for dysfunctions, more pharmaceuticals and diet aids and of course, today’s hurry-make-your-voice-vote-opinion-yada-yada-yada known! Hurry… the country’s going to hellinahandbasket if you don’t do something fast.  A mouse click and your voice could save this nation.

So, today’s AFA report was in regard to Ford Motor Co’s support of the pflag national convention—sort of a pflag victory bcz in December, Ford Co had begun to respond to pressure from so-called, pro-family groups’ intended boycott of Ford products. But now, as could have been predicted, The Ford Co retracted the appeasement to family groups and will support the pflag group.

Dialectic praxis and yet another reason to stay the course and homeschool the children.
Earlier I wrote about school phobia or the perception of the NEA that those who oppose government school education are schoolphobic (my botched word) or somehow have “school phobia.” This sort of dialect is part and partner with other phobia labels… homophobic, notably. There’s a quote on the (unlinked on purpose) pflag site that says: “You can’t hate someone whose story you know.”

So, I’ve been mulling that over and over… “you can’t hate someone whose story you know.” (emphasis mine)  That’s dialectic praxis.  If I tell you that over and over, you will eventually accept and believe it and you will support me (and my story).  And you’re going to meet someone who is just like me and they will defend me too and you will have to support them, too.

Never mind the *truth* and never mind that it’s not the person you love or hate, it is the moral behaviour that is either right or wrong – moral or sinful.  But they won’t tell you that.

It goes more like this:
I am going to tell you my story and therefore, you cannot hate me… bcz you know my story.  You only hate me bcz you don’t know my story [not because you know the Truth] … for if you knew my story, you wouldn’t couldn’t hate me.  So, I will start telling this to your first grader and then your fourth grader and your eighth grader and your eleventh grader and all the while I will remind them [because they’ve heard my story and therefore cannot hate me] that there are no moral absolutes – only narrow minded, fundamental evangelicals will tell you that and so I will tell you that they are wrong for being narrow minded and phobic about my story.  Remember, you like me because you know my story.

When the moral absolutes of the Bible are not taught, reinforced and lived out, then children are left to the whims of an immoral society to define their social and spiritual norms.  And, when the church cannot decide whether to  not be of the world but in it or whether to be of the world but not in it, children are left to the changing winds of society to define for them right and wrong -or- that there are no rights and no wrongs… (except moral absolutes).

These days we’re hanging around in Romans, chapter one.  We’ve read it each day this week.  And so I am (along with the grievous news of the day) mulling over:

For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ: for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth; to the Jew first, and also to the Greek.  For therein is the righteousness of God revealed from faith to faith: as it is written, The just shall live by faith. For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who hold the truth in unrighteousness;  Because that which may be known of God is manifest in them; for God hath shewed it unto them.  For the invisible things of Him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even His eternal power and Godhead; so that they are without excuse:  Because that, when they knew God, they glorified Him not as God, neither were thankful; but became vain in their imaginations, and their foolish heart was darkened.  Professing themselves to be wise, they became fools,  And changed the glory of the uncorruptible God into an image made like to corruptible man, and to birds, and fourfooted beasts, and creeping things. Wherefore God also gave them up to uncleanness through the lusts of their own hearts, to dishonour their own bodies between themselves:”
Romans 1.16-24

The Word of God is powerful and wonderful and meets us right where we’re at!

For the word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any twoedged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart.
Hebrews 4.12

I had to come inside from doing yardwork. I’m pretty sure I might have died otherwise. I have aches in places I didn’t know I had muscles or in places I didn’t have muscles. I love to garden but bcz of having surgery last spring, I didn’t do any gardening last year. So… this year I am endeavoring to make up for lost time. I’m pretty sure I will make it…. but in case you don’t see an entry here for awhile, it will be bcz when I go to sleep tonight I may not be able to rise from my bed in the morning. Gardening, like parenting is not a sprint… it truly is a marathon… and I shouldn’t have been away from it so long!

So, I have this large cup of tea and have taken some time aside for some web dabbling. Periodically I take a couple of hours to browse blogs that are dear to me and blogs of those who have visited here. It’s always encouraging to read all the wonderful things families are doing together, memories they’re making and strides they’re taking to train up children in the Way of the Lord. I even watched a few very silly youtube videos by homeschooled boys. Those links originally started with a Cindy Rushton endorsed link: http://www.youtube.com/v/ydE9pEN2FsU for a homeschool conference -online!-

Then I looked through Technorati – Technorati Profile and a few other links. I decided, once again, to not allow myself the luxury tickling itching ears time to read the lengthy letters and blog entries regarding the battles going on between prominent family/homeschool leaders and families. I will just say that when there is a problem, what’s made known is usually only half of half the story. And that quarter is probably distorted a bit by emotion and misunderstanding and, in the end, probably both parties or, in this case many of the parties, are likely going to regret some of the upheaval. We all usually do.

We all usually regret, when a season or two has washed under the bridge, whatever we’ve said in pride and hurt feelings. And, as most scandals go… like house fires, after the spraying’s done and the rubble is sifted, the source of the fire and the cause of the fire is generally determined. Usually, though, when all that’s determined, the bystanders are still standing there saying, so what! that house burned down… that’s the problem!

So, when the fire is reduced to embers and then smoldering ashes, there may well be some leveled “houses” and perhaps some casualties. Sad… bcz the enemy dances when believers war against one another and all the dirty laundry is aired in the middle of town.

P.S.: The “homeschoolers” youtube.com videos were generally silly—and this is not an endorsement of them or anything else that may be on youtube.com. Just sos ya know.

It seems that there is no good news these days… the decaying world demonstrates its bent to destruction and we see evidence of this throughout society. O, it’s not just the horrendous murders, the senseless killings, the hostile reactions to the decision to legally protect innocent unborn babies… and it’s not specifically the actions of any one person or group. It’s the pervasive rebellion to a just and holy God who is our Creator and Sovereign LORD.

As I read in the news and some blogs, I find I’m saddened at the insensitivity to spiritual things — or, rather, I should say: Christian things. I suppose it is the preoccupation to spiritual things that has led to all this demise… for the spirit world certainly is real and certainly grips the hearts of men and women all over the world. No… it’s not so much that I am questioning the reality of the dark world [“For 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] — I’m not specifically so burdened with all that as I am with the apathy and complacency of believers —people who *know* the Truth and yet live as though they never heard – women who know the Word yet seek to live and behave otherwise. Where is the passion for Jesus? Where is joy in and for Him — just for who He is and what He’s done.
I’ve decided to not comment on the stuff in the news… nationally or locally… the murders in Virginia and the atrocities in our local and state government as we continue to see the demise of the family and business. Nor would it serve any valuable purpose to comment on all the rantings that go on in the so-called: “blogosphere.” More than ever I’m seeing that people can refuse to see things they don’t want to see or manufacture ones they want to see. It’s all sort of cyclical, though, and so I guess I sit back and say: this, too, shall pass.

My hint for the day: go be a blessing to someone. Sensational stories probably are just that: sin-sational.

I smile as I think of a bad day… really. I know… nuts. I smile as I think of memories riding along with Kathryn in her car; a zip in to Starbuck$… and the music playing… and there’s a song that always makes me smile and sing. Loudly. With her. Really loud.

Daniel Powter
Bad Day

Where is the moment we needed the most
You kick up the leaves and the magic is lost
They tell me your blue skies fade to gray
They tell me your passion’s gone away
And I don’t need no carryin’ on

You stand in the line just to hit a new low
You’re faking a smile with the coffee you go
You tell me your life’s been way off line
You’re falling to pieces every time
And I don’t need no carryin’ on

Because you had a bad day
You’re taking one down
You sing a sad song just to turn it around
You say you don’t know
You tell me don’t lie
You work at a smile and you go for a ride
You had a bad day
The camera don’t lie
You’re coming back down and you really don’t mind
You had a bad day
You had a bad day

Will you need a blue sky holiday?
The point is they laugh at what you say
And I don’t need no carryin’ on

You had a bad day
You’re taking one down
You sing a sad song just to turn it around
You say you don’t know
You tell me don’t lie
You work at a smile and you go for a ride
You had a bad day
The camera don’t lie
You’re coming back down and you really don’t mind
You had a bad day

(Oooh.. a holiday..)

Sometimes the system goes on the blink
And the whole thing turns out wrong
You might not make it back and you know
That you could be well oh that strong
And I’m not wrong

(yeah…)

So where is the passion when you need it the most
Oh you and I
You kick up the leaves and the magic is lost

Cause you had a bad day
You’re taking one down
You sing a sad song just to turn it around
You say you don’t know
You tell me don’t lie
You work at a smile and you go for a ride
You had a bad day
You’ve seen what you like
And how does it feel for one more time
You had a bad day
You had a bad day

And then I miss Kathryn more. (and by the way… I’m really not sad as this whole post sounds—it’s just a reflection of the day… that’s all)
Gotta go… can you hear me? I’m singing at the top of my lungs… I found “Bad day” on someone’s playlist ;o) on my computer here. Yippee………………………………. a blue sky holiday!

to stay ahead of boys. And even a semi conscious state of prayer blesses a mom and gives practical wisdom. I have to stop and thank the LORD often for His intercession on my behalf. I suppose I’d lose my mind, otherwise—that, or I’d sure lose a lot of ground each day.

It was out on the counter… I know, probably beckoning the boys to go by and take a piece or two. And, you know, it wouldn’t have been so noticeable had a knife not been utilized in the removal of bit of the ham. I’d probably hardly take notice of a couple of bits of ham missing. But the knife… that was blatant. So I told the few gathered around me that there are just some lessons in life that need to be learned—not to just hear, but to hear and heed!

So, I had to use some “boy examples” to get my point across—and mom’s have to talk quick, keep rapt attention and be relevant. Well… I remembered that after I gave a couple of girl examples—one being, the example of having six hard-boiled eggs in a pan and an egg plate that will hold 12 deviled eggs. If a boy comes in and eats just one of the boiled eggs, the egg dish will not be complete. So I told them that when things are on the counter, you can just look at them… no touching. Like—don’t touch the eggs or when there’s a ham on the counter and you see it is sitting next to the soup kettle on the stove, don’t touch it—it’s got a use. Well, I saw that I was met with sort of glazed eyes and I could sort of see there might be a response coming… “And so, would you have to boil more?” I nodded and squinted a bit and said, “yes, yes you would.”

Okay… it was time to utilize man sort of logic… so I told them, it’s sort of like hood ornaments on big guys’ trucks. You just don’t touch em. They are not even to be used, in reality. They’re just to look at—it’s something everyone knows: you just don’t touch them. If you’re building a picket fence and you need one hundred pickets, if I just come by and take a couple for some woodstove kindling, that will totally wreck finished appearance of the fence you’re attempting to complete. If you go to someone’s home, do you just go in and start eating their foods? If you’re making a pan of brownies, and I just come a take away the egg (and you don’t have anymore) then you cannot make the brownies.

“Oooo, that’d be so terrible.”

Seeing that I was getting somewhere, I noticed a sparkle in the eyes of one of the boys. And then he gave me an example he’d heard. He told me that guys have to learn when they get married that there are two kinds of towels in the bathroom. Some you use and some you never use. You gotta get that straight: the ones you never use.

I nodded. And I said, “Okay, then keep it straight: there’s some stuff you just don’t touch. Ever. And if you can, I’ll let you know.” That boy said, ” Or my wife will.”

I said, “Right… but get it straight before that happens. And… leave the rest of the ham alone… it’s for the soup for dinner.”

Elation in the kitchen… it’s hailing outside!

…have a garage sale again.  You know how I often say: write stuff down, for you will surely forget it?  Well, this day reminds me to write stuff down, lest I forget and fall into temptation.  So, the temptation was before me: should we have a garage sale or not?  So… I was thinking this morning: O, what was I thinking?  And then we had a couple of people come by and look at the things.

“What will you take for these?”
“Two dollars”
“O, that’s too much.”
“What?  I paid 40 x’s that much for those.”  (O, btw, that’s what I was thinking!)
Then I say… “Okay… one (1) dollar.”
“O, okay… I guess I could pay that much.”
“Riiiiiiigggghhhttt.”  (O, sorry… I  thought  that one, too)
And sweetly smiled and thanked the man profusely for coming by and parting with *ON*E* dollar.

“How much for the gate?
“Five dollars.”
“O, that’s too much.  I wanted wood.”
I’m smarter now… “O, I see. Sorry, we couldn’t help you there.”
“We need it for the dog.”
“Hmmm…” (I say, smiling)
“O, well…. I guess we’ll have to… keep looking…”
“Okaaaaay.  Sorry, Eeyore.  Have a nice day!”
(O, c’mon, I’m just kidding —I don’t know if the man’s name was Eeyore or not.  I *did* smile and tell them, Have a nice day!)
Here we have all this gloriously valuable stuff (well, maybe some of it is really junque) and we also have a rainy nice spot to set it out and, we do, after all, have all the traffic in the county driving by, so… how about a garage sale?  That was two days ago.

Today we’ve tarped and untarped, tarped and untarped… the showroom area. ~wink~  And people have stopped by and have parted with hard earned dollars quarters.   And the children have had opportunity to demonstrate sweet manners and self control (to not make comments about this or that “customer” and how much we originally thought we ask for this or that item) and to help keep things neat and orderly.  They’ve seen free enterprise at work—read: free.

So, I’m inside taking a break, reading mail, drinking a cup of Earl Grey Tea and eating a Zone bar… and decided to blog this day… so that perhaps someone can remind me, in case I forget… that I don’t ever want to ever have another garage sale ever again. Ever.  And I hope there isn’t a next time that I… blog on this.

Well, gotta go… it’s my turn to man the can of quarters cash box and greet the shoppers.   The greeting the shoppers really has been nice.  I’m thinking I’d be a whole lot better at just putting out a sign and say something like: Come by for a cup of tea… you don’t even have to buy it!

So, we came home from the wedding.  Whew… were we ever tired—long day of hurry-scurry and then it was over, the reception was all set up, served and cleaned up and we looked forward to a rest.  We’d had a whirlwind weekend with Timothy stopping in to spend the night and to leave while we were at the wedding.
We returned home and came in to see that Timothy had left notes on the counter before he headed back to Oregon to Mission’s/Bible school.

So on this sheet of paper I see an empty Top Ramen package with a note that read: See exhibit A:  (and the words) Ramen package with opening.  Then an arrow points to the portion of the package that was chewed.  On a second sheet there was a note that read: see exhibit B and an arrow pointed to a circle drawn on the page.  In the circle were tiny evidences that a mouse had been in the drawer.  Ah yes.  Boys.

The girls screamed and shrieked.  The boys practically passed out from laughing.

Ah, the pleasures of living in an old-old farmhouse.  And… O, the pleasures of boys.

It was such a strange day today. Strange bcz it was peculiarly quiet and strange bcz it was so cold… yet, bcz it was sunny out, the children were delighted to play all day—even the work was play for them today.

Yet another boy has mastered the mowing and was so thrilled to be making patterns in the grassy yard where the volleyball “court” is. I looked out to see him practically running as he eagerly mowed that portion of our yard. It was shear delight to him as he saw his work take shape and was utterly pleased with the outcome. I smiled as I thought of that little boy who, only recently it seems, was too short and not quite strong enough to use the mower. But now, an accomplished gardener! ~wink~ I stood there thinking to myself: wow…. this is now our sixth son to reach this milestone. Where did the time go?
I stood there a bit longer… different memories seemed to replay before me… I thought of volleyball games, tether-ball and kick-ball. I thought of the exuberant children playing “Red-Rover…” and all the running around. And then I thought of that yard that was, only a few months ago, covered in water and again I marveled at the swift passage of time.

As I walked around the yard to inspect all the rose bushes I was thrilled to see all the new shoots and leaves. O, the deep pruning each February always grips me… sort of like deep pruning in my own life and heart… deep down I wonder, will things ever grow again? And, as each Spring continues, the answer is obvious: yes. But you know… pruning a rose bush is sort of like giving a boy a haircut. You know you might make a mistake here and there, but eventually the hair grows a little and the smile on the face sort of covers over a lot of errors you might’ve made. So, also, the bushes will fill out and give you smiles and fragrance later. Speaking of smiling… I smiled at the old climbing rose bush – the one I dug up from Wes’ Dad’s ranch… the one that appeared to be dead through and through and yet I dug it up anyway and planted it a few years ago here in our yard. Well, not only was it *not* dead, it was to become the most prolific of all the roses in the gardens. Already divided several times, it’s a thrill to me to see just how alive it is! I think Dad would’ve marveled at these beautiful rose bushes! Well… beautiful is what they will be in a month or two. For now, some are recovering from their recent pruning.

Boys are often a bit too zealous to eliminate the old canes and the bushes sustain a pruning that’s a bit more aggressive than might have been necessary. But I like to have boys out there doing all sorts of phases of gardening so that they get a handle on the processes and the seasons and what to anticipate in each. This way, they sort of get in on the whole spectrum and see the results of proper pruning and well… the results of overly aggressive or improper pruning. Let’s just say that some years the bushes and the trees were given a nice long rest from producing fruit. And we go through a canning season and make no applesauce. I must confess, I was sort of glad the couple of years with no apples that I didn’t have sauce to can (but I regretted it months later when popping open jars of applesauce would have been a delectable treat!) So, when there’s been a very power-packed pruning job and I can see the trees are going to rest from producing any fruit… I tell the young men, in that case, the tree will be that much stronger next year. I try not to belabour the point… it’s just not worth it. They get it. Besides… we’re talking about trees. They’re just trees. Boys are surely more precious than trees.
So the boys are beginning to see they’re very capable and they’re also seeing how much they help me—and O, I let them know it. I’ve learned that there’s no such thing as heaping too much praise on a boy. Sort of like cups of milk and chocolate chip cookies… to a boy, there’s no such thing as too many of those, either. Well, at least they don’t think so, anyway.

What a blessing it has been to be able to occasionally talk with Kathryn on the phone and also to receive her letters from Jinja, Uganda where she’s working in an orphanage.  I know as she wraps up the month of March there, she’s likely thinking that the time is moving too swiftly!

Her letters have been such a source of encouragement to us and have really been informative as to the nature of her work there and all that’s going on.

I’m missing her very much today as we’ve just returned from celebrating my birthday with most all our children and grand-dears, too.  I looked around the room… all the children seated at the table and it was a bittersweet thing to be missing two of them.  I smiled as I pictured the days ahead and considered that perhaps for the next birthday there would be more or fewer at the table.  One thing I know and it is this: all God’s ways are good and all His paths are peace.  I trust Him for that and rest in His grace and merciful kindness.

One of the sweetest things I received for my birthday was a bouquet of tulips from Naomi… I love that she was so enthusiastic to ask daddy to drive her to the store so she could buy a card and the tulips, and chocolates!  She doesn’t know about the umpteenth and one diet. :o)  and perhaps I send to many mixed messages… one day *no* bad food.  The next day some bad food and maybe a mocha, the next day no bad food… and on and on and on.

But now… my birthday has passed and I am older and wiser and perhaps I learned something this birthday… I was reflecting on how the LORD has blessed through the years and I determined to not miss another day by fretting over what wasn’t done well enough and instead, to just be glad.  Glad… that’s what I want the year ahead to be… a glad year.

Here’s a link for Kathryn’s Letters