Today I’d like to acknowledge the mothers who came before me… mothers who worked long before days dawned and long after suns set — women who, without conveniences, running water, power and supplies, cared for their families – putting them before themselves and tenaciously pressed on through the years of their lives. It does not escape me that life for women in many places in the world live such a life today. I feel as though I cannot personally relate – I have photos in my possession and have heard numerous stories my children have told me about living conditions…
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I’ve received emails with the following article a few times since yesterday afternoon… and each time I receive it I’m once again encouraged and reminded of the great blessing of motherhood and childbearing specifically. I’m encouraged bcz the ones who have sent it are mothers who not only love their children but also love being mothers — mothers who have borne many children and whose bodies have been made comfortable… for babies… and adored by husbands who appreciate and marvel at the handiwork and blessing of the Lord. Article by Jeff (The Public Undressing of America) Pollard The True Meaning…
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I think we forget that sometimes. I think we get all caught up in the dailies that we miss a whole bunch of the deeper importance and imperatives of motherhood. I think in the busyness of life we forget the deeper calling, the noble endeavor and the consequences of how we spend our time and our days and the evidence of what we become devoted to or distracted by — a sobering reality is the evidence of the work of our hands. O, may the Lord be our guiding Light. O— I know I need the messages of Mother’s Day……
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Really… why go to Homeschool Conferences year after year? As I’ve spent all these quiet hours here in bed, I’ve pondered the last several days… the keynotes and the workshops. There was sort of a hidden blessing to getting sick at this time. In the meantime I’ve had opportunity to give thought to the Christian Heritage Homeschool and Family Discipleship Conference… not only to the remarkable effort on the part of those who laboured to present such a fine conference, but to all who participated and to all the families in attendance. It really was quite an unforgettable and inspirational…
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Truly, one of the most surprising and endearing gifts I ever received was a bouquet that Samuel brought me from our front yard. Now, the other children had been bringing me flowers from the yard, one from the neighbour’s yard and some from a home down the street. Well, we had to take care of the instruction and training on issues of ownership, theft and trespassing — even with best intentions, those last two things were clearly wrong. Even if the neighbours had better flowers, you know, my most favourite flowers or even the most beautiful flowers in the world…
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Do you ever consider the words you say the most? I mean, besides, ” justa minute” or any other phrase you use to buy yourself a few more minutes of time before you tend to the ‘interruption” behind you? I’m thinking that the words I say most are these (and I must’ve read too many D. Seuss books early on bcz my words all tend to rhyme): no. go. so. There’s any combination of: no throw(ing). you’re sure grow(ing). can you tie a bow? tell me what you know. can you show me? hurry, hurry, hurry, let’s not be slow.…
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As I held a baby born late in the season of fruitfulness, I was filled with tender compassion for the mama. The older mama face – etched with lines from smiles and from squinting in the brightness of the sun through many seasons and from the joys and sorrows accumulated through the years – and now another little face to kiss, feet to guide and hands to teach. But not just another — the last one. There’s a peculiar bittersweetness to childbearing late in the season of fruitfulness, though I don’t think this is initially comprehended in the pregnancy or…
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I’ve been cleaning tonight. I decided to face the inevitable. I hadn’t been up to Timothy’s room in the last couple of days and so I decided to go up… to stand there… and then to sit among his stuff. It was interesting to spend time there — sort of assessing the life by what’s left behind, or to see what’s been important to him. One wall of the small bedroom is lined with bookshelves and on them are rows of books… dozens of missionary biographies and commentaries among a variety of other manuals, Bible studies and, generally, anything that…
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I remember the night our son left home… I was nursing a newborn baby, the fragrance of the milky breath and tender cheeks and snuggly baby clothes was intoxicating. And as I sat holding that baby close to my heart, another ‘baby’ was walking out the door and I thought at that moment I would die. Maybe I even wished it would be so. I had never known a deeper grief and a more paralyzing moment of despair. It was a strange mix of failure, disappointment, loss, hopelessness, regret, shame, remorse, shock, doubt, frustration, and sadness all wrapped up in…
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Yep – I let a typo become the title of this entry. Cindy‘s original blog yesterday “Older Mothers of the World Unite” has been quite interesting to watch as comments have doubled overnight. I shared some things on her comments section and posted them here. Not as an indictment of mothers but an admonition to evaluate some decisions/activities. That said… I continue to mull over this matter today. I say… mothers: Untie! This, I say, for many reasons. Older mothers have been afraid to say things to their capable, confident, well accessorized, independent, younger counterparts. Now, at first blush, my…