my story – Page 13 – The Welcome Home

life’s monuments

I woke up this morning with the sun beginning to paint the sky and I thought back to yesterday morning…

My first thought was: I did it! I did something I had been wanting to do – something I had planned to do ten years ago – but ten years ago I had a new baby, I had a new daughter in law and lots of other things going on. But I still had this goal – this “thing to do!” in my life. Now, for many, this wasn’t that momentous a goal – it wasn’t something of a ‘big deal’ to them and, over the years, some have laughed when I shared this goal of mine. I don’t know if it was bcz they saw me a I am now? Or as they think I am now or what? I don’t know. They didn’t know me when I was younger… didn’t know I loved to tap dance, I loved trampoline and tennis and swimming, I was cheerleader, I taught preschool, I was a cook… and on and on. So, lots of my life in the last thirty years has been defined, in large measure, by what I used to be.

It’s that way now. Now, I sit with women who are pregnant or have new babies and I join in their conversations…and their sentences begin, and are punctuated with, “I am…” — but mine begin and are punctuated with, “I used to…”

I used to do a lot of things and so, I guess that’s why I have been taking a hard look at my “bucket list” over the last few years. Instead of a new list — a list of stuff I hope to accomplish before I die, I’ve sort of been considering all the stuff I’ve done and then have been thinking: well, okay… so all that happened; what do I want to be sure and do, see or say in my lifetime. Well, one of those things was this goal… this goal to climb Mt. Pilchuck. I know I’m not talking about a big deal for many – but for me it was a big deal – a big deal bcz I didn’t even know what it actually entailed, it just looked hard. I look out my livingroom window and see this mountain – and from here, seeing that 5324′ peak has been such an amazing site – and I have often thought: I’m going to climb up there.

Well… I did it! And now, as I look out this morning, I see that peak and say: Thank you, Lord, I did it!

pamela at the mt. pilchuck summit

look ma, no hands!!

pamela at the mt. pilchuck summit

from the look out tower at the summit – 5324′ :o)

wes and pamela at the mt. pilchuck summit 92608

on our way back down the mountain

Here’s a photo of Mt. Pilchuck from a distance.

to mothers who got their hands dirty.

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 in places in Mexico & Africa… I’ve listened to Christian sisters share specifics in testimonies of daily life in those and other ‘foreign lands’ and the effort mothers expend to simply survive from day to day. Still, I’ve not been able to sincerely relate — though I’ve sincerely attempted to grasp the reality of life for women the world over. I say women… for the simple fact that that’s who I’m relating to. Stories of men and their lives and work the world over would be another angle to which I cannot relate.

My mother tells me stories of my grandmother and her methods of cleaning, cooking, sewing, making soap, heating kettles, boiling water and doing laundry in large pots, hanging clothes by necessity – not choice – and a myriad of other things she did for her family. Her story is unrecorded… as are the stories of the lives of most all mothers the world over… mothers who got their hands dirty. Mothers who really worked hard – or mothers who really worked really hard.

In addition to the chicken we have for eggs, we’ve been raising chickens — meat birds — raising them for food. There’s been one purpose for them. Week after week they’ve been growing. We after week we’ve been taking care of them. Saturday that part of the deal ended — they lived up to their end of the bargain.

Friends of ours graciously taught us how to handle the chickens when they lived up to their end of the deal. As I stood there, a flood of emotion washed over me – a strange mix of sadness, remorse and nausea. Then, I thought of the mothers who’ve gone before me… mothers who did whatever it took to put nutritious food on the table for their families. I thought of the mothers who didn’t have the butchering conveniences I had before me, nor the running water for the process.

Now, I wasn’t alone in this whole process, for a couple of our boys were tackling the job with sincere eagerness to do well and Wes was right there working alongside them. I’m glad our friend prayed before we began the process — I really had a terribly hard time with the initial ‘taking of a life’ and watching the helpless animal struggle for a moment. The dipping in boiling water was not as challenging and the ‘defeathering’ was even less so. Then came the moment for which I had not been prepared. You know those packets with the “giblets” in them – the neat little packages you remove from the store bought chicken or turkey? Well, there was not a neat little baggie or paper sacklet for the most inward parts of each chicken. This was clearly a challenge to my sensibilities. By the third one, I realized that this was a job that just plain needed to be done.

And then that thought came to me, once again, that mothers who have gone before me had done this innumerable times. I thought about that for quite a few moments. I smiled at the thought that I had now crossed into a new territory for myself. It was another of those accomplishments that made me a kindred spirit to those mothers who’ve gone before me… mothers who got their hands dirty.

blessings in disguise

teacup The longer I live, the more I am amazed at the Hand of Providence in my life and in the lives of our children and. in. my. husband’s. life. I’m sobered, humbled and stand in awe of the marvelous grace of God and His immeasurable kindness.

You know, I’m so thankful for the difficult times – for it’s not in the seemingly ‘easy’ times we see (or seek) God so readily or clearly as in the darker, more uncertain, times. The sweet thing about learning this is that when suddenly faced with calamity or trials it’s easier to see a testing of faith. I guess testings of faith are things we tend to want to avoid, but they’re the very things we will later see as sweet blessings — times we’ll later recall as ‘the best thing that ever happened to me’ sort of experiences. Blessings in disguise — that’s what most trials are.

Last Friday morning we had planned to head to the Oregon Coast for the annual Shield of Faith family conference at Twin Rocks. Thanks to our Hannah, plans were well underway; the van washed and vacuumed, filled with fuel and other necessary items for the eagerly anticipated long drive early the next morning. Our house was ship shape, top to bottom — everything neatly in place, the van completely packed and ready to go. Some sleeping in their ‘trip clothes,’ the children tucked all snug in their beds while visions of good friends, good food, singing, Bible teaching and beach play danced in their heads. We all snuggled into bed…

As we sat in the emergency room last Thursday night, I was consciously aware that the LORD had allowed the current ‘trail of my faith.’ It was one of those: ‘I’ve been this way before’ sort of moments and in those, ‘I’ve been this way before’ moments, because I saw the Hand of the LORD in the past, it’s easier to see His Hand in the present. I think if we miss seeing the Hand of the LORD in trials — or don’t acknowledge His presence, then it’s likely we’ll miss seeing or acknowledging Him in whatever trials we face — past or present.

Wes had been experiencing pain in his shoulder and chest and so we went to the ER and once there, we learned that ER visits by patients with cardiac history are treated very seriously (Only now do I fully understand that phrase: “serious as a heart attack.” My daddy used to say that when someone would ask him: …are you serious? and he’d reply: “serious as a heart attack.” ). Once in ER, Wes was quickly set up in a room, hooked up to monitors and the first of many tests were performed. It was apparent to both of us that he hadn’t had another heart attack — but still, the source of the pain was not known. Probably not quite as concerned as those administering the prompt and thorough medical attention, we were still concerned enough to have gone there. The tests that would be performed through the night and the next afternoon were tests that would give answers to questions we have had for several months: how do we know if the stents are functioning properly? how do we know if the meds are ‘working’ and how do we know the actual condition of his heart?

In addition to an ECG, blood tests and constant monitoring, the Cardiologist ordered a myocardial perfusion scan that gave very clear pictures of the condition of his heart — both at rest and maximum stress. This test, because of the lengthy imaging process, took a couple of hours — but it was in that time period that the LORD demonstrated His lovingkindess so sweetly to me. I was sitting in a waiting area and Wes’s ♥ Cardiologist walked by and exclaimed to me, “Well, yours is an unexpected face for me to see here today! How is Wes?” I told her he was down in nuclear medicine getting having that test done and she told me she’d be right back. Interestingly, providentially, coincidentally ( the Lord meeting us where we’re at = the vertical meeting the horizontal +_ ) she was there making rounds for her current patients and said she wouldn’t ordinarily have been there at that time. When she returned, she assured me that everything looked good — there were some final tests to do and then he’d be free to go home.

How gracious of the LORD to have her there that day, to have her recognize me as she was passing by. The Cardiologist that was treating him all day was happy to defer to Dr. Chung. What an amazing Doctor she is… I have such great respect and love for her and thank the LORD for her professional skill – for her care and concern. The reports continued to come back and the results brought more delight to me us! No heart damage. Low BP. Low cholesterol… make that: Low, low cholesterol. His heart looks great, blood flow is great and stamina is great. The doc said to Wes, “Keep doing whatever you’re doing… this is good news.” I knew it was only bcz of The Good News.

It was getting late in the day and I knew all the children were anxious as anything to get going to the coast, but their concern and patience was so endearing as they repeatedly told me not to worry about a thing. It was now 12 hours past the time we had planned to leave. Wes was moved to another room where he continued to receive excellent care and monitoring. The time was ticking away. I thanked the LORD for the ‘inconvenience’ and for His great provision. When does anyone have time to go to the hospital, anyway? ;o)

Finally home again that evening, the faces that greeted us at the car never looked sweeter, and to Wes, I’m sure the shower never felt better… I know I never loved him more. Soon we were on our way. Skipping a few beats, the song was playing on. Everyone glad for papa’s health, glad to be going no matter what the hour, glad for the day…

One thing about driving through Seattle and then on through Tacoma and Olympia to Kelso and then over to the coast at night: traffic? what traffic? I could count on one hand the cars I saw in an hour. I thanked the LORD for His provision His protection and blessings… driving on very little sleep, I was singing all the way as everyone was sleeping… I had too much to sing about and it was, after all, the long anticipated trip! Every little while I would glance over to my precious husband… resting and looking so great. ♥ It had been a great day.

Blessings… many blessings in disguise.

Hallelujah

Motherhood… a noble and divine mission.

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… the praises, the cards, the gifts and the favours — even though and even when I feel so unworthy of all the cards and their lofty sentiments. But in an attempt to avoid the attention of selfcenteredly denying being a worthy recipient, I have continually thought: O Lord, please help me to get and keep my eyes off myself and my perceived failings and help me to keep my eyes upon You — for all that I have has come from You — my gifts, my possessions and my calling. O Lord, all of this, all of these things I see I have and have failed so many times — well, Lord, I can do nothing to change — but I ask Your mercy and Your favour, Lord, for all I’m doing and all that I’m called to do… O Lord, may I be wise and may I be noble as I live out the rest of my days and may my motherhood be an honour to me and to You and may it be said of me that I trusted in You. May it be said of me… I waited on You.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to come to the place where I feel that the hand that rocked my baby’s cradle ruled the world — nor can I fathom feeling adequate for the task I’ve been given… but I do pray that in the end I will have been found faithful and I pray that my children will see that it was such an honour for me to be their mother. I pray they’ll know how grateful I was for the indescribable awe and privilege to carry them.

O, what a privilege — a blessing and honour — to be a mother and a family.

Some precious poems that inspire… encouragement for Mother’s Happy Day….

This one, by William Allingham was given to me several years ago in a Mother’s Day card… Timothy said he had been searching for a suitable quote or poem for my card… It’s very… Timothy.

“Before a day was over,
Home comes the rover,
For mother’s kiss—sweeter this
Than any other thing!”

That was the last stanza of the poem Wishing, by William Allingham — think you’ve never heard of him?
The opening lines from Allingham’s poem The Fairies was quoted by the character of The Tinker near the beginning of the movie Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory.

“Up the airy mountain
down the rushing glen
we daren’t go a-hunting
for fear of little men…”

One of my favourite poems of all… by Edgar Guest — my friend, Carolyn, read this poem as part of her devotional at a baby shower given in honour of our sixth baby. It was a beautiful time… this poem always reminds me of that and all the many ways God has used the words of this poem to comfort and encourage me through the years as a “mother of many.”

Tied Down

“They tie you down,” a woman said,
Whose cheeks should have been flaming red
With shame to speak of children so.
“When babies come you cannot go
In search of pleasure with your friends,
And all your happy wandering ends.
The things you like you cannot do,
For babies make a slave of you.”

I looked at her and said, “’Tis true
That children make a slave of you,’
And tie you down with many a knot,
But have you never thought to what
It is of happiness and pride
That little babies have you tied?
Do you not miss the greater joys
That come with little girls and boys?

They tie you down to laughter rare,
To hours of smiles and hours of care,
To nights of watching and to fears;
Sometimes they tie you down to tears
And then repay you with a smile,
And make your trouble all worth while.
They tie you fast to chubby feet
And cheeks of pink and kisses sweet.

They fasten you with cords of love
To God divine, who reigns above.
They tie you, whereso’er you roam,
Unto the little place called home;
And over sea or railroad track
They tug at you to bring you back.
The happiest people in the town
Are those the babies have tied down.

Oh, go your selfish way and free
But hampered I would rather be,
Yes rather than a kingly crown
I would be, what you term, tied down;
Tied down to dancing eyes and charms,
Held fast by chubby, dimpled arms,
The fettered slave of girl and boy,
And win from them earth’s finest joy.

~ Edgar A. Guest

And another “Mother’s Day” Poem…

I treasure poems by James Whitcomb Riley so much more after seeing the Indiana home in which he lived and wrote stories and poetry. I’ll never forget its simplicity or its grandeur. It’s kind of a bittersweet thought to consider he never had children, never married and so never personally experienced many of the things he wrote about. I recall, as we toured his home, being keenly aware of the solitariness of his life and the seeming stark simplicity of his existence.

A BOY’S MOTHER

MY mother she’s so good to me,
Ef I was good as I could be,
I couldn’t be as good—no, sir!—
Can’t any boy be good as her!

She loves me when I’m glad er sad;
She loves me when I’m good er bad;
An’, what’s a funniest thing, she says
She loves me when she punishes.

I don’t like her to punish me.—
That don’t hurt,—but it hurts to see
Her cryin’.—Nen I cry; an’ nen
We both cry an’ be good again.

She loves me when she cuts an’ sews
My little cloak an’ Sund’y clothes;
An’ when my Pa comes home to tea,
She loves him most as much as me.

She laughs an’ tells him all I said,
An’ grabs me up an’ pats my head;
An’ I hug her, an’ hug my Pa
An’ love him purt’ nigh as much as as Ma.

James Whitcomb Riley 1849-1916

________________________________

The Hand That Rocks The Cradle
Is The Hand That Rules The World

BLESSINGS on the hand of women!
Angels guard its strength and grace.
In the palace, cottage, hovel,
Oh, no matter where the place;
Would that never storms assailed it,
Rainbows ever gently curled,
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.

Infancy’s the tender fountain,
Power may with beauty flow,
Mothers first to guide the streamlets,
From them souls unresting grow—
Grow on for the good or evil,
Sunshine streamed or evil hurled,
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.

Woman, how divine your mission,
Here upon our natal sod;
Keep—oh, keep the young heart open
Always to the breath of God!
All true trophies of the ages
Are from mother-love impearled,
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.

Blessings on the hand of women!
Fathers, sons, and daughters cry,
And the sacred song is mingled
With the worship in the sky—
Mingles where no tempest darkens,
Rainbows evermore are hurled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.

William Ross Wallace (1819-1891)

God bless you, dear mother… today and every day you live and serve your family, tenderly guide your home and give glory and honour to the Lord.

So, about that laundry…

I have to smile this morning about the “No answers; just get me results, please.” piece I wrote yesterday. I just finished a second load of laundry this morning… more thankful than ever for the washing machine and dryer. The delightful smell of fresh clean laundry is to be filling our home. I couldn’t remember exactly when Wes bought me the Maytag Neptune frontloader washer and dryer set that replaced the former washer & dryer when he determined that he had repaired the former set for the last time. I could not recall exactly when it was purchased… I had the manual for the set, but I didn’t have the paperwork from the purchase — so I didn’t know just how long I’ve been enjoying that set.

What a fun time we had looking through photos this morning. O my, you know, time really flies! I know I say that quite often, but somehow, reviewing all the different photos this morning, the reality was astounding to me. I was amazed at the number of events, important milestones and special family times we’ve experienced in the last four years. Finally we isolated the week we must have gotten the new set bcz we saw a photo of someone sitting on the old dryer at one point and a few weeks later another photo showed someone standing near the new set. Wow… that was a lot of laundry ago… at least 4000 loads. And to think: sometimes I balk at having to do one load.

I fondly recall the year we lived on Orcas Island — we only had two small boys at the time. There was no washer or dryer in the old farmhouse we rented. It was a marvelous adventure living there. In the kitchen was an wood cookstove and there was an enormous fenced garden in the yard with fruit trees surrounding the house. Sometime I’ll share about that garden… and sitting on ladders eating cherries for breakfast.

I had a washboard which I used in the large old bathtub in the bathroom. I quickly became pretty adept at using the washboard and hand washing the laundry each day… the little boys would watch as I would mix the soap and washing soda, scrub the clothes and then swirl the clothes around to rinse them all in clean, fresh water. In time I gained strength and speed at hand washing, wringing and hanging out the laundry each day. I had written out Proverbs 31.10-31 and taped it to the knotty pine wall of the bathroom… in time, I memorized that and other passages of Scripture.

I remember the nights bringing in the laundry from the line — the sun didn’t set there until well after ten in the summer. It was an amazing time. It’s times like those that make me appreciate all the ways God has led me and all the many ways in which He has provided for our family through the years.

This morning as I was doing the laundry, I was sharing with a couple of our boys — those memories that were so sweet to me. It’s been a long, long time since I had to do laundry in the bathtub as a matter of necessity.

And between loads this morning, Wes came downstairs and told me that the Maytag repair man would be out tomorrow to fix the washing machine. that. broke. last. night. after. I. wrote. about. laundry. ;0)

So, my aerobic exercise program that began this morning has been going very nicely. 🙂 The dryer is filled with freshly washed laundry and another load is all clean, all wrung out and waiting in the bathtub to be put in the dryer. Only one more load and the laundry will be done for the day. I have been laughing about this so much.

I told Hannah that I had *just* written about laundry and the importance of just doing it just yesterday. She smiled and said, “Mama, don’t write about me today, okay? I’m doing just fine.”

Okay. So… today I’m continuing to study and write in preparation for a retreat workshop next weekend and for tonight’s teaching at a Titus 2 meeting. Both pertain to marriage. Tonight’s a ‘to love their husband’ talk. I know I’m going to be tested. While I’ve been typing this, I’m appreciating the sound of tumbling of levi’s snaps and buckles of overalls in the dryer, the lovely scent of lavender coming from the damp clothes in the bathtub…

… and believe me, I am filled with thanks and am feeling very humbled by the gift of a spectacular bouquet of roses and lilies that was just now delivered to my door.

learning to stand still…

teacuppamela It’s been a week since our daughter, Kathryn, came home from Uganda. It’s amazing to me all that this past week has held. I’ve learned a great deal more about the love of God, the fellowship of the saints, the ministry of the Holy Spirit and faith — faith that God is who He says He is and will do what He says/said: That will He will do and that has He done.

Ye shall not need to fight in this battle: set yourselves, stand ye still, and see the salvation of the LORD with you, O Judah and Jerusalem: fear not, nor be dismayed; to morrow go out against them: for the LORD will be with you.

2Chronicles 20.17

As Kathryn shares the stories of her time in Africa, I cannot help but be mindful of God’s provision and protection – I cannot help but be mindful of His Truths and Promises. And, as with other steps of obedience, there are many times where God’s work comes into question. I think it’s just the enemy attempting to thwart the work of God – and so I am attempting on all points to resist the devil that he will flee. One of the darts of the enemy was to doubt God’s direction and provision for Kathryn to go to Uganda. I didn’t see it as a dart at first – I even entertained the doubts and even allowed them to colour my thinking a bit. But when I realized the doubts were not of the LORD but of the enemy, I began to see them for what they were. Another dart of the enemy was in the form of questioning the ministry and its way and purpose. Since I believe humanitarian aid* is akin to works-based faith, I’m generally opposed to that sort of aid to those in need. But if, in the course of ministry, humanitarian aid is directed by the LORD and aid is given, then I believe such a ministry to be needful, ordained and a genuine blessing – and such work will be blessed of the LORD. [*a believer giving aid and not first giving the Truth of the Gospel along with the aid]

When individuals questioned the propriety of a young woman traveling to Africa — even in the name of the LORD for the purpose of lending aid and support, I tended to bristle – for I knew in part that such travel is contrary to my long held and strong personal beliefs. However the LORD had a purpose — and when the Hand of the LORD is moving, I surely have seen that there will be times or events that seem to be a contradiction to even long held beliefs.

“…fear not, nor be dismayed…
for the LORD will be with you.”

So, occasionally, there will seem to be exceptions to the rule – but the exceptions must not become the rule. Kathryn knew that and knows it more completely now. We saw that as we spoke by phone a few times each week and by email when possible. I suppose for that young woman, in that instance, and for that time, there was a seeming exception as we wouldn’t say the same could or will happen with our other daughters or other young women. We trust the work of the LORD to continue and for the seeds planted to yield rich fruit. I’ve asked Kathryn to write of her experiences and share more photos in order to paint a better picture of the people, life and work in Africa. She brought home several things to show us — not so much like last year, but interesting things — gifts from others that one might discard if one didn’t know the story behind the gift. These gifts, her things, her journals and some things she brought back to share with our family are all the more precious to her as she had thought she’d perhaps never see them again. When she arrived in Seattle, she was to find that her luggage was ‘lost’ and so she had to get the the place where she would accept this as a gift of the LORD — and she did. Though we prayed and she would join us in praying for her luggage to be found, she came to the point that she knew everything was fine — that what she brought home in her heart and the work the LORD did, in and through her, was enough. She just needed to stand still and see the Hand of the LORD and recall His work, His provision and great goodness.

stand ye still, and see the salvation of the LORD with you.”

A few days after she returned home, Wes received a very early morning phone call from the airline and a bit later (unbeknown to the rest of us) her luggage was returned to our door. Our family gathered for breakfast and Bible study as we do every morning and following a time of prayer, Kathryn said she was just fine and glad for whatever the outcome, but had still hoped her luggage would be found — and Wes replied to her: O, you mean that luggage?? He was pointing to the suitcase behind him in our living room — something he’d not mentioned all through breakfast, Bible study and prayer. God is sure gracious to have allowed that blessing. And as she lifted out the contents of the different compartments, we all saw what was so important to her and we were all touched by the sincerity and generosity of the gifts and givers. It’s both gripping and heartrending the beauty, simplicity and creativity that comes of abject poverty — that all over the world God is at work creating beautiful things in and through people.

When she arrived home a week ago, though thoroughly tired, Kathryn was so very glad to have both gone and come home again. We believe she went to Africa for all the right reasons and returned home to the States for all the right reasons; and, in between, God surely affirmed both — to her and to us.

A hero comes home.

teacuppamela Today

When she gets off the plane she’ll likely look much like all the passengers — probably weary, probably shifting the backpack and carry-on and probably looking around to see familiar faces. But to us she won’t be just any ordinary passenger and this won’t be just any ordinary trip to the airport.

She’s left behind hundreds and hundreds of orphaned children, muddy red clay, deeply rutted unpaved roads and a world of poverty, famine and loss. Now she’s become very familiar with a whole different way of life and a culture that’s no longer foreign to her. She’s left part of her heart with friends and loved ones there. She’s left behind the daily arduous tasks of mere survival. But she’s also left behind armfuls of love… children for whom her love no words describe. She’s walked hundreds of miles, dished hundreds of bowls of rice and beans, clipped hundreds of little nails and held hundreds of hands.

But today she returns home… and our hearts are probably as full of love for her as the love she’s left behind. It’s sort of a bittersweet thing to wish her here with us and yet to know she’s so loved and needed where she was just yesterday.

But today… our hero comes home.

See that ye not be troubled…

We had a little family outing last night… an exciting trip to a large grocery store north of our home. I don’t know if it’s bcz we don’t always take everyone with us to shop for groceries or if the trips for some are far and few between, but in recent years one of the great adventures is to go to the grocery store. Everyone’s going? a few called out with delight. So, that was our ‘family night‘ activity. Pushing the cart through the aisles, I was keenly aware of some of the empty and nearly empty shelves. Yes, the rice ~~hoarding~~ “shortage” had hit this store hard. Where there is normally quite a large volume of rice on lengthy shelves, last night the only evidence was a grain of rice here and there and the price tags lining the fronts of the shelves. Similarly, the shelves of assorted flour were notably sparse. The power of media.

I wondered… what will it be like when out and out panic sets in and people read and heed the warning to stockpile food as seen in the Wall Street Journal? The power of media.

Then I considered… if this is what media can do in a few days by what it’s sharing… what is not being shared, or rather, what is being twisted to produce a particular outcome?

Consider Matthew 24.4-12

4 And Jesus answered and said unto them, Take heed that no man deceive you. 5 For many shall come in my name, saying, I am Christ; and shall deceive many. 6 And ye shall hear of wars and rumours of wars: see that ye be not troubled: for all these things must come to pass, but the end is not yet. 7 For nation shall rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom: and there shall be famines, and pestilences, and earthquakes, in divers places. 8 All these are the beginning of sorrows.”

All these are the beginning of sorrows.

9 Then shall they deliver you up to be afflicted, and shall kill you: and ye shall be hated of all nations for my name’s sake. 10 And then shall many be offended, and shall betray one another, and shall hate one another. 11 And many false prophets shall rise, and shall deceive many.”

And many false prophets shall rise, and shall deceive many.

12 And because iniquity shall abound, the love of many shall wax cold.”

Every day… the news seems bleaker and the trials greater. Everyday the cares and concerns of this life seem heavier — more burdensome. But God. But God. I think we forget that sometimes. The LORD tells us:

Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me. Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.”
John 14.1, 27

We may all be watching the price of things skyrocket, we may be dismayed at the tripling of the cost of wheat and oil in the last couple of years… we may fret about the unavailability of many things… we may feel the pinch so acutely that we fear we’ll not survive this mess. But we are not without a Saviour. We are not alone. We may have troubles and trials we’ve not known before. Things may be breaking, things may be wearing out, things may be disappointing us, people may be letting us down… But we are not without a Saviour. We are not alone. What’s being taught as “truth” in many “churches” may have you and me just reeling and we may feel we have no voice and yet must scream. We may be watching the dismantling of the Sacred Truths and the selling of the Truth and the buying and swallowing of lies… all of these things are abounding yet more and more. But we are not without a Saviour. We are not alone.

The enemy would have us to believe otherwise. Let not your heart be troubled.

Home. Don’t miss it for the world.

Whenever we attend a HomeSchool conference or listen to a message espousing the benefits of home education, we tend to talk about it for days — weeks, even. But our enthusiasm or dedication to home education is not limited to or sparked by those times. Our dedication to homeschooling is strengthened, though, by such times as we just experienced this past weekend. Our enthusiasm is occasionally dampened by some failure or some personal discouragement, but truly, for twenty years, our enthusiasm to press on has not waned.

I suppose I could just say that occasionally we run into those 2 Corinthians 4.8 times: “We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; Persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed;” It is in those times that we have learned to step back, evaluate the day, evaluate the curriculum, evaluate the level of understanding and stand still for a bit. It’s in those ‘standing still’ times that we can best determine our next step (for that child, or for all the children, as the case may be) and not hastily toss in the towel. All is not lost, all is not for naught as the enemy might entice us to believe.

Sometimes we take on too many things for a season and need to shelve things for a bit. Other times (and this is more often the case) we need to *add* some more things to the daily study load. Now, that might seem like a contradiction – but no; sometimes the weariness or the naughtiness stems not from too much to do, but too little. That’s why the ‘standing still’ times or the evaluation times are so necessary.

I was recently asked if I believe every Christian parent should homeschool their children. You know, I used to give a politically correct answer to this question – fearing reproach for emphatically stating what I erroneously thought was just a personal conviction. So, as I am now accustomed to doing, I answered with resolute conviction and said, yes. Yes, I do believe all Christian parents should home educate their children.

I believe it to be a scriptural mandate and now, more than ever, a culturally necessary decision. I don’t say this to stir controversy or to cast aspersions at all, but rather, because of the nature and scope of government eduction. I/we could never endorse a great deal of what’s commonly taught in government schools – and believe me, I/we do recognize the great wealth of information available to government school students – that’s not questioned at all. However, those benefits are far and away overshadowed by the immoral teachings and presuppositions, philosophies, theories taught as fact and behaviours that are antithetical to Scripture and our Creator — not to mention the fact that the Word clearly delineates who children’s teachers ought to be and what they’re to teach.

So, these are my heart thoughts: Home is where the heart is. Home is where the learning begins. Home is where each child’s story is written and history is recorded and where the glory of the Lord is walked, talked and the Word is read and lived out. Home may not have all that the world has to offer, this is true… but, I have to ask: is that what we want to give our children anyway?

Home. Don’t miss it for the world.