Standing on the shore…
I’m standing on the shore watching the tide roll in and wash out again. Day after day, over and over and over it rolls. Day after day more things are washed up on the beach, more things are uncovered at the water rushes back out to sea leaving the exposed shells and seaweed on the wet sand. Little urchins burrow down and take cover in the wet sand. Over and over the water flows… sand fleas, clams and other shells, starfish — occasionally a beautiful sand dollar is left sparkling in the sun. What delight, what a prize each one is… now, something for everyone!
A beautiful boat sails by and I look up and observe that it’s severely listing first to the left and then to the right and seems as though it will capsize from all the people hurrying en masse to one side and then to the other. Few seem to be questioning whether or not the boat is even going in the right direction.
I’ve been standing on the beach… occasionally pacing back and forth… should I wade into the rolling waters or just stand here observing the tide aware of the chilly wet sand beneath my feet? Should I just jump in and ride the waves? I mean, it seems like everyone’s getting in the water… it must be alright… everyone’s doing it! O, wait, maybe I ought to just swim out to the boat and climb aboard and join the crowd there.
Nah… I think I’ll just stand here on the shoreline and eat bread and watch the waves and soak in the son a little while longer.
the hard wooden chair
I have, on several recent occasions, had opportunity to feel the effects of sitting long on a hard wooden chair. And, I suppose, the more difficult part of sitting on that chair has been to sit there and quietly observe the conversation at the table. I’m not sure if I can sit there quietly bcz I have had increasing experience sitting there or if incredulity keeps me quiet. I know that a slack jaw keeps me quiet on a whole bunch of things — such as the sitting in stunned silence at the progression of the erosion of faith in the church.
So, the hard wooden chair…
I’ve sat listening to various arguments and comments extolling the virtues of a presidential candidate and the flaws and short comings of the other. I’ve listened to convictions, preconceptions and misconceptions and insinuations in discussions about qualifications, abilities, attributes, inexperience, successes, incompetency and a whole lot more concerning the various presidential candidates. I cannot count the number of times I listen and come to the exact opposite conclusion to the one sitting across the table. I shift on my chair… the firmness beneath me seems to increase and I wonder how long I will sit there quietly… quietly observing a conversation. Occasionally I muster courage to comment – occasionally I simply cannot refrain from a more lengthy observation.
Usually, though, it’s just plain easier to nod and smile — not in agreement — but as a form of self preservation. O, sure there’s tremendous temptation to fling out a few well articulated and carefully aimed zingers, cheeky comments or subtle innuendos. It’s easy for us as women to load up a comment, time it just right for maximum impact. I find I sit there, and think sort of Ann of Green Gables-ish: “… but if you only knew how many things I want to say and don’t…”
I sort of blog this way, too. But not always.
I’m working on a talk I’ll be giving at a monthly women’s meeting tomorrow night – I’m continuing on through Titus2 as ‘scheduled’ for the year. As I look out my window just now, I see our white picket fence with the little hearts cut out of each picket and then there’re the long lacy branches of the huge old weeping willow tree nearly touching the shadowy sunshine on the soft green grass… and I marvel and the timing or timeliness of this message I’m working on. The ‘why’ behind the mandate is what’s particularly thought provoking to me these days. The message this month is: “…to be keepers at home” and, as has been the motivating reason, I will, as I do each month, stress that the basis for living out this charge given to women is: “that the Word of God be not blasphemed.” Titus 2.5 See? Timely.
The Word is sometimes like a hard wooden chair. It’s so solid. You can stand on it.
It takes a mama…
I don’t get out much… some, but not much. And, for the most part, I like it that way. O, don’t get me wrong: I love to go places, I love to do things and I love to see new things. But I love being home. When I do go out… I sure see why it’s important for me to be here… at home, keeping the home and caring for each one and each thing here.
I love keeping our home and I love home-work. I love making sure that home’s home. O, I know that anyone can clean houses, make food, clean it up and make more food and clean that up, too and do it over and over and over again. I know that anyone can put stuff in the washer, move it from there to the dryer, put more stuff in the washer and do the same thing over and over and over again. I know that anyone can supervise the existence of children in a home and maybe even teach them things, too. I know that anyone can tidy up, dust, vacuum, sweep, wipe, mop, and turn lights on or off in a home. I know that anyone can bar a door from intruders and anyone can uphold a schedule and order.
But it takes a mama to make a home home. It takes a mama to care for the things of a home. It takes a mama to care for the apparel and appearance of the children and husband in her home and it takes a mama to care for the quality of the food and the presentation of the meals and the appearance of the table and the conversation that happens there. It so matters what goes on them,what goes in them and what goes on around them.
It takes a mama to remember the nuances of life… the candlelight and the music of life — to share the yesteryears and stories of generations gone before. It takes a mama to remember the preferences and particular idiosyncrasies that make up each child’s unique personalities and to really care how those children feel and how their character is shaped. It takes a mama to genuinely attend to a nursling, a baby, a toddling child, a maturing son or daughter and all the needs each age and each season brings — it takes a mama to anticipate what the changes will be and what they’ll necessarily require. It takes a mama to care about a rash, a fever, a first step, a composition, a heartache, dental appointment, a physical exam, pictures on the fridge, a skinned knee, an awkward incident, a disappointment, an accomplishment…
It takes a mama to set the tone, the order, the routines, guide the activities and make the sweet memories of the home. It takes a mama to demonstrate God’s precious and specific order for one of the halves of His creation. It takes a mama to show what the Word says… to demonstrate the living Word of God in word and in deed. It takes a mama to hear the heart of her children — and to care what’s going on in each heart. It takes a mama to teach a child to pray… and to listen to the LORD. It takes a mama to do all that matters (and a mama knows it all matters… a lot).
It takes a mama to make a home sweet and it takes a mama to give a home a heart and it takes a mama to make a home a wonderful place to remember and a dear place to long for. It takes a mama to be a real sweetheart for her husband and the first sweetheart of each of her children. It takes a mama to make a home a journey, a launch-pad, a destination and a desire.
When mama’s not home… the home has no heart ♥ and there’s really no-one to look well to the ways thereof. God’s clear design is marred and distorted when mothers lose sight of, or disregard, the inestimable value of motherhood… when women choose lesser things.
H♥me. It takes a mother’s kiss to make some things all better. It so matters when mother’s there. And it so matters when she’s not.
Another first day of school
I woke up this morning with eager anticipation for the day: our 21st “first day of homeschool.” In the early days of homeschooling, I would not have even guessed where we would be today — in terms of both where we’ve been or how many children have been taught at the table. I could not have asked or imagined the blessings that have come through the years. Additionally, I most certainly didn’t know enough to know that there would be days of anguish or exasperation — near despair over what I don’t know and couldn’t communicate. But I also didn’t know enough to know that there would also be days of immeasurable satisfaction and that the accomplishments over the years would bring such great joy. I suppose, I didn’t know the LORD enough to know that He would be my strength and my song — my ever present help in trouble or in time of need.
As always, we seek to train up the children in the way — in the way they should go — in the fear and admonition of the LORD. My goal/our goal is for the children to be taught of the LORD at His pace – in peace – in His time. As a homeschooling mother, I’ve been learning that the greatest achievement will not be what I do, say or model, but what the LORD does in and through each of the children based on how and what they learn and how they apply their studies. So then, I’m profoundly aware each day of the awesome task before me – I’m mindful that they will be influenced for good or evil, to be industrious or slothful in work, attentive or ignorant in learning, obedient or disobedient in behaviour, careful or careless in presentation, eager or apathetic concerning the things of God, studies or prayer or a myriad of other things. If my work is half-hearted, if I murmur or if my example is poor, then the resulting teaching will be unfruitful and will bring them a snare.
… a child left to himself bring his mother to shame.” —proverbs 29.15
what a powerful proverb. But what joy a mother has whose children walk with the LORD.
I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth.” –3John 1.4
Truly, I am beginning to grasp the tremendous truth and blessing of faithful children. I know no greater joy than this… and so, today as we embark on another year of homeschooling, I’m desiring this above all things — that the children will walk in Truth — that they will know Him.
But the mercy of the LORD is from everlasting to everlasting upon them that fear Him, and His righteousness unto children’s children;” –Psalms 103.17
I pray to teach them to love to work, to love to read, help, learn and then I pray to see frequent use of education through application and teaching of others by example. Above all, I pray each one of our children will be found faithful. I pray they will have good understanding and rich insight and that the LORD will make them wise.
I pray to be found faithful to the unparalled calling of motherhood and I pray to demonstrate this in joy to each one of our children. How grateful I am to know that I am not alone in this great calling — in this great charge. King Lemuel’s mother (or Soloman’s mother) taught him well — and, my-o-my, what an example we’ve been given in theProverbs 31 passage of Scripture.
And that from a child thou hast known the Holy Scriptures, which are able to make thee wise unto salvation through faith which is in Christ Jesus. –2Timothy 3.15
Okay, so…
this is funny…
I was browsing the news and the headline: “Is Oprah Biased?” jumped out at me. I just had to laugh. The question was asked by an ABC News journalist. I think my mama would have said: “well, now, that’s like the pot calling the kettle black.” Well, or I would say that.
I’ve actually been wondering why the democrat nominee even has to raise campaign funds anyway. But maybe it’s just me.
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.
Bountiful beauty
Pretty soon the beautiful hydrangeas will stop blooming for the year…
For now, each morning I love to walk around the yard and see the beautiful variety and lovely shades of blues, greens, purples, lavenders and red hydrangeas… these are my favourite flowers… but the roses are quite lovely, too.
in the rose garden are candlelight roses, lavender, various pinks, yellow, peach, coral and white… the whites are particularly beautiful this year!
produce from the garden this morning… in addition to many(!) zucchini, yellow squash, beans and onions, Naomi and ‘melia picked some carrots. They came running in to show me the “married carrots” and the “pants carrots.” I smiled… at the married carrots… sweet, innocent girls thought the carrots were dancing bcz they were married. Sweet. I love the delightfully sweet innocence of children.
Restorer of the Breach(es)
I’m still pondering: The old paths…
A few days ago I was looking at photographs and was trying to recollect those days… actually, those and a lot of other “days gone by” and I began to consider and ask myself: what good things did I do in those days do I no longer do? What did I leave off doing — and why? Did I get weary? Did I get overconfident? Did I get tired? Did I get lazy? Did I forget? Why did I stop doing the things that were working well? And, when? When did I veer off the path?
Slowly over the last several days and likely into the next several weeks, I am working to restore the old paths… the old paths of home… the routines, the objectives and the disciplines of our home life. A mama has to be the restorer of the breach(es).
Somewhere along the way some of the pavers of the old path slipped away… various floods of life and life’s trials broke up the path — children grew, needs changed, babies were born, children grew up and left home, the tides of business ebbed and flowed, sickness and health, strength and weakness… and so, along the way — here and there, places on the path were washed out.
Probably of all the decisions I’ve been making — or the tasks I’ve been doing lately — setting our home in order has been the most important. Clutter and disorder paralyzes people — and mothers, probably more than they realize, are rendered ineffective if there is much clutter and disorder. Clutter hinders creativity and productivity and disorder hinders unity and accomplishment — both in ourselves and in our children or daily family life.
I hadn’t really realized this was happening — it was so long in existence and so subtle in appearance. I hadn’t realized that I had stopped checking “completed” chores. I hadn’t realized that I had started finishing jobs others had either started and didn’t complete or hadn’t done at all. I hadn’t noticed that things were being overlooked… not put away… not taken care of properly.
I hadn’t noticed that jobs were being done well enough instead of well done! Close or ‘good enough’ is fine some of the time… but ‘good enough’ is not fine for all of the time. Close or ‘good enough’ is fine for younger children “in training,” but for myself and older children who know better, close or ‘good enough’ is not: good. Enough.
More on all this later.
blessings,
Disciplines of Life
I’ve been thinking about paths lately… spurred on by reading in Jeremiah and considering ‘the old paths’ and doing the things we know to be profitable in our home/life. I had to smile at the following video. In our home, through the years, we’ve had many, many opportunities to train up boys and girls in the way they should go. This, most notably, is a spiritual training – but, it’s also training in life skills, work ethic and manners. Repetition (both in direction and practice) is the key to accomplishing the objective and to developing abilities. But, more than all that, it’s not just important that our children know how to work as that they do so of their own initiative – that they know what to do and do it well — that they see a need and fill it — that they do what needs doing without being told to do it – and doing so cheerfully.
So, we’re ever in training — ever in training mode.
And it’s not just important that our develop habits or manners — it’s important that they have a basis or a foundation for why they do or don’t do particular things. Beyond basics, they need to know why we tell them or instruct them the way we do. [I see I failed to originally share that our love for and thanks to the LORD is the foundation or the ‘why’ behind the way we go. Otherwise, we’d just be training the flesh to comply.]
From an early age they are learning about virtues, faith, honour, trust and obedience… behaviours of civility and self control and soon they move into reflecting moral understanding and to developing disciplines of responsibility and order and discretion. In time, they start to more deeply grasp the basis for morality along with a personal responsibility for actions, decisions and the benefits and consequences of attention or neglect.
Repetition. Repetition. Repetition – we pray the repetition results in a fruitful life – a life fully yielded to the LORD.