Mommy Meltdown

I don't think I cried when our van broke down this past summer and we were without her for a month. (Well, maybe I did, but that's a distant memory). However, I did cry this past weekend when our washing machine broke. (Could I be pregnant?)

We wash three to four loads of laundry a day around here, so when the washer decided she was done being my domestic servant, I had a meltdown. I tried to coax her into taking her old job back. At seven years old and a bijillion loads of laundry rendered, I figured her brain was just getting a bit tired. I reset her computer several times in the hopes that I'd jog her memory as to how not just to start, but to actually finish a load of laundry, but to no avail. She would stop mid-cycle and refuse to go on. "Please, I beg you. You must go on!" Nope. Not gonna do it.
Matt and my dad took her apart on Sunday afternoon. Matt replaced her motherboard (we had an extra in the basement) on Monday morning. A new brain would certainly help (I know it would most certainly help me). Nope. Didn't help. Alright. Time to call in the big guns--the dreaded appliance service guy. You know, the guy who charges $45 just show up at your front door. So $100 later he found the broken part. He ordered the part--a pressure switch--and it arrived today. Matt replaced it after he got home from work.

My domestic servant is back, though she's a little quirky with her new brain and all. I'll just have to get used to that because these days, good help is hard to find. At least we'll all have clean underwear now.

The Eldest Boy is Now 9

We celebrated Paul's ninth birthday on Sunday with Grandpa Tom, Grandma Jane, Auntie Em and cousin Raphaella. Paul chose ham for his birthday dinner and chocolate cake (surprise, surprise) for dessert.Paul's actual birthday was Monday, so I took the kids to the park to play late in the afternoon. They got their swinging, sliding and water wading fix which will have to last them through the winter. Our favorite park is closed from Oct. 1 through Apr. 1. It sure hasn't felt like Fall around here, with temperatures reaching almost 90 degrees every day. I sure am glad I'm behind in the bi-yearly seasonal clothes switch. The kids have utilized their shorts over the past few days, which has been a blessing. Our washer broke this past weekend and nobody has had any clean jeans left to wear.

Anyway, Paul is now a year older and wiser (sometimes).

Brain Filling Vs. Relationship Building

When I first started homeschooling, I knew nothing about what I was really getting into. I had a friend and a sister-in-law who both held Masters in Education degrees and both of them told me, "homeschooling is a completely different animal [than classroom teaching]." All I knew for sure was that the Lord would be teaching me a lot more than I would be teaching my children--and He has.

As a new homeschooler, I jumped on the first band wagon that came my way. I heard one of the big proponents of "classical education" speak at the very first homeschool conference Matt and I ever attended. Having graduated from college with a BA in English Literature, I was completely smitten with this woman. She had an unbelievable grasp of the English language (in both the written and spoken word) and she was (and still is) an English professor at a prestigious university. She also was home educated. I naively thought, "If I follow the program this woman has laid out to the letter, my kids will turn out just like her."

Fast forward two months into my first year of homeschooling. Nearly every book I read to the children from this woman's list of "must reads" was a disaster. I had to keep stopping to explain to my then seven and four year olds, "That's not what God says in the Bible." Finally the Holy Spirit got through to me and I returned the offending books to the library and put the books I had purchased high on the book shelf. For the rest of that year, our curriculum consisted mainly of Bible reading.

In the years since, Matt and I have tried, to the best of our ability to make God's Word our top priority in our homeschool. At the expense of other "good" activities, we've made family participation in Bible study our number one goal. That's not to say we're perfect, but God has honored our intention to put Him in first place in our family. We concentrated on the Truth, with the belief that our kids would someday be able to discern Truth from error. Bank tellers who handle real money all day every day can easily tell when a counterfeit bill passes through their hands. Matt and I are beginning to see the fruit that this method of teaching produces.

This past summer Grace read Homer's The Odyssey and she actually enjoyed it. (All I remember about that book was how much I hated it.) I knew she was capable of discerning that Greek mythology was just that--mythology--but I still questioned her, just to be sure. "Grace, you know that people really believed that stuff, but you know it's not true, right?" "Of course I do, Mom," was her reply. Just checking.

Our family recently heard a pastor who incorporated some pagan materials and philosophy into his sermon. Grace turned to me and gave me a look like, "What on earth is this guy talking about?" She had spotted the counterfeit right away because she knew the "real deal."

All that to say this, the Lord has taught Matt and me that the relationships we build with our children and the relationship we help our children to build with Jesus Christ are preeminent. The Greeks and Romans, whose educational methods form the foundation of classical education, saw education as simply the filling of the brain with facts, figures, grammar rules, dates in history, etc. (This is a simplified definition of classical education, for a more thorough definition click here.)

The Hebraic model of education is much different. God says, "Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one. You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might. And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise." Deut. 6:4-7

In the above passage, the teaching occurs all day, within the context of the parent/child relationship. The Lord showed Matt and me very early on, that this is what He had in mind for our homeschool. In many ways, it has been the most natural thing in the world, an extension of what we had already been doing with our children since they were teeny tiny. On the other hand, Matt and I have questioned ourselves at times. We've even been questioned by others about our methods of teaching. The Lord has been patient to show me how much the pursuit of education has been an idol in my life. That's not to say that Matt and I view education as bad and that we don't pursue academics at all with our children, obviously we do. It's just to say that education in and of itself is not the end all and be all.

As a friend and I were talking on the phone recently, we both agreed that the bottom line reason we are homeschooling is this: that our children would name Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior, no matter what the cost. If that means that our kids aren't academic superstars, winning national spelling bees and the like, then so be it. Our children are eternal beings with eternal souls. The world and Satan clamor to tell us otherwise, to tell us that there are much more important things that need our attention, including a world class education. Jesus said, "What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul? Matt. 16:26

Grace's Photos

I like this one. -matt

Fest 2010

We Love Shots

I took Lydia, Joel and Jude to the pediatrician's office today. All three children needed one immunization each. Lydia was first. She didn't cry when she got her shot and she got a sucker when she was done. After witnessing his sister's good fortune, Jude quickly lifted his sleeve so that he could get his shot, too. Alas, it was Joel's turn next. Joel didn't cry when he got poked and then he got a sucker. By this time, Jude was lifting up his sleeve, making monkey noises and jumping up and down. Finally, Jude got his chance. He whimpered a bit when the shot went into his arm, but quickly recovered when he got his long-awaited sucker. The doctor's staff were all quite impressed. What can I say-- my kids love shots.

Faith or Fear?

I had another ultrasound last Friday. Normally, I would not have an ultrasound at twenty five weeks, but it was per my doctor's orders. My twenty week ultrasound showed that all was well with the baby, except for one thing--the doctor spotted a bit of fluid around the baby's heart. He told me not to worry, but that he did want to check the baby's heart in another month.

The doctor also told me he could refer me to a specialist, if I so desired. I asked him what the benefit of an early diagnosis would be. He said the only benefit would be if I decided I wanted to abort the baby. We had just seen our sweet baby's face on the ultrasound. He already looks like his brothers. My doctor knows me well. I flatly said, "No way." He told me he was in agreement with me. (I do so love my doctor. He is very pro-life. He also isn't one bit flummoxed when I refuse all the genetic testing they like to do these days. He knows as well as I do that the tests often produce false positives. He also knows that the tests will not change my mind about continuing with a pregnancy.)

I tried not to worry while I waited during the weeks before the second ultrasound. I tried to talk to myself logically. "I won't worry until there is something to worry about." Yet as the time grew nearer for the ultrasound, I did worry. I had bad dreams about the baby needing heart surgery in utero. I woke up during the night and begged the Lord that all would be well with baby's heart. I also thought about the man Jesus healed who was blind from birth.

And his disciples asked him, "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?" Jesus answered, "It was not that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be displayed in him." John 9:2-3

I was quite nervous the day before the ultrasound. That evening, I listened to Selah sing, "Be Still My Soul." I climbed into bed, said a prayer and rested peacefully all night. As Matt drove me to my appointment, I was quiet, but I was at peace. I waited past my appointment time in the doctor's office and I was still at peace. When I finally did get into the room and the new and inexperienced technician began the ultrasound, I still was at peace.

When the more experienced ultrasound tech took over, she zeroed in on baby's heart. I'm no expert, but I didn't see the fluid around his little beating heart anymore. Matt and I even got to see baby yawn. So precious. Life! Not a blob of tissue or a fetus, but a baby.

While I waited to see my doctor and go over the results of the ultrasound with him, I was at peace. When he did eventually burst into the room, he announced, "Everything looks great! The baby's heart is normal!" Thank you, Jesus.

Matt and I are so grateful to the Lord for the mercy He has shown us. Truly we are fearfully and wonderfully made. Yet, if our baby was diagnosed as having heart problems, we would have loved our baby and our Jesus just the same, because "in every change, He faithful will remain."

Bouncing Boy

This blue bouncing ball has been in our family for the better part of thirty years. I'm not kidding. I remember bouncing on it as a small girl at my Grandma and Grandpa's house. All the cousins enjoyed it and eventually it got passed down to our family. Jude, not to be outdone by his older siblings, has insisted on bouncing as of late. He's really too small for the bouncy ball, but he tries anyway.

He mounts and dismounts by steadying himself against the kitchen cabinets. Normally, one would bounce in a forward motion while riding the bouncy ball, but not Jude. Since he's still too small for the bouncy ball, he's had to figure out an unconventional method for riding it--he bounces by pushing backwards with his feet, not forward.

Womb Dancing

Last week as we drove home in the van after picking up our Gracie, we listened to Amy Grant's album, Legacy . . . Hymns and Faith. Our family favorite is the last song on the album, Marching to Zion. As we listened to that song, the baby lept in my womb. I said to Matt, "The baby likes this one." He said, "It's the bagpipes. He's a Macduff."

Cowboy Joel

Joel is really into cowboys right now. He wears his black cowboy hat (we had to convince him that good cowboys wear black hats, too) belt, cowboy boots and gun holster all the time. To church, to bed, even to a wedding we attended this past weekend.It used to bother him terribly that his belt had so much leather hanging loose at the end (because he's so skinny), but then he watched an old John Wayne movie with his big brother. Now he tells us that he likes his belt that way because that's the way John Wayne wears his belt.

When Joel doesn't want to try a new food at the dinner table, we simply say something like, "Cowboys love brussel sprouts, Joel," and he happily tries a bite. He may only try one bite, but at least he gives it a go, which he usually refuses to do.

Joel begins each morning with pleas for his big brother Paul to dress up like a cowboy, too. Paul usually complies by putting on his chaps, belt, hat and gun holster. After all, it's no fun being the only cowboy in the family.

The Boy in the Yellow Boots

Jude, not completely unlike his big sister, Grace (who was very attached to a pair of pink rubber boots as a toddler) has become very fond of a yellow rubber pair of boots. He puts them on his feet first thing in the morning. He has to have them forcibly removed for nap time and bed time. He often gets compliments on his snappy foot ware when we're out and about. Unlike his big sister, though, Jude prefers to be fully clothed (or pajamed) when he's wearing his boots.

We Have a Young Lady

Grace turned fifteen last week. As a parent, when you're drowning in spilled milk, bodily fluids and endless diaper changes, it's hard to believe what everyone says, "It goes by so fast." But it has. I can't believe Matt and I are the parents of a fifteen year old. Grace still has her fiery red hair, but she's traded her pink rubber boots and birthday suit (her favorite "outfit" as a toddler) for cowboy boots and long feminine skirts.

We celebrated Grace's birthday with both sets of grandparents on two different days. Grandpa Tom and Grandma Jane gave her tickets to go see the musical South Pacific with them in October. Grandma Dianne and Grandpa Bob gave her a Laura Ingalls Madame Alexander doll. We gave her the family camera, as she is now the official photographer of the family.
The day after her birthday, Grace got to go visit my Aunt Leanna and Uncle Keith for a couple of days. The small town in which they live is readying itself for its annual German festival. Grace got to help the Lutheran church ladies prepare approximately 550 apple strudel to sell at the event. The dough is rolled out paper thin and then covered with butter, cinnamon sugar and chopped apples. It's then rolled into a strudel and baked. It's quite a labor intensive process. Grace enjoyed working with all the women (and some men) of the church to prepare the special dessert.

Elizabeth and I finished off the canning while Grace was gone. The whole family went to pick Grace up and bring her home. We were all glad to have our level-headed red head back with us once again.

Quick Update

Our van--she's back and I'm very happy about that. Ahh--air conditioning.Canning. We've been doing a lot of it and we're relieved that we're done for the year.
School work. We started hitting the books again this week. Even little Joel worked on some math today with the help of his big sister, Elizabeth.