For the Love of Reading

Matt and I gave Paul a Nook for Christmas of 2011.  Upon first blush, the price of the Nook seemed a bit steep to us.  As we considered the purchase though, we realized we couldn't buy the number of books our boy was quickly plowing through for the price of the Nook.

As Paul's parents, we were encountering another problem--trying to find suitable reading material.  Our family has all but stopped using the library to check out books.  Most of the classics are being removed from library shelves and their replacements are most often twaddle (at best) or witchcraft (at worst).  I've amassed quite a library for us to use at home (mostly through yard sales and thrift stores), but Paul was reading so much I couldn't keep enough books on hand to satisfy him.

We went ahead and purchased the Nook and we are so glad we did.  Matt downloaded tons of free or nearly free classic books onto the Nook before we gave it to Paul.  We don't have to worry about quantity or quality.  We just let Paul read away.

When no one in the family can find Paul, we know he must be somewhere reading his Nook.  We purposely bought him the most basic model--the one without a back light and without internet access.  Even with these preventative features, Paul has been known to employ a good old fashioned flash light to assist him in forbidden late night reading.

So far, Paul has read thirty five of G. A. Henty's books.  Henty wrote historical fiction from a Christian world view.  When I recently asked Paul what Henty book was his favorite, he quickly named off half a dozen titles and then went on to say, "But, I also liked this one and that one and that one."  By Conduct and Courage is at the top of his list, but as I said, to pin down a true favorite is an impossible task.  The boy loves to read.  Since neither his father nor I loved reading at Paul's age, we're tickled he's enjoying it so much.  Now, if only we could figure out a way to cultivate such a love for math in the boy.

Strongholds & Havens

I had the privilege of attending the annual Wisdom House Bible Conference again this year.  Two girlfriends and I boarded a plane and headed to Texas at the beginning of May.  This year's conference theme was "Strongholds and Havens."

Mrs. Barbara Mouser taught a group of about forty women on Friday evening and most of the day on Saturday.  Her Bible teaching is definitely for those who have an appetite for meat.  Believe me when I say, one doesn't leave one of her conferences hungry.  It takes a good long while to digest what one has eaten there.  I've been mulling over the things I learned at the conference for the past month and a half and I still have much more mulling to do.

Mrs. Mouser began the conference by defining "strongholds" and "havens."  Strongholds are ordained by God to be built by men.  A stronghold is "a protected, secure place suitable for defense--keeping people, possessions, or ideas safe--and offense, launching attack against enemies."  God "hardwired" men for "rule, work and war."  Men build strongholds in marriage, family,  the government and the Church.  They defend good and fight against evil.

Women create havens.  "A haven is a safe place which offers rest, nurture, and healing.  Restoring people and maintaining the institutions of civilizations (accomplished almost exclusively through the training of the young) requires havens, that is, protected environments." 

One of my big take-aways from the conference was the absolute necessity of havens.  Our stronghold men need a haven of rest in which to find refuge after long days of hard work and defending God's truth (which according to the Doctrine of Vocation, can and does occur, even in the most mundane of jobs).  Children need a place to be raised in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.

Without havens, society collapses.  One of the lies of the feminist movement is that anyone can do the cooking, the cleaning, the decorating, the child training and the husband tending.  The fact is that God created each woman, with her unique talents and abilities, to create a home, to help her own husband and love her own children (and also to "create community and civilization" outside the family, as well as to "adorn and confirm the Word of God" within the Church.)   Havens are hand made and tailored by haven women to suit each family the Lord has created.  Factory assembled parts and pieces (drive thru dinners, house cleaning services, day care and so on) do not create havens.  My work as a woman at home not only matters, but it is essential.

"The stronghold does not long exist without its sustaining haven.  The haven does not long exist without its depending stronghold.  Man and woman are interdependent from God, but not interchangeable (1 Cor. 11:8-12)."

For most of the day on Saturday of the conference, we studied the stronghold man, David.  In the end, God stripped David of all of the earthly havens on which he depended and taught him to rely on Himself alone.  God is the ultimate Haven.  When we die to ourselves and find refuge (haven) in Jesus, we are "renewed in strength and God makes us more fruitful," for His glory.

One interesting comment that Mrs. Mouser made was about Mary, the mother of Jesus.  Mary was the God-ordained haven for the ultimate Stronghold.  I used to think of myself as the mother of girls.  My first two children and my fourth are girls and it seemed as they grew older, their needs were in many ways at the forefront of my mind.  I've spent many years studying biblical womanhood and trying to teach my girls God's great plan for them as women.  Yet, I'm soon to be the mother of five boys, whom I'm praying, by the grace of God, will become stronghold men someday.  Men who will fight to defend God's truth.  Men who will be willing to die, if necessary, to defend their families and Jesus' Bride, the Church.  To be sure, it is a holy calling, one which only God and God alone can equip me to do.

In the coming months and years, I'll continue to meditate on the many scriptures and thoughts Mrs. Mouser presented to us at the conference.  One thing about God's Word is that one never reaches the end of it.

Incidentally, the very next day after arriving home from the conference, I spied my littles playing in the back yard.  The boys were wearing their coon skin caps and hiding behind the Arborvitae, their play guns up next to their faces as they squinted to get their "enemies" in their guns' sights.  Just then, my apron-clad Lydia emerged from the play house and yelled, "Dinner!"  I thought, "There it is."  It is truly "hardwired."  We are strongholds and havens, created to be so by an Almighty God.  

The Hippity Hop's Demise

My grandma and grandpa bought a Hippity Hop jumping ball over thirty five years ago.  I've always called it "the bouncy ball."  I remember jumping all around my grandparents' house on the bouncy ball.  My siblings and cousins did, too.  Eventually, the bouncy ball found its way into my family.

For about ten years, seven of our kids, plus countless other children, have had hours of fun on the bouncy ball.  Bouncy balls are still being manufactured, but they ain't what they used to be.  Our bouncy ball was made of thick rubber--almost like a tire.  It was indestructible.  Or so I thought.  About a week ago, one of our children, who shall remain nameless, but who is our most stubborn child, decided he should poke holes in the bouncy ball with a mechanical pencil.

Momma wasn't pleased.
Daddy had to do the disciplining of said child because Momma was too mad to be reasonable.  I was unreasonably angry because there was a lot of sentimentality attached to that toy.  The child was repentant, but the bouncy ball is no more.

My only consolation is that I found a Rody Horse a couple of weeks ago at a yard sale for $5.  I've been wanting one of these for our kids, but I couldn't justify the price tag for just one toy.  I never thought I'd find one at a yard sale.  It was a God thing.  Our two little boys have been having a blast with the horse.

Yet, I miss the bouncy ball.  It was big enough for bigger kids to use, the Rody horse isn't.  If my grandparents were still alive, I'm sure they'd be surprised, but delighted that the bouncy ball lasted as long as it did and that it provided so much joy to so many of their progeny.  It's hard to let go of the things--and the people--we love. 

Jude's Poor Ear

Jude got mixed up with a wasp on Saturday.  He was helping his Daddy load firewood into our trailer way out in the country.  Jude obviously disturbed the wasp's hiding place, because it released it's fury on Jude's ear.  Again. Poor guy.

When the guys arrived back home, Matt gave Jude oral Benedryl and applied topical Benedryl to the bite itself, but the medicine didn't seem to help much.  Yesterday morning when he awoke, Jude's ear was at least two times its normal size and his cheek and neck were swollen, too.  He looked like Alfred E. Neuman.  A few people at church noticed, but Jude didn't notice that they noticed.  Today his ear is looking more like it normally does.  By tomorrow, I expect it to be completely healed.

I don't know what it is about boys and their ears, but they seem to have ears that are really attractive to bugs.