Having four children has made me realize more than ever that I cannot do everything on my own.  Of course, I couldn’t do it all by myself even before I had children but back then I was too proud and stubborn to acknowledge that fact.  My children have humbled me in so many ways. Puke and poop and comments like “mommy, why do you always groan when you get up” will do that.  The most important humbling thing they have taught me though is this: it is okay to accept help; even sometimes to ask for it.  As a parent I cannot stand it when I see them struggling with something I would willingly help with.  In fact “help” is one of the first signs we teach our children when they are young.  There is a story I like about a father watching his son trying to move a heavy object.  The little boy is clearly frustrated from the trying when the father asks, “Are you using all your strength?”  The boy, exasperated, replies, “Yes!”  and the father answers, “No, you’re not.  I’m standing right here.”

This week ladies from our homeschool coop are bringing dinners for my family.  Ten years ago I would have refused the offer.  I can do it myyy self.  Five years ago I would have refused but wished that I weren’t too proud to accept.  This week I accept their blessing gratefully.  There is no shame in walking this life holding the hands of others.  Indeed it’s what makes the walking worthwhile.

*p.s. no time to proofread this post.  Hoping it makes sense.

Brother asked to pray the prayer at supper this evening.

“Dear Lord, thank you for this food.  Thank you that we had a good day at school today. Help us to be sharable people and to love You most of all.  Amen”

So sweet.  I laughed a little to myself at the “sharable people” part but as I reflected upon it more I realized how inspired his request was. Tonight is not the first time this week such an idea has knocked at my door. 

Our church is reading the book Primal together.  I’m not certain where everyone else is but I’ve finally made it past Chapter 3 where the author talks about money.  “Where your treasure is there your heart will be also” and all that.  I am convicted.  Will and I have always been givers.  Since our marriage began we have never not tithed and I truly believe that simple decision is directly responsible for the blessing we experience now.  But I am convicted nonetheless because several years ago we discussed reaching what Mark Batterson calls a “income ceiling”.  We concluded that if our income ever reached what seemed at the time an unattainably high number that would be all we’d need.  Everything beyond it we would probably just give to missions or something.  I am convicted because our income is now almost twice that number but we don’t give half of it to “missions or something” … not even close.  To be fair, our family has more than doubled since our original discussion so, of course, expenses have increased but the real question is not about the logistics of the matter.  The real question is about my heart. Is it a sharable one? Really?  Because if a sharable heart is one that is chasing after God and His desires then I don’t want to just share.  I want to share outrageously.  And I’m not … yet. 

But my prayer tonight is this: that God will not only show me ways to cut our expenses so that money can be redirected to Kingdom causes but also to help me re-align my priorities to match His desires instead of my own.

Dear Lord, help me to be a sharable person and to love You most of all.  Amen

Today I am thankful for
    A baby that sleeps through the morning chatter.
        Morning chatter.
    Bathroom hand towels rakishly askew.
        A little boy with things to do and scant time for neatness.

Today I am thankful for
    Room on a bed for fifteen stuffed friends piled high
            ~ guardians against monsters and other scary things ~
        and the growing little girl underneath it all.
            Also, a home with no monsters.

Today I am thankful for
    A man of fierce commitment.
        A love that is steady.
            Strong arms and character.
        Blue eyes and 11 years of weak knees.

But mostly
    this Thanksgiving
        I am thankful for outstanding friends
    who are doing all the work.

Hmm…

If you happen to sponsor a child through Compassion International then you’ve probably already seen this video.  If you don’t (and why not?) then please take 11 minutes to reflect on all the good that can come from being unfair.

Why are these three words so difficult to utter?  Today I stumbled upon this short quip that got me to thinking.

A little boy was having difficulty lifting a heavy stone. His father came along just then. Noting the boy’s failure, he asked, “Are you using all your strength?”

“Yes, I am,” the little boy said impatiently.

“No, you are not,” the father answered. “I am right here just waiting, and you haven’t asked me to help you.”

Author Unknown

I am like this.  Most of us are.  Why is that?

Remember that slogan.   It implied that technology could bring us closer together.  That it would close the gap between far away families and friends.

Tonight, Will ran into the video store to pick up a movie.  The children and I waited in the car.  It’s much faster that way.  So we’re sitting there when the pickup two spaces down starts laying on the horn.  It’s occupied by a couple of down-home country boys and the object of their honking? is a twenty something woman inside the dollar store.  She looks out the window at them.  Clearly annoyed, she mouths some words their direction in that exaggerated way people do when they’re talking through glass.  Something about “over there” and “can’t”.  That’s all I caught.  Apparently our good ole boys caught even less because she shakes her head, heaves a sigh and whips out her cell phone.  Some part of me felt as if I were eavesdropping and should look away out of courtesy but I was fascinated by the unfolding drama.  Angrily her thumbs began to move with lightning speed.  There was a pause.  Clearly she did not like the return message.  The thumbs took off again.  There was another pause.  She looked up and out the window, giving a look which roughly translated means, “you are an idiot” and headed off toward the back of the store.

This scenario was wrong on so many levels I almost don’t know where to start.  Since when is it too difficult to take twenty steps to communicate.  “Reach out and touch someone?”  More like “withdrawal and text.”  Forget Math and Science, Grammar or History, if I can only teach one thing as a homeschooling parent let it be how to talk.  Let it be how to communicate ones own thoughts in an clear yet engaging way.  Let it be how to truly listen to the words of others.  Let it not be how to rely on technology to the point of ignorance.

A local art show hosts featuring all sorts of professional art and music hosts a youth gallery as well.  In years past I’ve not paid much attention to the event but this year Sister is old enough to enter and (wonder of wonders) actually wanted to enter.  Even so she seemed reluctant to share any of the art she’s done in the past deeming each piece imperfect in some way or another AND she seemed reluctant to create any new pieces held back by an invisible thread of fear that they too would fall short of perfection.  Finally she produced a simple pencil sketch of a goose head that while great for a sketch didn’t really qualify as an art show entry.  It lay on my desk for a couple of days.  I was unsure how to tell her that an art show entry deserved more time than the 3 to 5 minutes she’d spent…. or even if I should tell her.  I had no suggestions for something better and I did want to support her effort - slight though it was.  Then lying in bed last night just before sleep overtook all thought, it came to me - a project divided into small pieces so as not to overwhelm; a subject she consistently drew with confidence and a chance to use most every medium in our arsenal.

The finished piece consists of nine 5″x5″ squares and the word “Heart!” mounted on a 16″ x 20″ piece of matte board. 

Descriptions from right to left and top to bottom:

Watercolor heart, Bead “necklace”, Humpty-Heart Dumpty in ink and colored pencil

Clown heart in marker and foil shapes, a sunset scene in chalk,  Curly cue Heart done with markers that change color

Checkered heart in crayon, Glitter heart, and Pipe cleaner with colored pencil border.

Though I cut out the letters she’d drawn and mounted the finished squares Sister completed the rest of the project on her own.  (That is to say she did all the drawing and gluing and such while I sat nearby and praised each artistic choice.)  She started at 9am and we delivered the finished work at 4:25.  She was so proud.  I was proud that we made it through an eight hour project together without a major meltdown and from the experience I gleaned these nuggets:

Lesson #1 - It may seem a little thing to the untrained eye but this artwork represents a great accomplishment.  Sister would never have stuck with an ordinary project of that size but somehow because each portion was so small and because the goal of each was clearly defined she worked with gusto and was even heard to say, “Mom, I’m glad you thought of this!  It’s so much fun.” …. more than once.  This is important lesson for me - the mom, the teacher to understand.  I am comfortable with large tasks finding it easy to organize the parts.  Goals in my world are rarely unclear or poorly defined.  But these skills do not come easy to everyone.  To some they must be taught … cultivated - Sister is one of these.

Lesson #2 - Sister is so social that tasks done alone are drudgery but I can easily make a task worth doing or even fun simply by being present and engaged.  For a mom, who like most mothers, is a multi-tasker extroidonaire sitting in one place doing “nothing” but offering encouragement to a single soul seems like a waste of resources but it is important nonetheless.  In fact, it is far more important than the laundry left undone and the dishes in the sink.

Lesson #3 - Variety is the Spice of Life or Ditching School Makes Things Fun.  This one I knew but it bears repeating.  The curriculum is great as a guide but all work and no play makes Jack a very dull boy indeed.  Sister enjoyed the day because it was different and I enjoyed it because she was happy.

Considering the speed of light (299792.458 km/s) and that it takes approximately 50 bajillion years for light traveling at said speed to go the distance from the nearest star to Earth, can you imagine the planning it took to insure that the Star of Bethlehem’s** appearance coincided with a single baby’s birth? 

Sort of puts a whole new spin on Jeremiah 29:11.

“For I know the plans I have for you,”
declares the Lord,
“plans to prosper you and not to harm you,
plans to give you hope and a future.”

**more thoughts

In one of my first acting classes the professor assigned this improv exercise.  “You are going on a trip - a week long cruise.  Pantomime packing in a way that represents your personality.”  It seems I was the fifth or sixth student perform but I could have easily gone first.  I knew exactly what I would do for I had (up to that point) always packed for a trip in exactly the same way.  Sitting quietly for several minutes with a notepad close at hand I’d jot down a packing list.  Then, trusting the list as gospel, I’d pull out each outfit and miscellaneous item arranging them on my bed by expected day of use.  Once satisfied with the groupings I’d carefully pack everything into a bag and sit it by the door.  All of this would, of course, be done at least one if not two days ahead of the actual trip.  And I’d never - ever stay up late the night before. 

My, oh my, how things change.  Tomorrow Today we leave for our first real family vacation ever.  (We’re spending 3 days here.)  Of the four people going, I am responsible to pack for three of them yet there is no bag sitting patiently by the front door.  Instead between all the “Honey, can you…?”s and “Mama, I need…”s, I spent the day clearing out my inbox and the evening playing this game and this one too.  It will be just past midnight when I click the publish button but I am not worried.  I know things will turn out well because they always do and that’s the real change.  The young me that packed so systematically did so out of fear and worry and because she felt compelled to control every detail lest life try to move forward without her permission.  The now me accepts that life always moves forward and riding the flow is so much more enjoyable … not to mention more exciting.