Being That Parent

After three weeks of coughing, fevers, antibiotics, ear infections, and general all around malaise, we were eager to head for the door.  One caveat for time in the out of doors with the Faithful Five should be illness.

 

When I was a girl, I freely roamed our little piece of the Appalachian Mountains.  I climbed and hiked and explored and breathed in the earth, air, and water of my ancestors like it was my very life.  It flows deep in my veins though with six in tow I rarely get there these days.  I had long talks with the beautiful Creator as leaves crunched beneath my feet and the breeze lifted my hair.  I firmly believe if this world, as Edwards says, is just a foretaste of heaven that I will not be able to stand in the presence of the original Glory.  Glory Himself.  It brings tears to my eyes just at the thought of such a great Creator, who would give me a such gracious glimpse of himself.  I groan along with all creation, "Come, Lord Jesus.  Come."

 

I cherish the fact that my parents gave me that freedom to know creation so intimately in solitude.  And I've had to ask myself, can I be that kind of a parent? 

 

Yes.  Yes, I can.

 

This boy of mine has taken to his bike and had exceeded anything I expected and has awed me with his spunk.  He rode to the dam, twelve miles from our house. 

 

Did I stalk him just a little?  You bet I did.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Atelier (A Room Update)

I really should wait until all the painting is finished and make a far bigger deal of this reveal (actually staging it would be nice), but I just couldn't wait to share my husband's latest  creation for us.  We are loving this desk!  And it was so easy (for me watching from across the room in my big comfy chair). 

My crew just won't get on board with calling this space the atelier, a sweet word inspired by Mariah.  It just has a certain je ne sais quoi (thank you, one year of high school French).  But, sigh, this will always be "the school room." 

A little glimpse at the other side of the room.  I love that the Navigator framed the chalk board so that little hands know where to stop with all the creativity.  I took a tip from Angela on map placement around the thermostat. Oh, and the shameless self-promotion.  The outlet will eventually be brown.

A Lesson from the Crabs

Our first night here, the boys discovered the delights of nocturnal life on the beach.   Crabs!

Not so long ago, I discovered the joys of Thornton Burgess, a naturalist who had a masterful way with words.  If you haven't picked up on it yet, I have a thing for writers who combine my love for the outdoors and writing- and happen to be dead.  Burgess weaves a biology lesson into story, and before you know it, you are learning the natural way.   A relationship of life and learning is formed.

That first night after the sand was washed away, pajamas were donned, and all were snuggled down, I pulled out Mr. Burgess for Little Bug in an attempt to calm his overstimulated state.  Having never read this book, I no idea the orchestration of a new relationship that was about to take place.  In the first page, we were all, including the teens, engrossed in a story about a country mouse visiting the beach, and his first night was a discovery of the world of, you guessed it, crabs. 

Little Bug was fast asleep, but the older kids were interjecting their own story line:

"That's just what we saw!"

"Yeah, when I found that one crab, it looked just like that."

"Oh, that explains why that crab did that."

Masterful!

Just a note:  I am struggling profoundly right now with schooling and our upcoming year, with two entering high school.  Often my fear leads to my overloading my children with busy work and more traditional methods of "school".  These five weeks away are my husband's gift to me-to step away from it all and get some perspective.  Our first night was just what I needed.  Natural learning engages even the most stubborn of minds, no matter how old.

Making a Masterpiece of Me

Creation is all around right now. 

The gentle whirring of machines sewing. 
The weaving of tales.
The releasing of books.
The kneading of bread.
The splashing of paint on canvas.
The carving deep into soft wood.
The pushing of tender shoots through soil. 
The click, click, clicking of the shutter. 

And yet, my hands can't seem to get here to my small space to tap away my words.   The creative world spins, and I am not allowed on board as my life twirls to a unique rhythm. 

I wonder why I can't get at my creating.  And Sunday's sermon does a little gentle tapping in my thoughts:  "The Object of Worship-the Lord Our Creator and Re-Creator."

I seem to fancy myself a creator of sorts. A weaver of the intermingling of life and words and, I hope, some Truth.  But, as I gaze back across these two weeks, I come into focus a bit more, not as the creator but the created. 

My Re-Creator has been hard at work in making a new canvas of me, and he means to make a masterpiece.  He set out clearing away the old junk that resembles a velvet Elvis in a gallery of high art and replacing the faded colors with a fresh pallate and medium, a new heart on which His life, His desires are splashed across every inch of taut fabric.

The breaking of the old frame and stretching tight the clean fabric across expanded, healed joints isn't comfortable, but, oh, how I have longed for the change and have echoed the cries of Po in Kung Fu Panda, "How are you gonna make me NOT me?"

How would He choose to make a masterpiece of my low end, cheap imitation of His holiness?

Not through books or blogs or some comfortable armchair way.  Not even through some high and lofty exhibition of great sacrifice.  But through the discipline of service in the small things.  The uncomfortable things.  The simple things.  The smaller daily constant sacrifices, little deaths to self as the creator.  The things we most avoid because they kill the flesh that fights tooth and nail to survive another day. 

But I am learning that the promise of resurrection is hidden within the death.  That while I see all that isn't, He sees all that is, all He is making of me.  A masterpiece.

A Prayer for Spring

The Dancer is growing into a photographer in her own right.  I captured her in a state of wonder last week.  My heart smiled large.  And wept just a little at the child she is no more.  At the woman she is fast becoming.  At her seeing the greatness in the small movements of Spring slowly stretching and yawning and wiping Winter's slumber from her eyes.

A Prayer in Spring

Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers today;

And give us not to think so far away

As the uncertain harvest; keep us here

All simply in the springing of the year.

Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white,

Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night;

And make us happy in the happy bees,

The swarm dilating round the perfect trees.

And make us happy in the darting bird

That suddenly above the bees is heard,

The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill,

And off a blossom in mid air stands still.

For this is love and nothing else is love,

The which it is reserved for God above

To sanctify to what far ends He will,

But which it only needs that we fulfill.

~Robert Frost

The Best Blue {Ribbon} Banana Bread Ever

I happened to have three, bordering on gross bananas in my kitchen today, and what better way to use them than banana bread?  I have been eating, baking, using this recipe since my sister made it for the state fair way, way back when we were kids.  She won a blue ribbon and rightly so.  It is by far the best banana bread out there.  Always moist and always, always brings the family peering around the corner questioning, "Is it ready yet?"

I wish I knew the origin, but around here it's known as Aunt Ginny's Blue Ribbon Banana Bread and here's how it's done:

Soften one stick of butter or margarine. 
In a mixer,  mix in one cup of sugar. 
Add two eggs. 

Now the next part really depends on your personality.  If you are a gotta follow the way my mama taught me kind, then sift the dry ingredients before adding them.  If you lean toward being a cooking rebel, just dump it all in hodgepodge-like with the creamed mixture and mix away.

Whatever your style, you will need:

2 cups of all-purpose flour
1/2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. baking soda

Take three mushy, brown bananas (mushy=sweet banana goodness) and mash them with a potato masher.  If you like, enlist the help of your two year, who will take great delight in being free to destroy.  You can fold them in with a spoon or use the mixer.

Pour into a pregreased loaf pan and bake at 350. 

Now comes the hard part.  Let it bake and bake and bake until you think you will go crazy from the aroma.  Then, let it bake some more.  About an hour.  One maddening hour. 

Test it with a toothpick.  If it is still gooey in the center, endure a few more minutes.  Feel free to stick close by with your nose close to the glass if it helps you through the torturous additional time.

I don't advise letting it cool.  Just dive in.  Cut yourself a couple of slices (or four...or five) before you call the troops down and you are left with only this and a memory...

A Life Happens Space

Be forewarned.  This is not my typical kinda post.  Not my style.  Not my usual topics.  I apologize, I think.  I'm a little nervous to be honest.  The last time I deviated and wrote about homeschooling I lost several readers.  So, this time I'm combining decorating and homeschooling which may be the coup de grace for this little blog.  I'm feeling a little housy this week and thought I'd let you in on some of it if you're into that kind of thing. 

Five and a half years.  It's taken that long to get this space (almost) right.  It has been through many evolutions and migrations throughout the house.  The truth is we learn all over the house, all the time, so confining our day to one room seems, uh, confining. 

But...

I dreamed about this space when we first set out well over eight years ago and lived in a tiny two bedroom apartment.  Three kids shared the master bedroom, stacked one atop the other in bunk beds and a make shift trundle.   School was everywhere.  Books, books, books. 

Not much has changed except that everywhere just got bigger. (Another story of growth in my understanding of God.  Someday).   We bought this house with the open loft upstairs intending for it to be a school room, but who was I kidding?  We were never gonna use little desks lined up around a chalkboard.  

Right after we moved in, the Navigator left for Iraq for two years. Not to worry.  He was a contractor and came home every three months or so.  Anyway, he started our bookshelves on his two week leave.  Then, he left.  He came home again and tweaked them.  Then, he left.  Oh, you get the picture.  It's tough to work hard and still try to squeeze in a little more hard work on your vacation. 

In the meantime, the room really was neglected.  No one wanted to be in it.  If it weren't for the computer, she would never have seen a soul.

Several years later.  They were done and stunning (thank you, honey!), and I've been moving furniture and spray painting like a mad woman.  She still isn't finished, but now life happens in this little one-window space.  All the way down to the oil pastels (lellows, as Little Bug calls them--nope, no idea) on the slipcover and the dragons pacing for their meals.

A little slice of our life happens space:

(Somebody please help me with my exposure issues with my camera skills)

My husband's gorgeous handiwork.  See the scorpion third shelf on the right.  Yeah.  We're trying to be friends.  If only he would stop clawing at the cage behind me while I type at night.  Also, note the lellows on the ottoman.  That red chair was in my mom's house growing up.  Love it.

                              Can you see that cute Little Bug tucked away?  There is no extra charge for cuteness.

My thrifted spray painted table next to my thrifted still-awaiting (three years)-a-proper-slipcover chair.

Some spray paint and a template from Emily at Jones Design Company transformed this frame the Archer dragged up the hill from a neighbor's trash pile.  I've trained that boy right.  Homeschool days well spent.

The girls greet you as you come up the stairs.  (again with the lighting...and the pacing)

Cute baby toes. 



Fanning the Flame: To Teach You Must Be a Student

Under a golden canopy we walked, seeking treasures for the approaching Advent season, and amid the lingering evidence of fall, a harbinger lay.

Overcast.  Cool.  Air so heavy with moisture we could hear it dropping through the leaves.   The earth crackled and snapped under our feet.  We found more than we came to see.  One small delight after another.  Tiny hidden treasures.  A resident disturbed by our presence scurried off to safety.   A lost cap.  A tiny reservoir.

I whisper,  "Look as closely as possible for surprises you may walk over if you aren't careful."

Near the end of our short journey, we came upon an unknown .  Strange but completely engaging.  We were spellbound and lingered over this mystery.

Once home, the computer became our guide to unlocking our new find.  Tremella Fuciformis!  (Snow fungus: a delicacy in Asian cuisine)  I was completely hooked.  Not on the tremella.  On learning!

I've known the spark before in scattered moments earlier in my own formal education.  But this spark is significant because underneath it holds the real jewel: a transforming discovery.

After darkness fell and hid our world of treasures, over grated cheese and ground beef,  it came to me, not as a slow drip as so many of my thoughts do over a long simmer but as a flash.   My tendency along this road of home education has been to think that I teach by teaching, by knowing, by being master of a subject.  I have been involved in the education of my children but only from a distance, as an administrator of assignments, information, and "constructive criticism" all with an end product in mind. 

But, our Guide has graciously been revealing a valuable truth to me over the weeks:  We teach most through learning ourselves, being a student with our children.  Always.  They will watch our enthusiasm, join with us, and take in all we are learning as we share it with them.  Life long learning is the process of discovery, learning, exploration, stumbling over an unknown, and, yes, making mistakes together.

Learning, after all, isn't confined to twelve years in "school"...or to academic subjects.  Education really is about our walk with Him, and we are each His disciples along the Way.  

He whispers to me, "Keep your eyes open and be careful where you walk.  You don't want to trample any treasures."