Thursday, May 24, 2012

A Cautionary Post

I'm a homeschool mom.

This is a title I have claimed for over a decade, through two graduations, and countless joys and tears . . mine and my pupils'.

Homeschooling like most parenting decisions can be a "sticky-wicket." I also chose to breast feed my first baby when it was just regaining popularity, had two of my six babies in a birthing center, stayed at home with my six kids for the most part, ground my own wheat for bread and attempted to make yogurt. 



I tend to be idealistic.

Over the years, I've had a lot of success and just as much failure. I've learned that ideals can be a source of motivation and inspiration or condemnation and discouragement. They make good servants but poor masters. When I hold to them humbly, they serve me and my family well. But when my ambition turns to pride and my ideals take the driver's seat, they can take us to perilous places.

I'm glad we've homeschooled our kids. The time together and family culture we've created through homeschooling has been a blessing to us in many ways. But after thirteen years, I've found some pitfalls and even dug myself out of a few.

In an effort to help others possibly avoid the pits I didn't, I wrote this "letter" a couple years ago. It's written from the perspective of a senior demon to his pupil, which is the same perspective C.S. Lewis used in "The Screwtape Letters." (You should read it, if you haven't. If you have, you should read it again! Go here for a description.)

My hope is that this letter would challenge, encourage, and equip you to be a better parent whatever ideals you hold to, homeschooling or other.



My Pitiable Muggleword,

I received your frantic message and have considered it fully. While your concern (bordering on paranoia) is understandable, you MUST CALM DOWN. Yes, I understand the threat is real. Your patient's recent embarkment on this endeavor they call "homeschooling" may at first seem quite intimidating. Especially when she flanks her efforts with such gaudy words as "discipleship," "nurture," and "Christian Education." But take it from me, our arsenal is fully supplied when it comes to dealing with "homeschoolers."

Consider first the size of the task. So long as you keep the spectacle of institutionalized education ever before your patient, she will continually shrink back or forge passionately ahead steamrolling all in her way. Keep her ignorant of the insidious fact we have spent years trying to bury . . that the Enemy created these pitiful creatures with both intellect AND appetite and, given a loving environment, their intellect will grow as naturally as their bodies. You must endeavor to quickly make a home for the idol of academia in her house as we have in schools. Faced with the fear of failure, it has been my experience that mothers will bow readily sacrificing relationships, faith, and that sickening sense of peace in a home which a mother who trusts the Enemy so easily creates.

The weapons which serve these purposes are many. For instance comparison, which always leads the patient to weigh her weaknesses against another's strengths resulting in despair OR her strengths against another's weaknesses resulting in a false sense of pride. Strive to instill the sense of superiority so commonly found in homeschoolers, especially the novice. Follow this up quickly with inferiority when she inevitably encounters more experienced and superior homeschoolers. Superiority or inferiority, either state will serve our purposes and render your patient harmless.

Oddly enough, curriculum is another useful weapon. As the patient spends hour upon hour seeking the course of study that will be "just right" for her children, her dependence upon her choice will grow steadily. Add to that the considerable monetary investment and this weapon becomes practically autonomous. For any human will defend and fight for that in which they are invested. As she comes to homeschooling with both time and money invested in her curriculum and then experiences the inevitable resistance of her children, she will in turn fight for and defend books. The passion we've known to motivate the self-sacrificial love the Enemy instilled in mothers since time began can easily be manipulated so that, instead of defending her children, she attacks them when they impede the plan she has so carefully orchestrated late into the night while her precious ones slumbered.

Goals. Turn all her sincere desires, both spiritual and academic, into lofty goals. In so doing, you will move her from a position of humble hope and prayerful petition to aggressive ambition and demand. Cause her to assume responsibility not only for her chidren's academics, but for their attitudes, character, obedience; all of which, while forever under her influence, are completely outside her control. Thereby, you will entangle her with frustration, anger, and ultimately resentment.

Finally, fear. Fear, fear, fear. The Enemy himself knows how humans are given to fear. Over and over in His letter to them He placates them with the exhortation, "Do not fear." So you must scream it louder! Fear has the potential to undermine the "noblest" of your patient's efforts. Pervert the human instinct for self-preservation, and your patient will commit even heinous sin in the name of protection of her children. Fear is the fertile ground for every seed of destruction. Strife, screaming, abuse, even hatred will grow like weeds that choke the life out of a mother and a home.

But I must warn you, should your patient ever discover and with putrid humility embrace the truth that she is merely a vessel who has been chosen by the Enemy for a "noble" use, to pour out knowledge with grace, then you are in great danger. For it is this position, humble, dependent, and even broken, in which the Enemy finds His most useful and influential vessels. You must keep your patient from this stance. Fill her with pride and ambition or guilt and despair. Either will work. But do not let her believe that there is anything relevant beyond her own plans and efforts and the unfettered cooperation of her spouse and children with said plans. For if she does, she will discover the despicable provision and love of the Enemy who is forever working His fiendish will in the midst of our patient's seeming successes and failures.

Be diligent, Muggleword. The influence of the patient upon her children is potent, due simply to the combination of being "mother" and the multitude of hours spent together. It is your duty to exploit this influence to the ruin of all involved.

Sincerely,
Acadamius








Saturday, May 12, 2012

Mothers Day

Tomorrow. It will be an emotional day no doubt.

For some full of joy. Maybe their first with arms full of babe and hearts overwhelmed by wonder.

Sadness will mark the day for others. Disappointment. Barren wombs. Tiny coffins. Estranged hearts.

For most a mix. Surprises, unmet expectations. Trepidatious husbands trying their best to not disappoint. To express somehow appreciation for what they could never give. Giddy children with humble gifts, burnt toast, and kisses. Or maybe they'll forget. It happens.

I've known twenty-one Mothers Days. Some I love to remember. Others I'd rather not.

The best are the ones I turned into 

THANKSGIVING

My own personal feast of faces, smiles. Six pairs of eyes . . blue, brown, and green . . looking at mine with love.

They call me Mom.

What's not to celebrate?!

My babes fourteen years ago. Sammy is missing, but he's up top with the strawberry!

edited repost

Friday, May 4, 2012

Real Love

It's hard. Pretend seems so much more attractive, but in the long run I think it might take more energy . . emotional, mental, spiritual. Like a frown takes more muscles than a smile.


There are so many words for it. Authentic. Genuine. I can't think of anymore (that's real).


REAL


You know it when you see it. It can be ugly but still attractive. It draws because it's true.


And we all want to be told the truth. It's the only thing that let's us know our response, our thoughts, our relationships are . . well, real.


I wrote a REAL text to my husband tonight. It was hard. It was scary. It showed me there are places in my heart that even after 25 years want to play pretend.


But as scary as it is, the real feels secure.


And like my marriage, I know real life can handle the real. What else is there?


I think a lifetime of pretend is potentially exhausting.


But real can be painful too.


So along with real, I will do love.


A good combo I think.




Linking with "Five Minute Friday"

Thursday, May 3, 2012

Sowing


Van Gogh's The Harvest and my inspiration

You, Who gives seed to the sower, give me faith to scatter.

I till the soil of young hearts, some still tender. Others already rocky with the disillusionment of time and experience. The grit and gravel littered upon the ground by the enemy of this field.

I wait for perfect weather, but the seasons fly fast, and this sower's seed lies waiting in my satchel.

Can one plant in rain, wind, drought, and storm? The climate of this terra, this home, sees it all.

Oh, to own the simple faith of the farmer. His efforts sown, he scatters knowing only One can make seeds grow.

I long for harvest and rejoice when seemingly fallow fields bear fruit. How silly of me not to scatter seed, waiting for perfect conditions. How proud.

In the sowing, my dependence dies to self and arises to Another. Buried deep in the darkness of faith, life is called forth. Hope sprouts and reaches toward the light. From death to life.

Resurrection is not my task.

"Come sit with me, sweet child, dear son. Let me tell you of my Father."

And all I do is scatter.

Repost from the archives





Monday, April 30, 2012

Perfect Plans


Saturday I hosted an (in)Real Life meetup . . well kinda. You know, the one I’ve been planning, posting, and Facebooking about for a month now. The one I talked to all my friends about, invited the ladies from my Bible study to, announced in church. The one I prayed over, planned for, got way more creative than is normal for me, stayed up way too late to prepare for, woke up way too early Saturday morning cause I was so excited to welcome my friends.
















































































































Yeah, that one.

It was an incredible day. Full of surprises. 

Like a failed internet connection.

And it didn’t fail until everyone had arrived, and it was too late to cancel what I had scheduled and promoted as a full one day retreat. I had no “Plan B.”

“Man makes his plans, but God directs his steps.” Proverbs 16:9

As I made frantic calls to the internet company and tried every technological option my very "un-techy" mind could think of, I prayed pleading prayers.

“God, do you see me here? Do you understand how badly I need this internet to work? How disastrous this is going to be if it doesn’t? What the heck am I supposed to do with all these women who’ve come to my house with the expectation of a really great time of learning and encouragement that I am totally unprepared to deliver WITHOUT THIS VIDEO?????!!!!! I love you. Your’re really great. Pleeeeeeeease. Amen.

Slowly, the undeniable reality of my predicament began to settle in. My heart was in my throat. Hiding in the bathroom and crying was a tempting but unrealistic option. God and the internet remained silent.

Defeatedly, I looked up from the computer. And I saw my roomful of friends milling around my kitchen enjoying coffee, fruit, and pastries. The warm buzz of conversation was filling the air. Not a single one of them looked like they were ready to cry mutiny. Instead, they were all smiling, engaging each other in conversation, laughing, communing. They looked surprisingly like . . community.



































































The vision for the (in)Real Life event was to connect women to real life community. The kind you can touch. It wasn’t the way I planned, but what happened accomplished exactly that! Using the handouts as our discussion starters, we had phenomenal conversations. Our hearts were knit together and to God. We laughed, cried, worshiped, learned, and ate. Old friends were reunited, friendships were strengthened, new friendships were birthed. We enjoyed and celebrated community. It was an incredible day.





























I’m looking forward to purchasing the (in)RL dvd, inviting back all my gracious friends plus all those who couldn’t make it, and enjoying the wisdom of the (in)courage writers.

The truth is I’m still a little disappointed that we didn’t get to watch the lovely ladies of (in)courage as they sat sharing on the couch. But by God’s grace . . 

. . we got to be them.
























You can read more about the 400+ other (in)RL meet-ups and visit (in)Courage here: