Looking for Answers

Things still feel rough around here.  I still feel like I'm searching for answers.  I've made some progress on the track of practical solutions.  But I also have to admit that practical solutions are, at best, a temporary relief.  But (I should know this by now!) the answers that are of eternal good, that help despite the circumstances are the ones that transcend the circumstances.

Through a series of (super encouraging, life-giving) conversations with my brother and my mom, the Lord led me to 2 Corinthians 4.  I was looking for that "jars of clay" passage and I found more than I bargained for to nourish my soul.  This is what I am thinking on and praying today.


Therefore, having this ministry by the mercy of God, we do not lose heart.

[Having this ministry.  It's a mercy.  That's a new thought.  And it's a reason not to lose heart.  Interesting.  Help me not to lose heart, Lord.  And to think of this ministry to my family as a mercy.]

But we have renounced disgraceful, underhanded ways. We refuse to practice cunning or to tamper with God's word, but by the open statement of the truth we would commend ourselves to everyone's conscience in the sight of God. And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing. In their case the god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers, to keep them from seeing the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God.

[I'm here for the gospel.  It's not my job to train my children to perform academic parlor tricks that make me look like an expert.  It's not my job to convince others that I've found the right or best way to homeschool so that I can gain a following.  It's not even my job to arrange things so that I feel successful.  It's about the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God.  Help me, Lord!]

For what we proclaim is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, with ourselves as your servants for Jesus' sake.  For God, who said, "Let light shine out of darkness," has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.

[I'm not here to seek my own kingdom.  I'm here to serve my children for the sake of Jesus.  Light of the Knowledge of the Glory of God ... in the face of Jesus Christ ... that sounds like it might be something important to keep in mind.  That sounds like the foundations of a purpose statement for our homeschool.]

But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.

[Oh, Lord!  Oh, Lord!  That thought both humbles me ... and raises me up.  I am a jar of clay, Lord.  Weak and broken.  And yet ... that isn't an accident?  The fact that you've entrusted these children, this task of proclaiming life-giving truth to real human beings, to someone who is so lowly, so insignificant and so, so frail herself ... that was a part of the plan?  I know what that means - as much as I don't like to admit it.  It means that I should stop holding my breath, stop longing for that day when I'm independent of your mercy, strong enough to cope without grace, too savvy to need to cry out to you in prayer.  I really do want the world to know that the surpassing power belongs to you.  And honestly, Lord, right now, the way you've got it set up, I don't think anyone would mistake me for the source!]

We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. For we who live are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh. So death is at work in us, but life in you.

[How much suffering can I handle?  How long can I last?  How hard is too hard?  It seems like there must be this delicate balance, Lord.  This tiny margin between "afflicted" and "crushed", between "perplexed" and "despairing".  How could I find that small space?  How would I know how to measure out my own suffering?  How would I know how much my body could handle to have Jesus manifest in it today?  If I am afflicted, Lord, let it be from your hand.  Let no one else strike me down, Lord, but you, whom I trust to work death in me, and yet hold me back from being destroyed.]

Since we have the same spirit of faith according to what has been written, "I believed, and so I spoke," we also believe, and so we also speak, knowing that he who raised the Lord Jesus will raise us also with Jesus and bring us with you into his presence. For it is all for your sake, so that as grace extends to more and more people it may increase thanksgiving, to the glory of God.

[This is the big picture, this eternal, kingdom goal - more grace to more people, more thanksgiving, more glory to God.  That is a big, big thing to be a part of.  That gives purpose and hope beyond what I can accomplish in a day, even in a lifetime.]

So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison ....

[Is it overly dramatic, Lord, at age 37 to say that my outer self is wasting away?  Because it does feel like a wasting away.  And yet, if the counterpart to that is my inner self being renewed day by day, then no time is too soon to embrace that pattern.  Momentary.  Light.  Affliction.  Eternal.  Weight.  Glory.  I believe, Lord, but help my unbelief.  Keep me, here, from being crushed.  And then, in eternity, crush me with that eternal weight.  Smother me with your glory. I'll be ready for it.  I'll be desperate for it.]

... as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal. 

[See, that's just where my struggle is, Lord.  The "seen" is so much easier to "see" than the unseen.  But I suppose you're trying to remind me that how easy something is to see has a lot to do with where I am looking.]

The Next Thing

One of the things that I have recently found to be a crushing burden of homeschool (for me, for now) is the feeling of needing to "finish" something in a given time.  I fear that if I don't finish it, my kids will be "behind".  I fear that if I don't finish it, I will have wasted the money I invested in it.  I fear that if I don't finish it, I'll miss out on that break I was hoping to take when it is all done.

For some (and even for me, in other phases of life) the structure is helpful.  It's nice to have someone else plan out what a year's worth of work includes, how much to review when and what should be included in a day of work or practice.  It feels very tidy to have five days worth of activity and begin again on Monday.  When we are able to get it done, it brings a sense of completion and closure.  But those days are getting much fewer and farther between.

Perhaps I'm less able to accomplish something that would be good to accomplish.  Perhaps the new pressures and constraints of life at this moment are revealing "shoulds" that never should have been "shoulds" and I am now releasing myself from them.  But whatever the case (and in some ways, it really doesn't matter) there is only this: what can we - at this stage, with this present grouping of children and this present, tired mama - accomplish in one day?  That is it.  What has God given us to do on this day?  Let's do it.  Let tomorrow worry about itself.

And what if we get to the end of the day and it wasn't all done?  Then not all of those things were things God meant for us to do today.  Yes, maybe there was time wasted.  Maybe we could have been more efficient.  But on this day, at this moment, whatever the causes, the task is still the same - trust to the Lord what wasn't accomplished and wake up tomorrow to start on the next thing.

As much as possible, I have moved away from organizing our subjects such that they must be done on a daily or weekly schedule in order to "work".  I've tried to avoid setting up things such that if we miss a day we are "behind" and have to try to cram two days worth of work into one (or three into two).  Instead it has worked much better for us if Mama has a general sense of the next thing(s) she'd like to teach or work on with the children.  When we come to school time, we do the next thing.  And if we don't get to it, it is tomorrow's next thing.

Didn't read a chapter of our read aloud book?  It will still be there tomorrow.  Talked about place value but they didn't fully "get" the concept?  Talk about it some more tomorrow; try another approach.  Time to start school but not all the morning chores aren't complete? They can wait until the next slot of time for getting a little work done.  (Or, do a little more housework and some school things can wait until later.)

The only way to make this system a reality has been, as much as possible, to unchain activities from each other so that each piece can move forward (or not!) independently.  Since our math discussion and written practice are no longer directly linked, we can do one without the other, if needed, on any given day.  Since the children's Five-A-Days are all things that we have already covered and they are just reviewing, we can take more time than I expected to work on our current concept without interfering with the Five-A-Day work I picked for them.  Or, conversely, if we didn't get a chance to complete the Five-A-Days, they can wait for the next day and our morning math conversations can keep happening.

This week, my oldest was only able to finish three out of the five problems on his Five-A-Day one afternoon.  Rather than requiring him to "catch up" on those two and do five new ones the next day, I simply took those two problems, added three more and they were his Five-A-Day for the next day.  If we've determined that five problems in a day is what we can manage, then why plan to do seven?  There will always be more good things to discuss and practice.  What do we gain by "doubling up"?  What are we racing against?  More and more, for us, the answer is: nothing!

Note: The two subjects that still "need" to fall into a weekly pattern are History and Latin.  And for now, I'm going to let them stay that way.  I'm not at all convinced that Latin is something all homeschoolers must do, but I have a degree in Latin and, quite frankly, it's something I love to teach.  Plus, our pastor's wife and her two youngest come over on Tuesday afternoons to do Latin with us, which is a big plus in the be-with-people category (perhaps even more for Mama than for the kids!).  We began three years ago with Song School Latin and are now working through the Latin for Children series.  We are on Primer B out of C, so after next year we'll reevaluate what to do next.

Though it is not absolutely essential, our history program works best done in five-lesson-a-week rotations because every five lessons covers one topic.  I absolutely love the Veritas Press History for many reasons.  Content-wise, it covers history, including Church History, map skills and lots of historical context.  Each era of history has its own song which helps the children to have a mental framework for the order and relationship of historical events, as well as some key dates.  Another plus is that it is on-line, very interactive, and the kids can do it on their own (mostly) while I watch and listen from the kitchen as I make dinner.

Do the Next Thing

I just love this poem.  Some sites credit it to Elizabeth Elliot.  Others mention that she shared it as from an anonymous author.  I haven't been able to find out for sure who wrote it, so I'll leave it unattributed for now.  I have had a copy of this poem for quite some time and think of it often.  But recently it seems to have risen to the surface of my soul as a kind of "theme song" of our homeschool (or at least the theme song of my own processing of thoughts about our homeschool).

Do The Next Thing

From an old English parsonage,
Down by the sea,
There came in the twilight,
A message to me;
Its quaint Saxon legend,
Deeply engraven,
Hath, as it seems to me,
Teaching from Heaven.
And on through the hours
The quiet words ring
Like a low inspiration
 “DO THE NEXT THING.”

Many a questioning, many a fear,
Many a doubt, hath its quieting here.
Moment by moment,
Let down from Heaven,
Time, opportunity,
Guidance, are given.
Fear not tomorrows,
Child of the King, 
Trust them with Jesus,
“DO THE NEXT THING.”

Do it immediately;
Do it with prayer;
Do it reliantly, casting all care;
Do it with reverence,
Tracing His Hand,
Who placed it before thee with 
Earnest command.
Stayed on Omnipotence,
Safe 'neath His wing,
Leave all resultings,
“DO THE NEXT THING.”

Looking to Jesus, ever serener,
(Working or suffering)
Be thy demeanor,
In His dear presence,
The rest of His calm,
The light of His countenance
Be thy psalm,
Strong in His faithfulness,
Praise and sing,
Then, as He beckons thee,
“DO THE NEXT THING."
-Author unknown

Just a random picture that makes me smile.

The Good, The Hard and The Ugly

I said early on in this blog journey that I wasn't here to share "answers" but to share the journey, the questions.  Well, today is one of those days where the answers seem very far and outnumbered by the questions.  While Math is in the process of being re-worked and other things are fair game, a new card was tossed onto the table last night.  I was on the Read Aloud Revival forum reading a post from another homeschool mom.  It was titled "Late Reader or something more ..."  In it, the author shared how she discovered her son's dyslexia.  I replied to the thread.

Oh. My. Thank you for sharing this.  My 9, 8 and 6 year old daughters all love to read.  They will curl up and read in a corner just for fun.  They beg to read aloud to the younger kids.  My 10 year old son, not so much.  I have been telling myself all the things you mentioned above.  “Well, he’s a boy.  Let him learn at his own pace.  Some day it will ‘click’ and he will love to read, etc.”  The more I read from your post and the more I read on the website you mentioned (thank you!!) the more I wondered if this wasn’t exactly what we were dealing with.

He was sitting here in the room with me, so I asked him about some of the things I was reading.  This is what he said, “You know how in Chinese, there is one character for each word?  Well, that’s how I read.  I know the shape of each word.  And if I don’t know the shape, I don’t know the word.  Or maybe I try to think of another shape I know of that looks like the shape of that word.”  He also said “When I am reading, the letters seem to fall out of order.  I will read the first part and then when I read the second part, I forget what the first part says.”  When asked if he found reading exhausting, he said “YES!” – not with a tone of complaint, but with a tone of relief that someone finally asked!

On one hand, I am thrilled (impressed, actually!) that he is so clearly able to articulate what he experiences when reading and to help me to understand it.  I feel like it gives me a new direction to consider and that brings a sense of relief and hope. BUT I am also fearful!  I started out this school year SOOO overwhelmed and reading Teaching from Rest (and the Focus and Align class) have been so helpful.  We’ve experienced SUCH a positive change and a relief.  Now, I must admit, I’m fearful about discovering that I have a child who is going to need some mommy-time-intensive help!

But thank you for sharing!  Now I’ve got something new to research and think about. :-/

I have to be honest, this feels very heavy right now.  Very hard.  The work I've been doing to change how we do math, to streamline the process?  Yea, that was an effort to make this job feasible ... not to make margins, not to get free time, just to make it all fit.  I keep telling myself that as the older kids get older they will transition to more independent work, that as new little ones come on to the official homeschooling stage, the older ones will have more ability to work on their own.  I want to do right by Luke.  I want to invest the time needed to help him to read comfortably.  But I also have a 6 year old who is learning to read, and so far I've averaged about 2-3 times a month of actually getting to sit down with her and read one-on-one.

I am tempted to stew right here in this blog post and list for you all of the things that I want to have in our schedule, that I wish were in our schedule that aren't even waiting in the wings right now.  They are downstairs in prop storage somewhere gathering dust.  But I am going to hold off on that for the moment.  In another half an hour Part 2 of the Focus and Align Master Class on the Read Aloud Revival is starting.  Last week (even in the midst of flu) it was such a balm.  Such a welcome relief.  So, trying not to despair as help might be right around the corner.

Anxiety - the Noble Sin

Sarah Mackenzie says that "rest is the virtue between negligence and anxiety".  In the companion journal to Teaching from Rest she asks the reader to consider whether she tends more towards negligence or anxiety.  Mentally I answered quickly "I tend more towards anxiety!"

On the face of it, who would ever wish to be anxiety-prone?  Who wants to be thought of (or to think of themselves as) stressed out?  However (now be honest with me, or at least with yourself) if given the choice, would you rather be thought of as anxious ... or as negligent?

We live in a society that values productivity and efficiency.  Being stressed is a sign of drive and industry.  Being negligent is just plain unattractive.

When we first moved into our current home and people would come over to visit, I would give them a tour.  Matt came to refer to it as the "apology tour".  I didn't want anyone to think that I lacked vision or purpose, so my comments about every room involved making definite statements about what I didn't like about the room and how I planned to change it.  If I couldn't show off what I had actually done, at least I could let everybody know that I was constantly thinking about what I should be doing.  What was missing was a simple contentment with and gratitude for what the Lord had provided.

I've carried over the same attitude to my mothering.  If my kids aren't where I think they should be, if I haven't included everything in our schedule that I feel we should, if other people are accomplishing things that I'm not, at least I can communicate to people that I am constantly tied up in knots about what I'm not doing.  Doesn't that seem more noble than falling short and being OK with it?  Or, put another way, if I criticize myself first, I preempt any chance for someone else to do it for me.

Of course, I wouldn't describe myself (out loud, at least) as anxiety-prone.  I have much more attractive ways of framing my condition.  I care deeply about my children's upbringing.  I take this job very seriously.  I accept my personal responsibility for these decisions and practices.  After all, who could fault me for caring too much?

So, not only did I have to honestly admit that I am more prone to anxiety, I am actually willing to believe that anxiety is the anecdote to negligence.  Let me rephrase that: I am convinced that describing myself as anxious is the anecdote to being perceived as negligent.  After all, if you aren't stressing over something, you must not care too much about it, right?  Truth be told, I think I somehow manage to be both negligent and anxious at the same time!

Another time I'd like to do a follow-up post to share some insights on anxiety from Sarah Mackenzie's interview with Andrew Kern (another one of the items in the Teaching from Rest Companion files).