A Tradition? begins

Yes, that's right. We're going camping. With an infant, no less.
And the above picture is why I'm going to ask my husband to put the tent together tonight.  Just to make sure that we will not be without key pieces.  You know, the ones that keep the tent in an upright position.  Yeah. Those pieces.

Why don't you do it yourself, you ask?  Well, if I try to do it without him, I'll be confused, for one. Very very confused.  Plus, I know something would inevitably end up torn, broken, lost, or all of the above. Trust me, I'm not being overly modest.  I'm just keenly aware of my limitations.  And setting up camp is one of them.

We never went camping when I was younger.  Well, I take that back. We did once. But I remember very little about it. I was about 9 or 10 years old. I  t was with a church small group. A nd there was one young, newly married couple who were sleeping in the back of their truck.  They had a sign on it that said: If it's a rockin', don't come a knockin'.  I thought it was hysterical.

So yeah, that's the extent of my camping memory.  Impressive, eh? (well, except for the fact that I went to a kids' camp for years and years, but that's different)

But I had heard about a large family who recently went camping and I thought, "If they can do it, I can!" Yes...I'm extremely competitive.  Or is it just highly motivated by others?   Either way, it got me thinking.   I want to take my family camping.  And I want to invite another family with kids to go along. And it can become a yearly tradition!!

Don't you just love how I can go from newly-formed-thought to something that is set in stone for the next 20 years in 0.7 seconds?  Yes. Impressive, I know.   And the fact that I dragged another poor, unsuspecting family into it (and yes, I had one in mind) just adds to my aggressiveness...Uh, I meant inclusive, loving nature.

So I call up my friend, Leanne.  She has three boys, whose ages match my girls perfectly, and who my girls adore. Yes, they were frightened by them in the beginning. *laughing* But once they found out that they were allowed to hit them back (permission given by me and Leanne) to protect themselves, they thought playing with them was the coolest thing ever.  In fact, they still talk about one time where "Charis saved Selah" because she pushed the boys off.  Being with these boys has, without doubt, helped to boost my girls' abilities to stand up for themselves and to not be so "careful."  Can you even imagine what camping with them out in the rugged wild would do?!

So why not invite that family to take on the fury of nature with us? I mean, if nothing else, we can just sit back and watch the two genders push and hit each other. Ahhh...such sweet memories that would be, eh?

Anyway, I ramble...So I call up Leanne and say, "Have you ever thought about going camping?"
"You're kidding! You're the second person this week to ask me that. We're going on Friday!"

We talk back and forth for a while. She says that they're doing a "trial camping run" just like the one that I had thought about minutes earlier. "I'm in!"  Yes, I invite myself.  Why not?  If she says no, I'll just sic my girls on her boys. No biggie. *shrug*

She warns me that they very well may end up leaving in the middle of the night.  So to just remember that she didn't invite me and therefore relinquishes any and all responsibility for my having a good time. *laughing*  She's hysterical, have I mentioned that?  I can't get through a conversation with her without wetting myself. A nd half the time she says, "What did you say?" because, through my laughter, I become speech deficient.

The last couple of days have been a whirlwind of decision making and final detail prep. Because up until two days ago, I was yet to come up with this brilliant plan of inviting myself on someone else's family camping trip . I've been busy.

When I asked the girls if they wanted to go Camping...they both screamed "YES!!!" I laughed and said, "Do you know what camping is?" Selah: "Uh, no. What is it?"

Don't you just love the innocent enthusiasm of kids?  If only I could get that enthusiasm for the unknown to cross over on eating certain vegetables? "YES! Give me all the asparagus you got, mom!"

So that's the 411 on this end...we're getting ready to go camping!! (must be read in a sing-songy-voice) And we're all so excited!!!

Princess Today. Queen Tomorrow.

One morning not too long ago, through a small fluke of misplanning and miscommunication, the girls and I found ourselves ready to leave the house...with suddenly nowhere to go.

Even all of our back-up plans were fast being eliminated: Our library didn't open until noon, and it was nine.  I couldn't foresee a trip to the park with Raegan because she'd been fussy/teething.  Not to mention, it was very muggy.  And I didn't want to just call a friend up and say "Uh. I'm dropping by. In five minutes." Because my girls were wanting something special. Not rushed.

So as my girls stood anxiously by the door, packed and ready to leave...I call up my mom. Ah, these are the moments that I love having my family so close by. Off to Grandma's house we go. The girls were thrilled! ;)

During the drive, I started to pray for two married friends of mine.  And I loved it!  I don't get very much time to just pray "by myself," to hear the sound of my voice as I cry out to God. Yes, the girls were in the backseat, but they were busy making up songs about Jesus.  Loud ones.  So...it felt like alone time.  Me in the front seat. By myself.  Praying out loud for friends. And suddenly, my prayers shifted. I began to lift up the future husbands of my little girls.

I can't explain it, but something in me "clicked". Yes, I've always known that these little girls would soon grow up...

...would soon be at the very doorstep of the Life Seasons that don't feel that far behind me: boys, sports, clothes, dances...Getting dressed up for real.

But for some reason, that far-off fact simply hit home in my heart.  It became reality to me as I drove down the road praying for little boys, unknown to me now but still very much alive. Out there, preparing to become the men that would love my daughters.

I prayed for my girls' confidence levels.  That they would be girls who wouldn't have to share bits and pieces of their heart to just anybody in order to feel important.  That they would be drawn to the idea of holding out for one man.  And that the little boys out there would have a deep conviction, even at a young age, to wait for the time when they would meet and marry my little girls.

On and on I prayed.  As thoughts and feelings rushed my heart, I handed them over to God to store up until the perfect time.

And I realized something. I love being the one that gets to watch them grow up.  Yes, I already knew that.  But it was as if every desire to do something else outside of the home vanished. *like that*

I want to dedicate my life to ensuring that my little girls DO have a rock-solid foundation of self-esteem.  I want to be their Mom. Nothing more. Nothing less.  Yes, I want to be Jet's wife. That's a given....he a part of me.  But it's... different.  I can't explain it.  If you're a parent, I don't have to.  All I can say is I want to dedicate my life to deepening. expanding. strengthening the lives and hearts of my little girls.

People sometimes ask me what I do for a living.  And then, they add on the "Or are you just a mom?" Yeah. But I am ever-so-content at "just" being a mom.

Today, we visit the Pig Farm

Through a small little Window of Time, you can peer in and see me...at age 4.  I am armed with my pacifier, which I lovingly call "nippy," heading to a friend's pig farm.  And I have one thing on my mind:  to be a little runt's hero.
Me...age 4. I tried to find a picture of me with the "nippy". But I couldn't find any. Mom said she was embarrassed enough to have a 4 year old still using a pacifier, she wasn't going to document it with a picture. 

My mom had told me that the Momma Pig had just given birth to a lot of piglets.  But one of the little pig's didn't have a nipple.  And because of that, it was very, very sad.  Did I want to go and give MINE to the little pig?

*Insert heroine music*

Even as a young girl, I was extremely compassionate and very motivated to help the "underdog."  Even if that...uh, dog was, in fact, a pig.  My mom knew this and was banking on it.

I REMEMBER walking up to the pig pen.  I REMEMBER taking a hold of my pacifier.  I REMEMBER seeing the little pig that didn't have a nipple (as all the other ones were currently nursing). I REMEMBER my mom pointing out runt-pig and encouraging me to throw it in.

*FREEZE FRAME*

In case you haven't gotten the gist of where this is going, allow me to walk you through.  I was FOUR years old and STILL using a pacifier.  My rather brilliant (and somewhat deviant) mother was playing on my compassionate heart to get me to rid myself of this little habit-forming device before I went on my first date.  To which I say thank you, Mom. :)

A family friend had just had a litter of pigs...she saw her opportunity and ran with it.  She later told me that she was praying that there would actually be a little runt pig because she didn't know that for sure. Apparently, God was on her side in this whole scheme to free little Christin from the alleged Nippy...because yes, there was a pig-in-waiting.

Okay. *Pushing the Play button*

I finger the little pacifier in my hands.  I aim carefully at the sadly deprived piglet, who was obviously waiting for me to ease her pain.  I throw...I wait in huge expectation over the joy and excitement of this little pig once she has the cherished pacifier in her mouth.  I wait and slo-mo watch as my dear nippy flies through the air.

And in one sickening *thud* the pacifier hits the dark dirt.  The rest of the little piglets make a run from the left side of the screen to the right, trampling my pacifier.  Covering it in mud.

Not quite what I was expecting.  I was upset. Like you are when you just witness nippy murder.

But my mom assured me that the little piglet would eventually find it...and then be happy.  I'm not so sure at this point.  I mean, I just shared my most beloved possession with the sad, deprived little pig. And now...Nippy lies somewhere beneath pig poop.  Not quite the way I had pictured it.

I don't remember the transition being that bad.  I mean, I'm sure that the first couple of nights weren't the easiest without my pacifier.  But I got over it.  I eventually went to sleep.  And, here's the clincher, I didn't hate my mom for doing it.  But of course, I was also "tricked" into offering it up MYSELF.  So if I missed it, it was because I had willingly offered it up.  Smart, Mom. Real smart.

If only it were that easy for my three year old....

Here's Selah. She's sick...and has Bubby. She is only allowed to use beloved Bubby in her bed. Here, we're thinking of taking her to the ER because she's so sick...so we let her use it.

Selah just turned 3 yrs, right? Well, for the longest time, I've been building her up with conversations like: "When you turn 3, you won't need your bubby anymore, right?"
"Right! and then I get my surprise?" she asks.
"Uh-huh! Anything you want!"

(Insert: when Charis gave up sucking her thumb, we took her to the Walmart toy department and said, "Pick something." For a split second, I was afraid that she would go for gold and pick another bike or a kid's computer or MP3 player. But nope. She headed straight for...play dough.)

Yup.  We give her the Green Light on picking whatever she wants, and she asks for something we can make in our very own kitchen.  Something that we actually already had at home, in large quantities.

At my prompting, she did look around a little more, picking a highly annoying little puppy that barks incessantly every time you get near it. But still...it was under $10!! Not bad for a good ol' fashion bribe where the sky is the limit! I'm thinking we may've lucked out on that one!! Jet and I will not make that mistake again...next time, we will specify what aisle they can choose from!)

So anyway, this conversation with Selah has been on-going for a couple of months now.  I figure, it worked for Charis (of course, she was a year older when she stopped sucking her thumb completely). Therefore, I figure it would work for Selah.   At least that's the line of thought.  The hope against all hope.   Since I do not want to have a child, who is 4 years old and still dependent on the pacifier to go to sleep.

Well, it hasn't happened as easily as I had thought.  Apparently, she does not share in my little-girl compassionate heart.  Yes, she IS compassionate.  But she's a little more discriminating with hers.  Sure, if there is a hungry preschooler in her Sunday school class, she'll gladly share her brownie.   Yep, if there is a spider on a scared child's clothing, she'll glad knock it off and squash it to death.   She's happy to do it. But start messing with her beloved "bubby" and it's a whole other story!

Before Raegan was born, I tried what a friend of mine had done to get her daughter to stop using a pacifier: to have the child want to care for the upcoming baby.   "You can give the baby your bubby when she's born...so she can have one." T ears and sobs immediately commenced.  I didn't want to push it...I didn't want to chance bitterness at the new baby. A nd unfortunately we don't have a baby pig farm. But even if we did, I think Selah would take the I-truly-don't-care-if-he-does-want-my-bubby approach. It's a pig.  Go find a Charlotte to help this Wilbur.

Huh. Alright. Not working. Moving on.

I've tried to convince her. To tell her that she's too old for one. To try to turn her thoughts to the "surprise."   The idea is a great one, in theory...but no toy outweighs the preciousness of good ol' Bubby. I'm thinking that "talking her through" isn't going to cut it.

But speaking of "cutting it"...

After talking it over with a friend, and mulling it over for a few weeks, I have decided to use the "snipping" technique.  I will, under the cover of night, take scissors to her beloved bubby.  A little at a time until it loses its "suck."  The theory being that it's the suck that is addictive.  Thus, I'm going to rid her of the ability to suck, even though she'll still be able to use it...if she still wants to.

Yes, yes. I know, it's the weeny way out.  I confess.  But I can't just deprive her of it straight out. (and believe me, I have no issues whatsoever depriving my girls of things) ...there's just something about this little bubby.  It's not like saying No to letting her have chocolate at 9am.   Or saying she can't have a toy as we are shopping at a store. THIS bubby has been her "soother" for years.  I don't want to just take it.  I want to...well, wean her slowly off of it.

Who knew a small piece of plastic could be so addictive?  Could have so much power?  Could drive a grown woman to frustration...and deviant behavior?

I'll let you know how it goes. ...once I get the nerve up TO take scissors to "Bubby".

Guilt. An out-dated garment.

Innocent Until Proven Guilty.  We all know what it is.  We all know how it works.

But for some reason, the realm of Motherhood does not seem to so easily embrace this philosophy. Instead Moms of all ages seem to carry with them a different mantra: Guilty Until Proven Innocent.

I can't tell you how many defeated women I've talked to...or how many of my own personal struggles that I wage...revolving around Guilt. It, seemingly, is the hinge on which our motherly emotions can sometimes turn.

"I'm not doing enough. I need to do more."

"I'm told I should be focusing more on ministry outside of my home but I don't have the energy to do more than what I'm doing inside the home for my family. Isn't ministering to my family good enough?"

"I should be working. Bringing in money to help in our finances. My husband does too much already."

"I shouldn't be working outside of the home. I'm missing all the little things. What if he loves the babysitter more than me?!"

"I love working outside of the home. Is that wrong?!"

"I feel so much better after having taken a nap, but I should've been doing something more productive. darning socks. quilting. harvesting wheat to make my own bread."

"I just need a little "Me time" to recharge. Is that too much to ask? I mean, it's just a bathroom break."

"I should be homeschooling them, but I just can't bring myself to do it. I don't feel qualified."

"I should be doing a better job of homeschooling them. I'm so afraid that I'll fail or miss something that I should be doing."

"I really should be spending quality time with each of my kids. But there just isn't enough time to set aside an hour or so with each child."

"I know it's my retirement fund, but maybe I should use it for their college tuition instead."

On and on the list goes. I've heard it from tons of friends. I've experienced it on a near-regular basis in my own heart. Guilt from all the "shoulda's".

Not doing enough.  Not being enough.  Not giving enough.  Not doing it well enough.  Being too permissive.  Too demanding.  Struggling between what seems best for the child(ren) and what works best for you, as the parent.  Comparing yourself to every June Clever character you ever knew and obviously coming up short.

Guilt knows no borders.  I think it effects working mothers and stay-at-home mothers.  Mothers with newborns and mothers with grandchildren.  Mothers who have one child and mothers who have ten. Guilt doesn't occur because of outward circumstances.  It happens due to the perceived.  What you think you should be doing.   What society thinks you should be doing.  What you think others think but won't say you should be doing.  It wages war on your mind...and in your heart.

There are days where I feel like I wake up already guilty.

"Oh man, I slept late. I should've been up, done with exercising, and ready to focus on them. Grant it, I didn't sleep last night because of Raegan, but that's no excuse, right?"

And in order to shake that guise, I must prove to myself, my children, and the perceived opinion of the remaining populace that I am, in fact, innocent of all charges.  That I really am a good mom.

It feels like I'm a hamster on a wheel.  Running hard.  Running hard.  Running... Hard?  Not getting anywhere. What's the point? I say.  I'm never going to be good enough. Why bother. ...and then I feel guilty for feeling that. On and on it goes.

Essentially the day is spent exhausting yourself, fighting a mental battle that never really seems to go away.   There's no real, identifiable enemy. Because you're fighting an inward battle, a spiritual war over the territory of your mind.   The hardest, in my opinion, to win.   Why is this?  Why do I allow myself to even go there, mentally?  Why do I willingly line myself up against a "standard" that God has not set before me?  Where did this failure mentality come from?

I've heard some people say that it's due to the feminist movement.  They say that "movement" got women out of the home and into the workplace.  That it pushes the ideal that as a woman you can have it all. Marriage. Children. Corporate ladder.  They say that that ideal is a lie. a trap. and it sets women up to never feel complete because in order to be a "real woman" in this day and age, you must be able to juggle everything. And not only juggle it...but do it better than a man.

I don't know. I have no idea what life was like before this movement.   Did women Pre-Feminist Era have guilt? My guess is that yeah, they did. I won't pretend to even have a clue.

But what I do know is this.  I know many women/mothers who work outside of the home.   And because of their work, people around the world--or at least around the town where they live-- are impacted for the better.  I won't bother to list them out.  We all know women like that. (for the record: MY mother is one of them.)

I know women who are dedicating their time to making disciples of the nations.  Right inside the walls of their own home, in the domain of their own family.  And because of this, those children are growing up with purpose, with passion, with power.  Those children will become adults who go out and impact the world.

Does this mean that one mother is right and the other is wrong?  No.  It just means they are different. Just like MY girls are different.  I've said it before.  My girls can be polar opposites at times.  So does that make one better than the other?  Hardly.  They have just been designed and wired to fulfill a different calling, to fill a different niche then the other one.  They are not supposed to be compared.

Yet my issues with guilt, and I think other's issues as well, can stem from this one act: Comparison.

She does this better than me.... She actually uses her degree.... Her homeschooled children all got full scholarships to Harvard.... She gives birth and leaves the hospital smaller than she was before getting pregnant... She has enough meals for an entire month stored up in her freezer. Me? I don't think I have tonight's dinner planned. On and on the list goes.

And if you're not already comparing yourself to others, no worries.  The television will set it up for you. I've watched Good Morning America and Oprah, where they have a panel of women lined up.  The stay-at-home moms on one side.  The business women on the other.  All mothers.  Yet they are set up against each other.

"Tell us why you don't agree with women working outside of the home?" Defenses go up on all sides. You arm yourself with a fine-tuned argument about why you are THE right one and the other one is the loser.  You spend the next 1/2 hour throwing stones...all in an attempt to make yourself feel better about your role in life. Why?  To assuage guilt?  To cause someone else to feel guilty for fulfilling a different role than you?

I don't know what the woman across the street has been called to.  Simply because I am not her.  But I do know that, TODAY, God Almighty has asked me to:
1. Stay at home with my children
2. Homeschool them
3. Make my husband and my children priority in this short season of life.
4. Have more children than I currently have.

Do I know what all the "tomorrows" of my life may hold?  Nope.  Not a clue.  The organizer in me wants to "develop a plan" to help me excel at the above things.  So that I can compare myself to a list of "shoulds."  So that I can look at what God has called me to do and see how I measure up.   That sounds healthy enough, right?

But somehow, deep in my spirit, I know there's more than that.

I need to come to a place where I am STILL, where I am at PEACE with who I am.  Not with what I do. Not with my completed checklist.  Not with my children who are "thriving" under my care.  Because we all know that life doesn't always work out the way that you plan.

I need more than a plan.  I need to know the Love of the Father on a DEEP level...for me.  On a revolutionary level where I am no longer driven to "do better" so that I can dub myself "successful" to some standard. What if the standard changes? What then?

But beyond all that, I want my heart to RELAX.  To love the moment. To love who I am allowed to be in THIS day.  So that "tomorrow" I can look back and know that I embraced this season for all that it has.  I don't want to allow GUILT to rob me of my joy. To rob me of this moment, to undermine whatever it is that God has asked ME to be, simply because it's not what someone else applauds, practices, or recognizes as valuable.   I want to be... FREE. from guilt. from my own fears of not being good enough. from the June Cleaver comparisons.  FREE to be ME not a shadow of what someone else says I should be.

Is it wrong to strive for perfection?  No.  Ironically, that is something that Lord is also working up in me. "You therefore, must be perfect, as your heavenly father is perfect." Matthew 5:48. (But that's for another blog journal.)

But there is a balance.  There is a correct heart motive. And there is an understanding that I can't be perfect at what God isn't calling me to be.  He isn't calling me to raise someone else's kids.  He isn't calling me to live in the future...or to fix something outside of my control.  He's calling me to love him perfectly, to honor him wholly.  And for me, in this moment, that includes how I love and interact with my husband and children.


That may sound like nothing to those called to lead the masses. (Trust me, I know. I've led the masses before. But those are my yesterdays.)  But for me, it's obedience.  And in the midst of that, I will find freedom.

Freedom from waiting for others to approve of me.  And then, inside the realm of a liberated heart... a liberated identity... I know I can pursue being perfect like my father is perfect.

Pursued out of Joy. Not of out of fear of not being good enough.

Matthew 12:43

I love trash day. It's one of my favorite days. Simply because someone pulls up to my house and carries away all the junk that we've accumulated over the week.  Ahh...sweet relief.

Decluttering and organizing are passions of mine.  I love to go on a "Stuff Diet"!  Going through filing cabinets...attic boxes...drawers...closets.  I show no mercy.  If it has no use...*Out* it goes!  I always feel so much lighter when all the "excess" is gone.  Mentally, I function better.  I think more clearly.  I feel more creative and alive.  The order in my brain seems directly linked to the order in my house.  I can't explain it.  It just IS.

I've talked about all the yard sales we've had....all the baskets we use for toys...

for magazines...

for outside apparel, like hats, gloves, umbrellas...

More toys...

We have cabinets and drawers, specified for all sorts of things...

Everything has a spot...

Craft things, games, random toys...

educational items hidden away in drawers, yet easily accessible for little hands...

books and diapers and music...all ready and waiting for all the short little people who roam these halls...

My desk is filled with smaller basket-type things.  Filled with scissors, glue, stationary, disks, sticky-notes, pens, pencils, tape....all ready for the girls and their craft times.

...and the places to hang their treasured craft items. The white "wall" pictured above is usually covered in art work. Happened to take this picture between taking down and putting up. 

The point in saying all of this?  To confess.  I have OCD.  Nah, not really. I'm not obsessive-compulsive, truly! Though all of my counselor friends who read this, feel free to diagnose. 

I just love organization.  I love emptying my home of unwanted things.  I love having it clean and in order.

Matthew 12:43 speaks of a man who's had an unclean spirit removed from him. Yet he remained "empty" and because of that the unclean spirit moves back in.  Only this time, the Bible says, he brings back 7 other unclean spirits with him.  So he's worse off than before.

But what strikes me more than his being empty (so that the demon could return) is that it says that when the spirit came back to the house he finds it "empty, swept, and in order."  I'm guessing a demon-possessed man would have lived in a mess.  Things scattered here and there.  Trash lying everywhere. Dirt. Filth. Clutter.

So he obviously had taken the time to declutter and organize. Yet he had not taken the time to be filled.

So I have to ask myself. What am I filling myself with today? Emptying, decluttering, organizing...it all has its place.  But am I just taking the time to straighten up...or do I also set aside the time to FILL UP?

My baby is growing up

You, my daughter, are now 4 and 1/2 months old.  Over a 1/3 of the way through your 1st year!  How did that happen?  Did I blink?  Because God knows I definitely didn't sleep my way through it. ;)

You always give me "that look" whenever I try to take your picture.  I'm sure you're wondering why I have some big shiny thing thrust into your face...as I make crazy sounds and faces from behind it.

Already, you have captivated both of your sisters' hearts.  And they seem to have gotten a hold of yours as well.  You laugh whenever they are near.  You reach out and grab ahold of whatever you can...usually their hair...just to touch them and pull them to you.   Surprisingly, they don't cry when you turn to me with strands of hair in your tiny, balled up fist.  Their hair.   The sacrifices they gladly make for one of your giggles!

You've always been strong!  You held your head up from very early on.  You rolled from your stomach to your back by 2 months, and thus could move from one side of your crib to the other!  Your back to your stomach by 3 months.  You've always been a mover!  And because of that, you were only allowed to be in the bassinet for less than 5 weeks.  I was afraid you'd maneuver your way out during the middle of the night!

You are finally getting a look all your own.  In the beginning, you were the spitting image of Selah. Carbon Copy!!  But then you took a turn towards Charis's look.  And then you went for the happy medium of in-between.  And while you still do favor both girls, you have facial expressions all your own.  And according to Grandma and Granddaddy, they say that you look more like me than either of the other girls.  Daddy agrees.

You have a trademark move.  Something that neither of the other girls has done.  Something that we witnessed you doing countless times inutero ...as we viewed you through countless sonograms....

You clasp your hands. Constantly.

And you cross your feet whenever you are going to sleep.

Mommy has a hard time not waking you up to *hug* you...you are just that loveable! You are loved, little Raegan Roo. If you ever doubt anything...I'm sure it won't be that.

1895 Final Exam

Some people have asked me to explain how I ended up homeschooling. To be honest, that will take a few different posts. But I wanted to at least start by showing you this email that my husband sent me:

This is an exam from 1895 in Salina , KS, USA. It was taken from the original document on file at the Smokey Valley Genealogical Society and Library in Salina, KS, and reprinted by the Salina Journal.

FINAL EXAM (The grade being tested is in question. it's unsure as to whether it's an 8th grade exam or a teacher certification exam? Being that teachers were very young back then...it would have been a "9th" grade type age group. So the age of test takers is young. THAT is known.)

Grammar (Time, one hour)

1. Give nine rules for the use of Capital Letters.
2. Name the Parts of Speech, and define those that have no Modifications.
3. Define Verse, Stanza and Paragraph.
4. What are the Principal Parts of a verb. Give Principal Parts of lie, lay and run ?
5. Define Case. Illustrate each Case.
6. What is Punctuation? Give rules for principal marks of Punctuation?
7. Write a composition of about 150 words and show therein that you understand the practical use of the rules of grammar.

Arithmetic (Time, 1.25 hours)

1. Name and define the Fundamental Rules of Arithmetic.
2. A wagon box is 2 ft deep, 10 feet long, and 3 ft. wide. How many bushels of wheat will it hold?3. If a load of wheat weighs 3942 lbs., what is it worth at 50cts/bushel, deducting 1050lbs. for tare?
4. District No. 33 has a valuation of $35,000. What is the necessary levy to carry on a school seven months at $50 per month, and have $104 for incidentals
5. Find cost of 6720 lbs. coal at $6.00 per ton.
6. Find the interest of $512.60 for 8 months and 18 days at 7 percent
7. What is the cost of 40 boards 12 inches wide and 16 ft. long at $20 per meter?
8. Find bank discount on $300 for 90 days (no grace) at 10 percent.
9. What is the cost of a square farm at $15 per acre, the distance around which is 640 rods?
10. Write a Bank Check, a Promissory Note, and a Receipt.

U. S. History (Time, 45 minutes)

1. Give the epochs into which U. S. History is divided.
2. Give an account of the discovery of America by Columbus.
3. Relate the causes and results of the Revolutionary War.
4. Show the territorial growth of the United States.
5. Tell what you can of the history of Kansas
6. Describe three of the most prominent battles of the Rebellion.
7. Who were the following: Morse, Whitney, Fulton, Bell, Lincoln, Penn, and Howe?
8. Name events connected with the following dates: 1607, 1620, 1800, 1849, 1865.

Orthography (Time, one hour)

1. What is meant by the following: Alphabet, phonetic, orthography, etymology, syllabication?
2. What are elementary sounds? How classified?
3. What are the following, and give examples of each: Trigraph, sub vocals, diphthong, cognate letters, linguals?
4. Give four substitutes for caret 'u'.
5. Give two rules for spelling words with final 'e.' Name two exceptions under each rule.
6. Give two uses of silent letters in spelling. Illustrate each.
7. Define the following prefixes and use in connection with a word: bi, dis, mis, pre, semi, post, non, inter, mono, sup
8. Mark diacritically and divide into syllables the following, and name the sign that indicates the sound: card, ball, mercy, sir, odd, cell, rise, blood, fare, last.
9. Use the following correctly in sentences: cite, site, sight, fane, fain, feign, vane, vain, vein, raze, raise, rays.
10. Write 10 words frequently mispronounced and indicate pronunciation by use of diacritical marks and by syllabication.

Geography (Time, one hour)

1. What is climate? Upon what does climate depend?
2. How do you account for the extremes of climate in Kansas?
3. Of what use are rivers? Of what use is the ocean?
4. Describe the mountains of North America.
5. Name and describe the following: Monrovia, Odessa, Denver, Manitoba, Hecla, Yukon, St. Helena, Juan Fernandez, Aspinwall & Orinoco.
6. Name and locate the principal trade centers of the U.S.
7. Name all the republics of Europe and give the capital of each.
8. Why is the Atlantic Coast colder than the Pacific in the same latitude?
9. Describe the process by which the water of the ocean returns to the sources of rivers.
10. Describe the movements of the earth. Give the inclination of the earth.

Um. yeah. So there you have it.
I was a straight A student in high school.  Graduated in the top single-digit percent from a State University. And yet!   I would have failed this test. Because I was schooled to retain and spit out facts for tests. Not to learn for the sake of long-term memory retention.   Not for the sake of applying it to real life. Not to write out my own answer...in my own words.  I was trained for multiple choice. the ability to deduce. not to think on my own.

I want my children to be able to KNOW about life.  To experience it.  Not just to be able to regurgitate answers to specified questions at a certain time...on a designated test date.

So there you have it, one reason for why I'm homeschooling.  I'll leave the remaining 983 reasons for a later date. ;)

Ah yes, Diaper Duty

The following is rated P for Parental... due to scenes referring or relating to nudity, diapers, poop, and nausea.  If you are NOT a parent, it is advisable to skip this post.  As you may never want to go near a child in diapers, ever again in fear of the ever-pending explosion that may take place.

I know that you, my beloved husband, will enjoy this.  Not because it is funny.  No. Not because it is pretty. No.  But because you, my dear, were not here to experience it.  Yes. I, in all my twisted sense of "sharing," decided to stop and make sure that *this lovely moment* would forever be recorded.  So that you, from the comforts of your office, could revel in the abilities of your daughter.  Yes, I am that kind. And if for no other reason, to give you one more reason to thank Jesus.  For the fact that your daughter didn't wait the additional two hours for you to get home.  Ahh, yes.  Thank you, Jesus, for your small blessings bestowed upon Jet.

With that said...

I've pointed it out before that Raegan is an infrequent pooper. Usually once a week. So when she does go, her entire system gets cleaned out in one fell swoop.  It's a lovely display how fast a small baby can bring a parent to their knees.

Today, when I put this cute little outfit on her, the thought that this was its last day as a stain-free garment crossed my mind.  But I pushed it out of my thoughts.  Because my daughter, the once-a-weeker, went a couple of days ago. Ya-hoo.  I was home free.

Ahhh...isn't she cute? All dressed in white?  Nice.

Yes. That's it ladies. Enjoy this moment. For pretty soon this smiling sweet-smelling infant will morph into something ...not so endearing. or sweet-smelling.

I had just finished nursing her, when my little four-month-old sort of stopped.  I thought she was just studying something in the room because of the look of calm intensity on her face.  She gave me no warning.  No sounds that something was about to occur.  Nothing, I say!

And all at once, like the geysers out west, came this rumble...this sound...from the hind parts of my sweet princess.  Thar She Blows!

I raced to the next room where a basket of diaper accessories lies, looking at her to make sure that it was all contained safely within the confines of the diaper.  Yes, yes.  Everything looks good.  Carry on, Carry on.  I lay her down on the floor to change her.

But the more I cleaned, the more I realized that her "path of destruction" covered far more than I was aware.  I turned her around.  Now to greet me, was a large stain that went far above her waistline.  Like the flood waters of old...this stuff just kept on going.

Her back. Her arm. Her ear. Her cheek.

Ohhhh! For the love of God and all things holy!! Please Lord!!!?

With my other two girls napping, I didn't have their fetching skills working for me.  And with Raegan now feeling 3 pounds lighter and therefore, happy as a lark, she was skirming and wiggling all over the place.  It was a race against the fast-moving orange stain... I'd clean up. It'd take over again.  I'd clean up.  It'd take over again.  Honestly, I was tempted to take her outback and just hose her down.  But you know, the neighbors and all.

Finally...three diapers and two dozen wipes later...I had it all under control.  Seriously, the highlight of my day. *groan*  And just for the sake of posterity, here's the CLEANED out version, honey.  One that you can view safely from the confines of your desk chair.

Yes yes. My daughter has talents that far exceed that of a normal infant. I can't wait to see how specialized it is in a year. Once she's eating food.

Oh , but how can you not love a face like this?! You just want to kiss those puckered up lips. Just take care that you don't squeeze this *talented* baby.

PAINFREE labor and birth

Does that grab your attention? It did mine. Allow me to explain.

Easter 2002, I was a couple of months pregnant with our first child.  And like any new mom-to-be, I was trying not to think too hard about the impending delivery.  I had heard enough women tell the tale of their "horror birth stories."  In some circles of conversation, it even seemed like the women were trying to outdo one another.

"Oh yeah? Well, I'll see your 20 hours of labor and raise you a botched epidural." "Oh? Okay, I fold. You win."

Based on overheard and sometimes outright "just you wait 'til your turn" conversations, the prospects of my delivery weren't looking so hot.  So I knew better than to even spend time wondering about that "doomed" day when I would push my baby into this world. But then...

I told a friend that I was pregnant.  Her response?  That she wanted to believe the Lord for a pain-free birth.  "What?"  I wasn't sure if I heard her right.  "Yeah. I mean, the Bible says that his being on the cross took away ALL pain and sickness, right?  I'm going to believe the Lord for that."

Huh.

That was the extent of our conversation.  I think it pretty much ended there because I was too engrossed in the thoughts that were now *exploding* inside my head.  "God? What do you think about all of this?" ...I knew in my spirit that HE had ordained that small comment from a friend.  I knew that He was all over the idea!  Who was I to argue?

A couple of weeks earlier, I had gone by a friend's house to borrow some books on pregnancy and infancy.  A large pile sat on her kitchen counter, set aside for me.  As I was getting ready to leave with my plethora of maternity and baby information, she said "Oh, there's a book in there that my sister-in-law gave me.  She claims she had a pain free delivery."  She rolled her eyes.  "Yeah," her husband chimed in.  "Take it as a grain of salt. In fact you may not even want to read it."  The wife spoke up again. "Yeah, I just put it in there because it was with my other books.  I was going to get rid of it, but...?" She shrugged.

Oh. Okay. I grabbed the books and left.  Completely forgetting about that book.

And now here I was, a couple of months pregnant, having just talked to someone who said something I had never heard in my life. She had applied the scriptures to a part of life where pain just seems like the norm. To expect anything less was ridiculous. haughty. naive.

And yet... as this small little life grew inside me, a small hope and expectancy to see what God would do was growing as well.  I began to pray.  to believe. to trust that God is who he says he is.  That the cross was what He said it was.  He, joyfully, met me at that place and increased my faith.  Cheering me on to believe.

And then one day...I came across the book, hidden among the stack.  I had completely forgotten about it. I was so shocked!  Here, in the form of a book, was someone who had been challenged, through a prophetic word, to believe Him for a pain free birth.  She, subsequently, had three pain free births.  At the back of the book were loads of testimonies from other women who had experienced the same thing. Here, in paperback form, was a living testimony to the cross overriding the curse spoken over Eve in the garden:

"I will greatly multiply your pain in childbearing; in sorrow (some
translations say 'pain') you shall bring forth children." Genesis
3.16

But that isn't the end of the story! Christ came to redeem us from the "curse of the law" (Galatians 3:13). Isaiah, the prophet, goes onto say:

"Surely he has borne our GRIEFS and carried our sorrows...But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed." Isaiah 53:4,5

NOTE: The word translated "griefs" in Isaiah has the same meaning as the word translated "sorrow" in Genesis 3:16!!! God bore those sorrows himself so we don't have to! He broke the curse that was spoken in the garden over Adam and Eve, once and for all!

My faith soared.

To make a long story "short"...I continued to pray over the next months for God to cement his word on my heart and to erase the expectation of pain that other's birth stories had planted within me.  He encouraged me to write out a list of desires for the delivery. I got daring.

I wrote:
-For me to go into labor around 4am, so I could have the baby and then have the entire day to call people to share the news.
-For the entire process to be under 3 hours.
-For it to be completely pain free without any form of medication
-To not rip or tear vaginally

Everything was answered.

While I was pushing, the Lord said "What would you think if labor was under 2 hours?"  I looked at the clock and answered back in my heart "Two hours, from NOW?"  But as it turned out, he meant total.

My water broke around 4am.  My daughter was born at 5:55am.  Contractions were not painful.  In fact, the only way I knew I was having them was because I suddenly got the urge to pee.  As the contractions strengthened, I got the urge to really go; I kept telling them that I had to go to the bathroom.  They kept assuring me that it was the baby's head. 

Ten minutes of pushing and out she came. They said the head was out...and I had to look down to make sure they weren't kidding. I had NO idea she was even coming out!

Because she was born early, the midwife decided to give me an episiotomy to ensure that there would be no pressure on her head. She said that I would not have torn. But then came the stitches...

I felt EVERY one of them.  DESPITE the fact that she gave me 4 or 5 shots to numb me.  She kept saying "really, you feel that?!  How is that possible?"  Honestly, I think it was God's way of saying

Okay. You just pushed a baby out without pain because you believed me for it.  These stitches weren't covered in prayer.  You're going to feel every single one as a witness to people who think it was all a fluke.

Because I did have nurses ask me "Have you ever experienced pain before? Do you know what pain feels like?" Seriously?  You're asking me, really expecting an answer?  Have we Christians fallen so far from expecting and living out the miraculous that when we DO, people would rather attest it to some bodily fluke, like not being able to feel pain?!

Uh. Yeah.  I've felt pain before.  Go ahead, punch me. I promise I'll let you know if hurts. Just be forewarned, I've been known to cause pain too. (older brother and all).  I may hit back.

All three of my deliveries have been amazing.  All three have been short. This last time, the nurses told me to NOT push (I had pushed twice, maybe) because "the baby is coming on her own!"  I've never felt the "ring of fire" that people mention.  I have no idea what they're talking about.  When I say it's pain free...it really has been.

It's REALLY unusual that I share these things.  I've found that people (Christians especially) get annoyed. angry even. I t's like they think that I think I'm better than someone else because of these experiences.  Quite the opposite!  I KNOW it was a gift from God.  I KNOW it's simply because I believed what Jesus said.  I KNOW He's more than willing to uphold his promises for anybody who believes in Him.

Or I've found that Christians have tried to explain it away. "Well, it was only a 6lb baby."  Really people?  My point? ... I no longer want to "hide it under a bushel."  NO! I'm going to praise the Lord. (Remember that kid's song?) I want to share these miracles with people.

To encourage them. To stir up their faith. To challenge them to believe what the Bible says, regardless of what people and their personal experience says.

I've seen MANY miracles.  Simply because our God is a God of the miraculous.  But instead of just enjoying them myself, I want to share them.  Instead of being afraid that I'll offend someone who doesn't believe the miracles are for today, I want to be faithful to The King.  To rejoice in what he has done. To be what Christ has asked us to do.

"Go therefore...teaching them all to observe all that I have commanded
you." Matthew 28.19

I love that God has given this gift to me.  I'd love for you to experience the same thing.  I'm very willing to go into more detail about it all.  I just didn't want to take the time or space to go into details on here. But I will in an email, phone conversation, or hanging out in person, if you'd like.   I want to honor Him by honoring that which he has done in me.

For the record, the book I borrowed is called Supernatural Childbirth by Jackie Mize.  I didn't want to mention it earlier because it' s not about "a book." It's all about THE book. The Bible.  All you need to know is written in there.  All you need to do is trust Him to carry out what He's already promised.

One year ago...

It amazes me how time can heal almost any wound. A year ago, I had just come through one of the hardest seasons of my life...

It was a regular OB appointment. I would meet with the midwife, she would check the heartbeat, give me a glowing report of the growth of my baby, and I would finally get to schedule the sonogram appointment (the one where you get to find out the gender of the baby). I had no reason to worry.

Even though I had lost two other babies, I was 4 months pregnant...past the "iffy" first trimester.  I had already felt this robust baby move. OTHER people had already felt this little one move.  The midwife and I had joked about the spunky personality of this little one.  I was envisioning a hefty football player. A little brother for my two little girls.

I layed back so the midwife could move the little wand over my belly, finding the heartbeat.  But she was having trouble. "Yeah, you've had trouble before," I reminded her. "My uterus is retroverted." OH! Okay, then I'll just try it this way. She repositioned her instrument.

Nothing.

"Christin, I'm sorry but I'm not finding anything.  It's probably just me being dumb.  But I just want to check with a sonogram."

Panic. But just a bit.  I mean, what reason did I have to worry?  I just felt the baby...what was it?...a week or so ago?  Oh. huh.  My thoughts turned.  I hadn't been feeling the baby recently, but I figured it was just because I was only 16 weeks.  Doctors don't expect you to even feel the baby before 17-20 weeks. I had no reason to worry. right?  I called my husband to ask him to come for the sonogram.  Just hearing his voice caused me to cry.

I still remember it.  I saw it before the sonographer spoke one word.  The baby lay perfectly still.  No heartbeat. No movement. I can still see the way that baby was laying in the uterus.

My hand flew to cover my face.  Everything went blurry. Nothing made sense.

She was saying something in soft, hushed tones.   Surely this was not happening.  Surely there was some mistake.  MY baby was hearty.  MY baby was feisty.  My baby was not dead.  But the image on the sonogram screen said something different.  I wanted to scream. to vomit. to pray for resurrection power over my child.  But I did nothing. I just went numb.

They wanted to schedule the operation for as soon as possible.  Alright. Sure. Whatever you say.  I went through the motions. I called the hospital; I answered their questions.  I endured an operation where the physician was so callus and cold that just watching "Grey's Anatomy" gave me sudden panic attacks for months afterwards.  I was advised by the midwife to write a letter to the hospital, explaining the way I was treated during the operation to remove my baby.  But I wasn't able to even think about the operation.  So I couldn't bring myself to try and write an intelligent letter.

We named the baby Asher, after God kept telling me that was the name for this child.  He kept telling me to go look up the meaning. Asher means "blessed."  I didn't understand.

God gently said that He wanted me to be a "cheerful giver."  Back and forth my emotions went.  From "I will cheerfully give my child to the Lord." to "Why me?  Why do we have to lose yet another baby? Why on earth would you want the baby to be named 'blessed', God!?"  Extreme emotions became pretty normal.

A month later, I started having horrible stomach pains.  An ambulance came and took me away.  The hospital did a round of tests. Everything came back inconclusive.  They gave me two options: get an operation tonight to remove my appendix.  Or go home and come back tomorrow.  Seriously?  Those are my options?  Surgery or rest at home?  Man, you guys don't deal in the gray, do you?

My husband refused to take me home. An emergency appendectomy was scheduled for the early morning hours.  My surgeon said it was a good thing that we didn't go home.  My appendix was hot to the touch.  Good thing my husband had more sense than the ER interns.

Immediately following my surgery, other things happened. Horrible things involving other people's personal lives that I won't go into...which, in turn, impacted my life like an earthquake.   I can't explain or fathom even to this day.

A month after the appendectomy, I found out I was pregnant with Raegan.  Doubts and fear became a normal part of my existence.  None of the normal "good signs" were good enough for me.   Because our last pregnancy had been jammed full of all the good signs.   I lived in a constant state of "what if?"

...Now, a little over a year later from when we first knew we were expecting Raegan....

I look at Raegan in awe. Knowing that had Asher not been taken to heaven, I would not be holding this precious little one. I look at the scripture, Matthew 6:20 a lot differently.

"But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

I miss my three little treasures so much that, at times, it hurts.  Our family doesn't really feel complete without them.  I try to envision my home with three more little ones.   But I know that I will see them again.  I will hold them in my arms.  And I trust that God knows more than I do, that he sees things I cannot know this side of heaven.  And I KNOW, without doubt, that my treasures ARE stored up in heaven. Waiting for me...

A friend of mine, who also experienced miscarriage, once said, "When I get to heaven, I want to hear two things. 'Well done, good and faithful servant.' and 'Welcome home, Dad'."  Me too.

Seren, Jordan, Asher, I love you.  And I so look forward to the day I can finally see you. talk to you. embrace you, my heavenly treasures, in my arms.

I've come a long way in the past year.  God's grace has covered me.  And though I still don't understand...I know that I may never understand this side of heaven... I do trust.
And because of that, I am blessed.

Story Hour

The girls love days where we are racing from activity to activity.  Friend's houses...lunches in town...Pump it Up ...Grandma's house.  I always think "at least it will wear them out." Usually, it does. Though there are days where it only seems to key them up.  ea

It wears ME out. So at least one of us is predictable.  But I figure, they love it.  It's worth it.  I'll just get some sleep later on.  Like when they're in college.

Well, this morning was action packed. And the weather has been BEAUTIFUL!  I could live with weather like this year-round. Well...actually, let me take that back. I would like 2 weeks where we're dumped with snow.  And then, I'd love to magically and instantaneously return to this cloudy 80-degree weather.  But I digress.

First destination: Local Park. Which happened to be deserted! Because there have been days when there are children everywhere...and my girls get run over by 12-year-old boys who have better things to do than stop while my 3-year-old climbs the ladder.

We're there for 5 minutes tops before my favorite neighbor comes riding up! Now my girls have instant playmates of the same age, and I have a friend!  Ahh, life is good.

So we do the park thing.   We do the go-home-and-eat-lunch thing.  And then, we race to the library for Story time, something we don't normally do because of the 1pm time slot that conflicts with naptime, but oh well!  We're throwing caution...and quite possibly intelligent parenting skills...to the wind today. Live a little, right?

During Storytime, I'm watching my girls interact with the other children.  Aww...such sweet little friendships they're making.  "Okay everybody get in a circle for this game."   And the storylady pulls out a multi-colored parachute, instructing each child to grab a section.  All the kids go wild.  Pulling it up and down. Wildly.  All except for my oldest girl, who starts to "instruct" the others.

"Now everybody, you're not supposed to go fast. You're supposed to go slow." (something the storylady had said before she got busy getting the tape ready). I cringe as Charis continues to boss the other kids around. Though I have to say, she's really confident about it. (Should this make me happy or...?)

This picture, though you can't really tell, is Selah going wild with her portion of the parachute.  And Charis assessing the situation.  I wasn't trying to get a picture of Charis being "the boss."  But seriously, no matter when I took the picture, it seems that she was being the shadow of the teacher.  What the teacher said, she'd say, rather assertively, though not mean-spirited at all!  She was just wanting to enforce the teacher's instructions.

It's at this point, armed with an infant and surrounded by other moms, that I start to wonder.  What is my role in all of this?  Do I correct Charis in front of all these kids, telling her to not be bossy?  Do I say nothing?  Do I pretend I don't notice?

We're still pretty new to the area. Especially when it comes to parktime and storytime friendships since we usually go to another town for playdates. So I don't know many of these mothers very well yet. "Um, yes...that would be my daughter bossing your child around. What's your name? Wanna come to my house and play?" Yeah, doesn't really bode well with the whole introduction into their play circle.

Charis is the one to the far left, in blue...finger pointed. all the other children looking at her. *big sigh*

So as I'm inwardly cringing and wondering about what to do, the woman in front of me turns around and looks at me. You know, with "that look." The look that says "Aren't you going to do something?"

I decided at that moment to NOT say anything. And not because I wanted to make a statement in reference to the questioning-look from the woman in front of me.  It's just that I refuse to discipline my child for the sake of an adult's approval.  I didn't want her thinking that I was cowering under her glare concerning my extraverted child. (though I do have to say, I did gently explain things to Charis when she needed to use the restroom a few minutes later)Thankfully the other moms didn't seem to mind at all.  Their kids were having their own "child" moments as well, as children tend to do.  But anyway, the girls loved it!  They love the interaction...the budding friendships...the listening to a real, live teacher read books.  A fun time was had by all.  Well, except for that grouchy lady giving me the look.

Ironically, I had just told Jet last night before we went to bed that I didn't want to "micro-manage" the girls.   I didn't want to be a parent who was on top of their kid every second, overseeing and judging their every move, essentially waiting for them to make a mistake.  I want them to learn to be independent of me, to be able to branch out and make friendships without my involvement, and to be able to interact with others without me hovering near by "assessing the situation".

I know that all of my girls will most likely interact at one point or another where I'm tempted to "quiet" them or have them not be so aggressive or inquisitive.  I know that there are times that I will need to gently instruct them on how to interact appropriately.  But at the same time, I want to recognize that all of my children will be different from me.  They will interact differently from me because they are not me. They are Charis. Selah. Raegan.  Inherently designed to be unique.

I want to guide them into the best way of doing things.   At least in general terms. I just don't want to nit-pick them to death, so that they're unsure of their own abilities to interact with the world outside of my approval.  Sounds so easy...so obvious.  But I WANT my child to succeed. I want her to have friends and be liked.  What parent wouldn't?  So it can be a bit difficult TO bite my tongue when I see certain interactions.

Charis may have been a little inappropriate with the kids today.  But I'm glad that I didn't step in and correct her publicly.   I'm glad that I held my tongue and allowed her to try out and develop her leadership skills.  Yeah, maybe a couple of kids weren't sure what to think about it.  Maybe one woman thought twice about my parenting abilities.  But I am glad that I didn't crush the bold spirit that is in my little girl.

Now to refine it... that's another story. :)

The Man and his tool

I've said it before, but I will say it again:  To own a fixer-upper, you've gotta be committed! (as in dedicated...not insane asylum. Though there are days where I wonder)

Well, this weekend, we accidentally bumped into some inspiration and worked on the front of our home. I've been feeling "iffy"...migraines, sinus pressures, the whole nine yards of the head cold from hell... I wasn't too motivated to do a whole lot of anything. So we stayed home. Jet, being "homebound" and armed with my Dad's pressure washer and loads of testosterone decided to fire it up! You know, just to clean a "few things off."

Have you ever seen a man with a pressure washer?  Let me just say that dirt is no longer safe. Cars, houses, decks, windows, joggers running by... If it's got dirt, it will be scoured off.  The tougher the grime, the bigger the challenge, the better.  Because the man is armed with power. The loud. pressurized. motorized. water-filled hose kind of power. Stand back.

Thankfully, our hasn't-had-a-bath-in-ages-dog was tied up in the back yard.

Jet cleaned the front porch...and then the front porch posts.
Allow me to explain something.  Our house was built in 1903 (or somewhere around there).  And I'm not sure that it's ever encountered a good washing.  And I can't tell you when the last time the outside was painted. So when man-armed-with-beast-of-a-hose encounters old-house-in-need-of-a-paint-job, chips flew.  Paint chips.

Jet was just starting to scrap the remaining paint chips off here. The water pressure did most it of it for him! Whoops.

Thankfully though, he painted them! And they look amazing!  But no, no pictures of the finished product yet.  As the second story isn't finished.  And being that everything is currently white anyway, you wouldn't be able to tell the degree of difference unless you were seeing it in person.  Though I'm sure our entire neighborhood got tired of driving by and watching us stand out in the road, congratulating ourselves on our mad painting skills.  Yes, it looks that good.

Below is where he's cleaning off the second story. Can you see the difference!?  Our plan is definitely not to repaint it white!  I'm thinking something tan.  Looks nice. Hides dirt.

And yes, I did work as well.  Jet made the mess. I painted over it. Ahh...the lovely dynamic we have going.

So there you have it, we cleaned and painted parts of our exterior. And now...we're VERY motivated!  I love weekends where things get done!!  Who knew a lovely headcold could be the catalysts to such great things!?

And to think, I was just going to take a Sudafed and call it a day.

Week-in-review

The girls play so well together. I love that they are so close in age and enjoy doing the same things! Here are some of their highlights of the week.

Selah is definitely reaping the rewards of having a big sister that can read! Here Charis is reading children stories from the New Testament.

For Selah's birthday, she got a mess-proof paint kit.  Though I told my mom (who gave it to her) "Don't put it past my girls to figure out how to make it messy!" 

Raegan watching her big sisters from the kitchen floor. She may not be able to be involved yet, but she's definitely into watching every move they make.

Uh-huh. The top of the paint bottle...you know, that thing that guarantees that it won't be messy, exploded off the top.  Globs of paint came flying out.  So much for "mess proof".

The "finished" product. We had to stop painting before it was done because of the paint malfunction. Oh well...it was fun while it lasted.

Charis loves cutting!! And she actually does an AMAZING job...she can even do detail cutting work!

Selah loves using her glue stick! She loves being a big girl like Charis

The finished product! Raccoon puppets.

I have a dry erase board for letters and numbers. Charis was doing her letters and Selah was watching. Just to give Selah something to do, I handed her the ones with the numbers to trace. I was Amazed at how well she did! She just turned three! And we've never worked on her writing anything (even though she showed me months ago that she could write the letters A and E). Thank you Lord for self-motivated children, who learn despite me! 

She was actually upset at how "badly" she did, even though I was gushing over it.   So I took a picture and said that I was going to show it to everybody.  Her frown immediately turned into a laugh. "Really? Grandma and Granddaddy will see it?"  Yep. They will!  She left the room dancing and quite proud of herself. 

Here is a Christmas Tree that Charis drew and cut out all by herself. In fact, I didn't even know she was doing it. She's like me...she loves the Christmas season and everything about it 

And last but not least...THE COW. This is, by far, my favorite picture Charis has ever drawn. I love it!!! And will have it framed.

She had given it to me about an hour before Jet got home from work. When he got home, he saw it and said, "Charis!! This is awesome! Can I...?" I interrupted him. "Nope. don't even think it, buster. She gave it to ME!"

Hee hee... Charis loves making pictures for people.  And giving them away.  I'm just glad that I was the recipient of this lovely heifer. 

Asking Why

Charis is in the stage of asking "Why?"

The question, in and of itself, doesn't bother me at all.  When asked in terms of learning, of being educated, it's an amazing starting place. "Why does it snow?" "Why does the caterpillar go into a cocoon?" "Why....?"

But her habit, of late, has been to question every single "No." that I give.  Charis, don't sit on the arm of the chair.  Don't tilt the dining room chair backwards.   Please don't chew your shirt. "BUT WHY?"

And it had begun to get to me especially yesterday. Every single time I said "No, please don't do that." Instead of obeying, she'd say "Why?" or the very appealing "If I want to, I can." I, being the rational and ever-patient mom, got down on her level and said "You just need to obey. You don't need to ask why every time I say something."

Of course, my tender-hearted child cried.  And being someone who wants to please, she started to apologize profusely.  I took her in my lap...and suddenly felt the Holy Spirit's view of things come over me.  I started to say things that were NOT in my line of thinking only minutes before.

"Charis. It IS alright to ask why.   God likes it when you ask why.  So asking 'why?' isn't a bad thing. Okay?  Asking questions isn't a bad thing.  I just don't like it when your first reaction to everything I say you need to do is 'why?'   I'd like you to just obey.  So how about we make a deal?   I will be more patient when you ask why...and I'll give you the reasons, if there are some to give. And you just practice being obedient to what mommy needs you to do.  Alright?"

"Mommy, I love you so much." I knew at this point that my little girl felt understood. not controlled.

I never liked it as a little girl when I wasn't allowed to ask "why?" either.  Not that my parents were mean dictators...but they just were doing the same thing that I was.  Giving an "order" and expecting a Yes-sir-immediate-reaction on my part.  As a child, who is forever learning, that is a hard thing to do.

Yes, I recognize that immediate obedience does have its place and is an important part of what I need to instill in them. For instance, when they are running towards a road where a car is speeding close by. I can say "Stop!" and they'll just listen.

But there is another side to it all.   A part of their emerging personality that I need to protect, AS I'm training them to obey without question.

Not too long back I was having a conversation with the Lord.  I had asked him for something specific but was yet to see the answer.  And though I didn't understand his lack of response, I was trying to be the 'good little girl'.   You know, the understanding child that doesn't ask again, but just waits to see what the parent will do.  Jesus blew my mind with what he revealed to me.

In the Bible (Luke 11:5), in a section where Jesus is teaching about prayer, he tells a parable:

And he said to them, "Which of you who has a friend will go to him at midnight and say to him, 'Friend, lend me three loaves; for a friend of mine has arrived on a journey, and I have nothing to set before him.' And he will answer from within, 'Do not bother me. The door is now shut, and my children are with me in bed. I cannot get up and give you anything.'

I tell you, though he will not get up and give him anything because he is his friend, yet because of his persistance he will rise and give him whatever he needs. And I tell you, Ask, and it will be given you; Seek, and you will find; Knock, and the
door will be opened to you."

God went onto explain to me that I had lost my ability to "go after it" in prayer because as a little girl, I was punished if I continued to ask and ask and ask. And I had unknowingly transfered that into my prayer relationship with Him.

I was speechless.

And now, months later...as I now have a child who is very capable of challenging my patience with her continued asking and ceaseless "whys" I am reminded that I am the parent.  I am the one who is the mirror of what a relationship with the Father God is like.

*big sigh*

God, give me grace and patience as I am just entering this whole new stage of parenthood: "negotiations and explanations with my 4 year old". Please cover, with your mercy, the times that I screw it all up. Protect her fragile heart and the God-given desire to ask...to press...to not just be a robot-child.   Protect the sheer joy in the discovery to find out the whys and the hows and the whats of living.  Help me, in my desire to have things run smoothly, not crush that in her.

I know that these qualities are very needed in today's world!  The desire to find out the whys...the tenacity to not just do what someone else says you need to do...the ability to not just go for "status quo." I want my girls to have that! To have the sort of gusto that responds to peer pressure with:

"You will NOT run me over. You will NOT define my life. You will NOT expect me to go along with the crowd."

It's needed, especially in a world that is becoming less and less tolerant of Jesus, his morals, and those that follow Him.  And I do recognize that this whole "why" stage is just the beginning of her exercising those muscles and of understanding the reasons behind the way we think and act as a family.

God, give me the wisdom to find the balance as I strive to train her up to be obedient to what is right...whether or not she understands it.  And yet, the remain persistent and joyful in finding out the whys of life.

George Simmel German philosopher said
"He is educated who knows how to find out what he doesn't know."

...and I think:
He that is successful figures out how to Know and Possess that which he doesn't know.  And that all starts with asking "why?"