The Inspired Life of a Homeschool Mom

The other morning I got up early…well, earlier than everyone else anyway. It was the weekend so Dad was home. It had rained during the night. Really rained so that when I sat out on the porch with my coffee I could breathe in the wet earthy air. After living in the Pacific Northwest for sixteen years I grew to love the rain. I miss it here on the prairie. During the sparkly whiteness of the prairie winter I longed for the gray, cozy Washington winter.

I decided to go for a walk, enjoying the cool grayness. As I walked I thought about how we have lived in the Midwest for a year now. Moving is really hard, at least it was for me. Adjusting to everything being so different, the missing places in my heart where my friends should be. I left behind a life that I loved, fighting resentment, accepting what is. It hasn’t been easy. Grieving the loss of a baby. Sometimes it felt like my heart had grown flat. On auto pilot, trying to live from one day to the next.

As I walked I prayed and thought, along the fields, soy beans, corn, a gravel road. This is my life now. Cows stopped their grazing to look at me. I like them and I say,”Hi, good morning, cows.” They look at me with peaceful eyes, go back to their grass. Milk weed flowers grow in the ditches. They have a wonderful fragrance that wafts out to me in the mist. I pick some so I can hold it my nose and smell it as I go, letting the sticky milk drip onto my wrist. I think how we will be able now to hatch Monarch Butterflies in jars like I did when I was a girl. Year after year my siblings and I lined the pantry window sill with jars. We never tired of watching the life cycle of the beautiful butterfly. We always released them with a sort of hushed awe into my mom’s flower beds.

By the time I turn back the sun is burning away the mist. I can still see our place , even though I’m a good couple miles away. Distance is deceiving here.  You know they say where ever you go there you are? Well, I knew then that it’s true. I am still here. The inspired life that I want to live, full of poetry, music, art, good and beautiful things. Lofty aspirations of educating my children, capturing their hearts and souls. Those things can still be mine. My heart fills with praise because I know it’s true, I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. I can be happy here just as well as there. I will grow here and flourish, I will live the inspired life of a homeschool mom.

And once I am being carried on the wings of inspiration, I know wonderful things will happen! I am planning a literature based study of The United States for this coming year. Not so much the ordinary history stuff but a study of the regions and people and geography. I am thinking of books that capture the hearts of the people that make the deep south, New England, the rugged cowboyness of the Southwest, the amazing, strong women who somehow still laughed and loved and accepted the wind and sod houses on the prairie….. it’s going to be good. We’ll do regional cooking and take field trips in our minds. We’ll make a huge map and a time line. We’ll live through the dust bowl and join the gold rush. We’ll slip away with the runaway slaves, following the drinking gourd.

I have a feeling it’ll be another good year this year. Please, if anything cool came to mind while reading this leave me a comment. The plans are still forming in my mind so I am definitely open to suggestions!

“Make yourselves nests of pleasant thoughts, bright fancies, faithful sayings; treasure houses of precious and restful thoughts, which care cannot disturb nor poverty take away from you, houses built without hands for your souls to live in.” John Ruskin

Just Thinking………Homeschool Apostates, Following Men, and Free to Be Me!

Just Thinking………Homeschool Apostates, Following Men, and Free to Be Me!

After Nine Years of Homeschooling Here I Am

https://alovestoryunderthecottonwoodtrees.blogspot.com

I Hope You’ll Check Out My New Blog, I Won’t Be Writing on Here Anymore!

I started a new blog and from now on I will be writing on that one as well as over here. I hope you’ll come check it out! http://www.alovestoryunderthecottonwoodtrees.blogspot.com

Pink~ It’s the New Black

She came into the world with scarcely a ruffle. Serene and beautiful was her birth. She was immediately enveloped in love by her Daddy and me and by her two young adult cousins, who were present at the birth. We named her Meredith Pearl, our sixth child. She was born at home, and I shall never forget those sweet honeymoon days after her birth, the spring sunshine flooding in our bedroom windows, a house full of love, visitors, and happiness because a child had brought into the world!

And, so her life has followed suit, she is sweet and gentle.  She doesn’t mind playing by herself. Quietly, she will busily play with her dollies. Many times we have suddenly said,”Where is Meredee?” Only to find her happily playing with her doll on the stairwell or in her bedroom.

Blue eyes is pretty sure that she will be a writer when she is older. She has a wonderful, pleasant imagination. One day, not long ago, the older kids and I were busy with school studies and she popped in the living room to announce that she was going swimming. It was a warm, sunny day, she got on her swim suit and went on the front porch, which was her pool, and had a lovely swim. We stopped what we were doing to watch through the window. With a huge smile on her face, her arms paddling round and round, she “swam” all about the porch, laughing with delight. Oh, we laughed until we nearly cried watching her! I’m sure she had just as much fun as if she actually were swimming! Of course, we all had to smoother her with smooches and hugs and tell her how adorable she was!

A couple weeks ago she told us, “My birthday is coming up, and after I turn four I don’t want you guys calling me cute anymore!” Almost every night she climbs into our bed, she dives right in the middle and burrows down under the covers, curls up by Daddy and goes back to sleep. Sometimes, she doesn’t even bother to start out in her own room. She just climbs in after prayers and says, “I want to sleep by you, Daddy!” Usually we just look at each other and say,”O, you’re only little once. Why not?”

She LOVES, LOVES, LOVES pink! She saw some sparkly pink skinny jeans at Wal Mart and really wanted them. (They were on clearance for $3, so it was her lucky day!) Bright pink boots at Good Will, had to have them! Her older sister told me that if she were the mom, she would not let her child wear those boots, especially to church! But you know what? You’re only four once. To her, if it’s pink, it’s beautiful and it matches- anything! (Besides, I had to remind her sister that when she was about this age, she wore bright pink rubber boots, everywhere! And a pair of snazzy pink sunglasses, even to church.)

When I was pregnant with her little sister Lucy, I ended up having to be on bed rest for the last six weeks. To pass the time, I made an online scrapbook/baby book for her. She loves to take it off the shelf, cuddle up by one of us and have us read it to her. It begins with my thoughts and prayers while I was pregnant with her, includes her birth story and ends at her first birthday. “See how cute I was?” She’ll say. “You guys loved me soo much!”

And still we do, little Meredee! Truly, you have been a gift to us from the Lord! “An heritage of the Lord” just like the Bible says! A preacher from our church once told us that he had done a word study on this verse.  He said the word heritage here means an heirloom, something valuable and precious to be passed from one generation to the next. Isn’t that beautiful and fitting?

May He help us, each day, to live in His wisdom and grace, so that we may carefully care for this precious heirloom of the Lord!

 

                            “The Lord has blessed thee, thou hast grown.                                                   What seeds of love thy life has sown!”

Willa Cather Speaking to My Heart

I just finished reading My Antonia by Willa Cather. Why have I never known this was such a beautiful book? I think I never would have appreciated it as much as now, though. In a beautiful, sad way it spoke to my “adjusting to the prairie heart”. At least I know English and do not take up residence in a dugout. At least “our Papa” has twinkly eyes and is happy. I am so thankful that my babies have been warm and well fed. After living through a winter here, I have a renewed sense of respect for the courage and determination of the women who first came and settled on the lonely, wind swept prairies.

 In the beginning of the book the main character, Jimmy, becomes an orphan and goes to live with his grandparents in Nebraska. This is how he describes his drive from the train station to their farm:

“”Cautiously I slipped from under the buffalo hide, got up on my knees and peered over the side of the wagon. There seemed to be nothing to see; no fences, no creeks or trees, no hills or fields. If there was a road, I could not make it out in the faint starlight. There was nothing but land: not a country at all, but the materials out of which countries are made. No, there was nothing but land……..I had the feeling that the world was left behind, that we had got over the edge of it, and were outside of man’s jurisdiction.  I had never before looked up at the sky when there was not a familiar mountain ridge against it. But this was the complete dome of heaven, all there was of it. I did not believe my dead father and mother were watching me from up there; they would still be looking for me at the sheep-fold down by the creek, or along the white road that lead to the mountain pastures. I had left even their spirits behind me. The wagon jolted on, carrying me I knew not wither. I don’t think I was homesick. If we never arrived anywhere, it did not matter. Between the earth and that sky I felt erased, blotted out. I did not say my prayers that night: Here, I felt, what would be would be.”

I had to choke up when I read that aloud to Blue eyes. Having grown up here, I don’t think he can ever really understand what an adjustment this move has been for me. (But I love him anyways,  and when he takes me in his arms, loves away my sadness, prays for us and tells me it’s going to be ok, I believe him.)

And I am sure that next fall I will think of this description of  the coming of winter:

“The pale, cold light of the winter sunset did not beautify- it was like the light of truth itself. When the smoky clouds hung low in the west and the red sun went down behind them, leaving a pink flush on the snowy roofs and the blue drifts, then the wind sprang up afresh, with a kind of bitter song, as if it said: “This is reality, whether you like it or not. All those frivolities of summer, the light and shadow, the living mask of green that trembled over everything, they were lies, and this is what was underneath. This is the truth.” It was if we were be punished for loving the loveliness of summer.”

That is too sad! But……I will not think of that now, because it is spring, and I am planning to “love the loveliness of summer” with wild abandon. I will let the “living mask of green” fool me. I will deal with the truth of winter when it gets here.

For now I will think of this:

“When spring came, after the hard winter, one could not get enough of the nimble air. Every morning I woke with a fresh consciousness that winter was over. There were none of the signs that I used to watch for in Virginia, no budding woods or blooming gardens. There was only- spring itself; the throb of it, the light restlessness, the vital essence of it everywhere; in the sky, in the swift clouds, in the pale sunshine, in the warm, high wind- rising suddenly, impulsive and playful like a big puppy that pawed you and then lay down to be petted. If I had been tossed down blindfolded on that red prairie, I should have known that it was spring.”

The Lunar Eclipse; My God How Great Thou Art!

In the wee hours of morning, we woke up our five oldest kids to see the complete lunar eclipse. “The Blood Moon”. The moon was full, the stars shone glittery and bright. They stumbled down stairs, wrapped up in their blankets. We left all the lights off and watched through the window. The dark coziness made us talk in hushed voices.

We watched as the earth’s shadow slowly passed over the moon. And our hearts were full of praise, to think of the celestial bodies, set in their courses and moving in exact precision, like a beautifully wound clock  set by the hand of the Maker.

And I felt in my soul, that I was part of an ancient audience, watching as indeed “the heavens declare His handiwork.” Blue eyes stood with his arms around me and our children clustered in front of us before the window, awed into silent praise.

Earlier in the evening, we had talked of the Passover. Quietly we went back to our beds, knowing that the door posts of our hearts have been sprinkled with the blood of the true Passover Lamb. Knowing that because of this, the angel of death will pass over us and we have life through His name, and like the children of Israel, we are free from bondage and on our way to the promised land! Truly, we have tasted and seen that the Lord is good!

“When thou liest down, thou shalt not be afraid: thou shalt lie down, and thy sleep shall be sweet.” Proverbs 3:24

Now today, my heart and mind is full of Carl Boberg’s

How Great Thou Art  

O Lord my God! When I in awesome wonder consider all the worlds thy hands have made, I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder, Thy power through out the universe displayed!

Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee, how great Thou art, how great Thou art! Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee; How great Thou art, how great Thou art!

And when I think that God, His Son not sparing, sent Him to die, I scarce can take it in;-That on the cross my burden gladly bearing, He bled and died to take away my sin;-

Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee; How great Thou art, how great Thou art!

And on a Lighter, Sweeter Note……Anne of Avonlea

My oldest daughter wrote this excerpt from Anne of Avonlea in her journal this morning, “so she will never forget it.”

“Look, do you see that poem?” she (Anne)  said suddenly,  pointing.

“Where?” Jane and Diana stared, as if expecting to see Runic rhymes on the birch trees.

“There…..down in the brook……that old green, mossy log with the water flowing over it in smooth ripples that look as if they’d been combed, and that single shaft of sunlight falling right athwart it, far down into the pool. Oh, the most beautiful poem I ever saw!”

“I should rather call it a picture,” said Jane, “A poem is lines and verses.”

“Oh dear me, no.” Anne shook her head with its fluffy wild cherry coronal positively. “The lines and verses are only the outward garments of the poem and are no more really it than your ruffles and flounces are you, Jane. The real poem is the soul within it…and that beautiful bit is the soul of an unwritten poem. It is not every day one sees a soul…even of a poem.”

(page 111, chapter 13, Anne of Avonlea by L.M.Montgomary)

I think I shall have to add the Anne books to summer reading list again this year! They are always so good no matter how many times you read them!

April is Sexual Abuse Awareness Month; Together We Can Make the World a Safer Place

 

April is Sexual Abuse Awareness month.

Childhood sexual abuse is real.

 It happens and without healing it has the potential to leave emotional and spiritual scars that can last a lifetime.

One out of four women is a survivor. That’s someone you know. That’s someone you love.

Innocence lost. Trust shattered.

Happiness and hope replaced by shame and self hatred.

Don’t let this be your daughter. Or your son.

Know the facts. Be informed. Talk to your kids.

I know, it’s uncomfortable. We’d all rather pretend it doesn’t happen.

But it does.

Childhood sexual abuse is real and it happens.

Suffering through a few uncomfortable conversations with your kids is  nothing compared to what it could prevent.

Being stretched beyond your comfort zone is part of the mom package. Remember labor?

If you won’t get the facts and protect your kids, who will?

Be committed to watching your kids like a hawk.

Most perpetrators are male relatives.

Be alert.

Never put your kids in risky situations. Listen to your kids.

They may not be able to articulate why uncle “so and so” is scary or gives them the creeps but that’s okay.

Respect what they are saying.

Never doubt your mother intuition.

If someone makes you uncomfortable, trust your gut feeling.

Go with it.

Remember you don’t need to explain anything to anyone. You only need to answer to God.

Be known as a mama bear when it comes to protecting your kids.

Most childhood sexual abuse happens between the ages of six and eleven.

Do your kids really need to be having sleep overs and spending much time with other adults without you before then anyway?

You think something like that would never happen in your family?

You’re sure you don’t know or associate with any pedophiles or other kids who are being or have been abused?

One out of every four.

That’s across all demographics and includes religious and nonreligious families.

We are raising up the next generation.

Be brave.

Be committed with me.

Together.

One parent at a time.

Together.

Let’s not let that statistic rise on our watch.

Childhood sexual abuse. It happens.

By being vigilant and proactive we can make the world a safer place.

Be brave.

Please feel free to share this post on your social networks. The first step towards prevention is awareness

Let Me Be a Mom Who Prays

Years ago when I was a new mom, my Grandmother gave me a book that she said she had enjoyed once upon a time herself. It was printed in 1957 and it has a charming vintage feel about it that I love. Back when life seemed less complex. When it was a given that moms were at home being housewives and raising up the next generation. When fathers provided for their families and a woman endeavored to make her home a haven of rest and comfort for her hardworking man.

The book is held together now by a headband(?!) Don’t ask……it must have been what was handy one night when the binding first started falling apart. I keep it in a vintage suitcase with some other meaningful letters, poems and writings pertaining to motherhood that I have received over the years. Many of them from my same dear Grandmother. I keep the suitcase beside my bed and sometimes when everybody’s tucked in and Blue eyes falls asleep before me and I am not quite feeling sleepy yet I dig around in my “mama encouragement box” for something nice to read.

Several times through out the years when I have been in the mood for something light and encouraging I have picked up this book. I still love it just as much as I did the first time I read it. I wanted to share with you some of what I read last night. It made my eyes fill with tears and my heart swell with inspiration and I fell asleep praying for the precious hardworking man sound asleep beside me and all the babies that the Lord has given to us.

A Mother’s Wages

by Elizabeth Walker Strachan

A Moody Press Publication 1957

Chapter 3: Prayer

“The truly wealthy children, the children to be envied, are those born to praying parents. Even the wisest do not fully understand prayer and all that it does. But one of the many remarkable things about prayer is that those who pray the most are those most convinced of its great potential. ……….And in spite of perplexing times, those who have prayed know that God does answer prayer, and there is a vast difference in prayed-for children and those of nonpraying parents. Prayer prepares a child’s heart for early conversion. Prayer can solve the many difficult problems of child rearing. Prayer enriches every single phase of a child’s life. Prayer brings our children that “blessing of the Lord, it maketh rich and He addeth no sorrow with it.” (Psalm 10:23)

“When should a mother pray? Before the birth of her child until her last breath is spent she should be holding that child before God for His blessing.  However else we may fail our children, may God help us not to fail them in prayer. May He make us women of prayer.”

I woke up still thinking about it this morning. (A little side note: I am getting ready to bring home two dairy goats! I am super excited! Before he fell asleep last night Blue eyes told me that he was sure I would be dreaming of goats and he was right! So after I wiped the cobwebs of dreamy goats who were playing on fancy wooden play structures (thanks to all those dear little goat pins I was pinning on pintrest last night!;) from my mind, I was still thinking about it.)

I was reminded of Job, the Bible tells us that he daily made supplication and offered sacrifices for each of his children “for Job said, It may be that my sons have sinned and cursed God in their hearts. Thus did Job continually.” (Job 1:5) I thought of how we are exhorted to pray continually and without ceasing. I thought of my own prayerful Grandparents and the many ways their prayers have blessed my life.

Let us, Lord, be mamas who pray!

“If ye ask anything in my name, I will do it.” John 14:14