I managed to get way behind in blog reading. Relaxing and catching up a little, I came across a great post from the Large Family Mothering blog. I have pasted a portion of the post below. Lots of wisdom to be found in these words!
Caveat: I'm not a fan of the Quiverfull Movement, as this blog author is (15 children), but I do enjoy most of her posts, nonetheless. Quiverfull Christians feel that every Christian family should have as many children as God allows. While they are entitled to believe this and band together, I think it's a devisive, distracting movement in the Christian church. Andrea Yates, the mother who killed her five children due to post-partum psychosis, was a member of this movement, although the movement tries to distance itself from Andrea's story. In my mind, Andrea's story is an example of why we mustn't burden Christians with extra-Scriptural rules. Scripture says to be fruitful and multiple, but it doesn't say how many times, or for how long. Regardless of how we personally interpret the word "fruitful", we can't try to define it for another family. It goes both ways, in terms of the passing judgment; large families are judged frequently too.
Anyhow, I glean much from this blog author's hard-fought wisdom, so I overlook the whole Quiverfull matter. Her life hasn't been easy (raised in a broken, non-Christian home), but her heart is on fire for the Lord. She adores her husband and children, and her posts reflect wisdom, humility, and strength. Their family recently emerged out of many months of joblessness.
Here is the excerpt from her post:
____________________________________________
Depression, loneliness, and fear are the weapons the enemy wields. I know from experience just how heavy the burden can be. I understand just what it means to be completely demoralized and hopeless.
I have learned that we need to be like the builders of the wall of Jerusalem; working while ready with weapons.
And our weapons are not worldly, but Heavenly powerful. They are as follows:
The Word of God
Thankfulness
Praise
Prayer
Singing
If we want to fight effectively, we must be in the Word day and night. Only the Word of God can change our old patterns of thinking. It is cleansing and refreshing.
Being thankful keeps us from being darkened in our minds. There is nothing as hateful as being in the presence of someone who sees everything as being half-empty. And be ye thankful is a commandment that we must take seriously; even for bad things, trusting that God will turn them into good, according to Romans 8:28.
Praising and magnifying the Lord is the way we must live. There are too many voices that tell us that God is small, irrelevant or non-existent. When we adore and magnify the Lord, all those other voices are silenced and great courage rises up in our hearts. We are obeying the MOST HIGH! Once praise in practiced, it is like we become energized with a bolt of lightening so that everything we do becomes lighter and we experience true joy.
We must learn to pray, and often. This prayer is the type that your whole life is a communion and conversation with the Holy Spirit. Wonder what to do about a disciplinary problem? Pray. Wonder how to stretch the budget? Pray. Wonder how to keep from blowing your top with your husband? Pray. And pray expectantly—He loves to answer these prayers for us.
Lastly, singing is something that will boost yourself and your whole household. This is something mankind has done from the beginning. When we sing, we engage our whole being, and we cause our minds and emotions to be engaged in agreement to the new spirit God has created within us. I have found scripture songs to be the most effective in giving me strength, direction and courage throughout the day. I have read accounts of saints that were raised by Godly mothers who had this practice of singing, and this is one of their fondest memories.
Father, you know that I am weak, and you know that I cannot do this work without You today. Like King David, help me to encourage myself through Your word and sing songs to You in praise and thanksgiving. May it not only lighten my heart, but the hearts of my husband and children. There is so much heaviness and so many attacks; be our refuge and strong tower today as we bless Your name.
In the name of Your precious Son, Jesus.
Amen
Posted by ladyofvirtue at 5:59 AM
Showing posts with label other blogger posts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label other blogger posts. Show all posts
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Hope - Julie Lessman
Our fridge, purchased at a used applicance place for $200 four years ago, quit working yesterday. My father came to the rescue, purchasing us a new, bottom of the line 20.9 cubic-feet fridge made by Whirlpool. The manufacturer estimates it will last two to ten years. It happens to be the exact same model we bought used, which never made it to ten years for us, or for the original owners--not even combined. I think I'd better start praying over this fridge.
I'm discouraged about my dad having to help us out. Consequently, I don't have anything good to say today. But I found the post pasted below on The Seekers blog. I thought it might perk you up nicely today. It's about hope. Stay with it--it's a good story no matter where you're at in your life.
_______________________________________________
Author - Julie Lessman
“Are you okay?” Someone shook me hard. I lay there, unable to speak, eyes welded closed.
“Are you okay” the voice came again, louder this time, more insistent. No answer. I felt the press of fingers to my pulse followed by a quick sweep of my mouth, clearing all obstructions. With a pinch of my nose, someone began to breathe life into me while a gentle hand compressed against my chest, finger on my heart …
Okay, just for the record—I did not choke on a piece of chicken at an American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW) Conference or ever have to be resuscitated in any way. Uh … that is … at least not physically. But emotionally and spiritually? Yep, I was a goner. Cried enough tears that I thought the housekeeping staff would think I was heisting their Kleenex. But something amazing happened to me at the very first ACFW conference I ever attended—I received CPR in a very unlikely manner, and I gotta tell ya, folks—it saved my life. So I thought since we are less than a week out from this year’s ACFW conference in Denver, it might behoove me to share about this life-saving experience I received when the Holy Spirit administered a heavy dose of truly miraculous CPR—Cry, Pray, Repent.
Oh, how I wish, wish WISH someone had told me what I’m about to tell you before I went to my very first writers conference in Houston, Texas in 2003. It was the American Christian Fiction Writers Conference, only back then, it was ACRW, American Christian Romance Writers. I went by myself without knowing a soul, which is a hard thing to do, as so many of you are aware. Up until that point, I had done everything I could to put me on the path to publication—took fiction-writing courses at the community college, attended small writing seminars and local RWA chapter meetings, queried publishers until I was blue in the face, and entered contests until I was in hock over binder clips.
I knew in my gut that the time had come for me to venture far from home and interface with other writers of my ilk. I mean how difficult could this be? Although by nature I am a recluse of sorts, I have the misfortune of having an outgoing personality, so the word “shy” just isn’t part of my vocabulary. So I smiled and mixed and mingled until my teeth ached and made a lot of acquaintances, but no real “friend” that I felt I could connect with. Everything felt surface to me, and it seemed like everybody I spoke to was either published, had an agent, a contract in the works or fulls being considered.
That night I cried on the phone to my husband, and I’m talking major sobbing! I told him I felt lonely and jealous and like publication would never happen for me. He comforted me and prayed with me and told me everything would all right.
But it wasn’t. The next day I would attend a seminar, then go up to my room and cry, clean my face and go back down to smile some more. That went on all day as the loneliness and jealousy seemed to grow, and that night my poor husband got another earful of long-distance weeping. God love him, he prayed for me and encouraged me and told me to put my hope in God. Yeah, right, I thought to myself at the time, and how is that going to change these waterworks? That night I cried myself to sleep, rivers of tears seeping into my pillow.
What happened next is nothing short of supernatural. The next morning, even before my eyelids peeled open, my brain was pelted with hope scriptures in rapid-fire succession:
Now may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you will abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. - Romans 15:12-14
And hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us. - Romans 5:4-6
No one whose hope is in you will ever be put to shame. - Psalm 25:2-4
Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from him. - Psalm 62:4-6
But I will hope continually, and will yet praise thee more and more. - Psalm 71:13-15
Now, first of all, I wasn’t aware that I even knew that many hope scriptures. In fact, they shocked me so much, that my eyes popped open and I lunged for the Gideon Bible inside the nightstand drawer. I flipped it open to the first few pages where they list scriptures by subject and scanned the list for “Hope.” It wasn’t there, so I settled on the scripture for “Fear.” There were only two, mind you, and I quickly paged to the first one: Hebrews 13:5.
Let your conversation be without covetousness; and be content with such things as ye have: for he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.
Come again? What does fear or lack of hope have to do with covetousness and ingratitude? Give me a break, the Gideons have TONS of scriptures to choose from and they choose this???? I blinked several times … and then the Holy Spirit nailed my butt to the wall.
I had spent the last two days of this expensive conference doing NOTHING but coveting other writers’ success and complaining that it would never happen for me. My husband had forked over $800 bucks (airfare, hotel room, conference fee) so I could fly to Houston and instead of being grateful, I was utterly lonely and jealous. Talk about a one-two punch! I fell to my knees and sobbed again, only this time my tears were tears of repentance. I told God I was sorry for being such a brat, and I prayed for every woman that I had been jealous of, that God would bless the socks off of them. I asked Him to change my attitude and give me hope and help me not to be lonely the rest of the conference.
For the umpteenth time that weekend, I cleaned up my face, put on my name badge and squared my shoulders to go downstairs. The elevator opened, and I flashed a smile to the couple in the back and turned to face the door. The woman gently tapped me on the shoulder and said, “You’re from St. Louis? I live in Illinois, just twenty minutes across the river.”
I turned around and will NEVER forget the look of kindness and warmth in that woman’s eyes—like an angel sent from God. She was an ACFW author named Diana Brandmeyer (who, by the way, has a GREAT new book coming out with Barbour next January entitled Hearts on the Road, so check it out on her website at http://brandmeyer.homestead.com/). Anyway, she invited me to sit with her and her husband for breakfast. Trust me, conference food had never tasted so good!
Later that day, there was a contest for book giveaways. You simply had to write about someone who had positively affected you at the conference so far, and if the ACFW Master of Ceremonies (Brandilyn, of course!) picked your comments out of the hat, the person you wrote about won a free book. My eyes smarted with tears as I dashed a quick note about the kind woman in the elevator “whose eyes radiated love and warmth—Diana Brandmeyer.”
If you can believe it, out of over 350 women and like 2 men (grin), Brandilyn picked a handful of notes to read, and one of them was the note I had written about Diana, which referred to her “eyes full of love and warmth.” My heart jumped with excitement … until Brandilyn read my name instead of Diana’s. My heart froze when I realized I must have written my name down by mistake, thus winning a book for myself instead of Diana. Brandilyn called me up, and I was too embarrassed to tell her the truth, so I intended to return the book after the function was over. Imagine my shock when a few moments later, Brandilyn read another note about a woman “whose eyes radiated love and warmth,” only this one was the note I had written about Diana! Yes, you guessed it—two women who broke the yoke of loneliness off of each other in an elevator wrote almost exactly the same thing about the other. Go ahead, tell me that’s not a God thing!
That conference turned out to be a pivotal time in my career, not only because of the amazing friendship/critique partnership that Diana and I still share today, or even the very encouraging paid critique I received from author Tracey Bateman later on that day, but because of the invaluable lessons that the Holy Spirit taught me from the pages of a hotel-room Gideon Bible.
Yes, contests, writing classes and writers’ conferences are all important tools in traveling the road to publication. But the most important tools needed are spiritual—to keep your heart clean of jealousy by praying for those who incite it, to praise and thank God wherever you are in your journey instead of complaining, and to renew your mind with hopes scriptures instead of despair. Because the bottom line is, “hope never fails” … and neither does He.
So, I would love to hear your own conference CPR stories—I know you all have them (uh, especially Mary Connealy and Melanie Dickerson!), and there are a lot of first-time conference attendees that could use the encouragement. And for everyone that leaves a comment, I’ll toss your name in the hat for a chance to win a signed copy of your choice of one of the three books in The Daughters of Boston series. Good luck … and take a deep breath!
I'm discouraged about my dad having to help us out. Consequently, I don't have anything good to say today. But I found the post pasted below on The Seekers blog. I thought it might perk you up nicely today. It's about hope. Stay with it--it's a good story no matter where you're at in your life.
_______________________________________________
Author - Julie Lessman
“Are you okay?” Someone shook me hard. I lay there, unable to speak, eyes welded closed.
“Are you okay” the voice came again, louder this time, more insistent. No answer. I felt the press of fingers to my pulse followed by a quick sweep of my mouth, clearing all obstructions. With a pinch of my nose, someone began to breathe life into me while a gentle hand compressed against my chest, finger on my heart …
Okay, just for the record—I did not choke on a piece of chicken at an American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW) Conference or ever have to be resuscitated in any way. Uh … that is … at least not physically. But emotionally and spiritually? Yep, I was a goner. Cried enough tears that I thought the housekeeping staff would think I was heisting their Kleenex. But something amazing happened to me at the very first ACFW conference I ever attended—I received CPR in a very unlikely manner, and I gotta tell ya, folks—it saved my life. So I thought since we are less than a week out from this year’s ACFW conference in Denver, it might behoove me to share about this life-saving experience I received when the Holy Spirit administered a heavy dose of truly miraculous CPR—Cry, Pray, Repent.
Oh, how I wish, wish WISH someone had told me what I’m about to tell you before I went to my very first writers conference in Houston, Texas in 2003. It was the American Christian Fiction Writers Conference, only back then, it was ACRW, American Christian Romance Writers. I went by myself without knowing a soul, which is a hard thing to do, as so many of you are aware. Up until that point, I had done everything I could to put me on the path to publication—took fiction-writing courses at the community college, attended small writing seminars and local RWA chapter meetings, queried publishers until I was blue in the face, and entered contests until I was in hock over binder clips.
I knew in my gut that the time had come for me to venture far from home and interface with other writers of my ilk. I mean how difficult could this be? Although by nature I am a recluse of sorts, I have the misfortune of having an outgoing personality, so the word “shy” just isn’t part of my vocabulary. So I smiled and mixed and mingled until my teeth ached and made a lot of acquaintances, but no real “friend” that I felt I could connect with. Everything felt surface to me, and it seemed like everybody I spoke to was either published, had an agent, a contract in the works or fulls being considered.
That night I cried on the phone to my husband, and I’m talking major sobbing! I told him I felt lonely and jealous and like publication would never happen for me. He comforted me and prayed with me and told me everything would all right.
But it wasn’t. The next day I would attend a seminar, then go up to my room and cry, clean my face and go back down to smile some more. That went on all day as the loneliness and jealousy seemed to grow, and that night my poor husband got another earful of long-distance weeping. God love him, he prayed for me and encouraged me and told me to put my hope in God. Yeah, right, I thought to myself at the time, and how is that going to change these waterworks? That night I cried myself to sleep, rivers of tears seeping into my pillow.
What happened next is nothing short of supernatural. The next morning, even before my eyelids peeled open, my brain was pelted with hope scriptures in rapid-fire succession:
Now may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you will abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. - Romans 15:12-14
And hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us. - Romans 5:4-6
No one whose hope is in you will ever be put to shame. - Psalm 25:2-4
Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from him. - Psalm 62:4-6
But I will hope continually, and will yet praise thee more and more. - Psalm 71:13-15
Now, first of all, I wasn’t aware that I even knew that many hope scriptures. In fact, they shocked me so much, that my eyes popped open and I lunged for the Gideon Bible inside the nightstand drawer. I flipped it open to the first few pages where they list scriptures by subject and scanned the list for “Hope.” It wasn’t there, so I settled on the scripture for “Fear.” There were only two, mind you, and I quickly paged to the first one: Hebrews 13:5.
Let your conversation be without covetousness; and be content with such things as ye have: for he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.
Come again? What does fear or lack of hope have to do with covetousness and ingratitude? Give me a break, the Gideons have TONS of scriptures to choose from and they choose this???? I blinked several times … and then the Holy Spirit nailed my butt to the wall.
I had spent the last two days of this expensive conference doing NOTHING but coveting other writers’ success and complaining that it would never happen for me. My husband had forked over $800 bucks (airfare, hotel room, conference fee) so I could fly to Houston and instead of being grateful, I was utterly lonely and jealous. Talk about a one-two punch! I fell to my knees and sobbed again, only this time my tears were tears of repentance. I told God I was sorry for being such a brat, and I prayed for every woman that I had been jealous of, that God would bless the socks off of them. I asked Him to change my attitude and give me hope and help me not to be lonely the rest of the conference.
For the umpteenth time that weekend, I cleaned up my face, put on my name badge and squared my shoulders to go downstairs. The elevator opened, and I flashed a smile to the couple in the back and turned to face the door. The woman gently tapped me on the shoulder and said, “You’re from St. Louis? I live in Illinois, just twenty minutes across the river.”
I turned around and will NEVER forget the look of kindness and warmth in that woman’s eyes—like an angel sent from God. She was an ACFW author named Diana Brandmeyer (who, by the way, has a GREAT new book coming out with Barbour next January entitled Hearts on the Road, so check it out on her website at http://brandmeyer.homestead.com/). Anyway, she invited me to sit with her and her husband for breakfast. Trust me, conference food had never tasted so good!
Later that day, there was a contest for book giveaways. You simply had to write about someone who had positively affected you at the conference so far, and if the ACFW Master of Ceremonies (Brandilyn, of course!) picked your comments out of the hat, the person you wrote about won a free book. My eyes smarted with tears as I dashed a quick note about the kind woman in the elevator “whose eyes radiated love and warmth—Diana Brandmeyer.”
If you can believe it, out of over 350 women and like 2 men (grin), Brandilyn picked a handful of notes to read, and one of them was the note I had written about Diana, which referred to her “eyes full of love and warmth.” My heart jumped with excitement … until Brandilyn read my name instead of Diana’s. My heart froze when I realized I must have written my name down by mistake, thus winning a book for myself instead of Diana. Brandilyn called me up, and I was too embarrassed to tell her the truth, so I intended to return the book after the function was over. Imagine my shock when a few moments later, Brandilyn read another note about a woman “whose eyes radiated love and warmth,” only this one was the note I had written about Diana! Yes, you guessed it—two women who broke the yoke of loneliness off of each other in an elevator wrote almost exactly the same thing about the other. Go ahead, tell me that’s not a God thing!
That conference turned out to be a pivotal time in my career, not only because of the amazing friendship/critique partnership that Diana and I still share today, or even the very encouraging paid critique I received from author Tracey Bateman later on that day, but because of the invaluable lessons that the Holy Spirit taught me from the pages of a hotel-room Gideon Bible.
Yes, contests, writing classes and writers’ conferences are all important tools in traveling the road to publication. But the most important tools needed are spiritual—to keep your heart clean of jealousy by praying for those who incite it, to praise and thank God wherever you are in your journey instead of complaining, and to renew your mind with hopes scriptures instead of despair. Because the bottom line is, “hope never fails” … and neither does He.
So, I would love to hear your own conference CPR stories—I know you all have them (uh, especially Mary Connealy and Melanie Dickerson!), and there are a lot of first-time conference attendees that could use the encouragement. And for everyone that leaves a comment, I’ll toss your name in the hat for a chance to win a signed copy of your choice of one of the three books in The Daughters of Boston series. Good luck … and take a deep breath!
Monday, September 7, 2009
free writing critiques
Terry Tiffany (from the blog "Terry Tiffany Inspirational Writer") wrote the paragraphs below, and sent them to the "So You Want To Be Published" blog, for a free critique from a published writer.
I wasn't going to write any blog posts until Thursday, but this post on Tiffany's blog excited me! I wanted to share it. The caliber of writing shown below is what I aspire to, someday, when I'm done with diapers and pouring drinks and sweeping up Cheerios. It will lend purpose to my empty-nest years. All I can do now is write, write, write. And read more fiction to study the craft.
The critiquing author emphasizes that good writing will show the reader the scene, not tell. That, and "good beefy verbs", are something to which I'll aspire. And I must use fewer commas!
Who knew one could get a free writing education via blogs! Exciting!
__________________________________________________
Lizzy Batron’s sandal-clad foot played with the accelerator like a teenager with a new license. Faster. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel and stomped the pedal. Lizzy catapulted past the scene of her three-year old crime as though Satan himself chased her.
Maybe he did.
The Chevy pick-up fishtailed through the curves, ramming her shoulder against the door. One hundred yards later, when she could breathe again, she wriggled her fingers, feeling hot blood course through them.
Still alive. As always.
Only then did her foot ease up on the gas.
Ten minutes later, she parked her truck alongside the grassy lane of Abington Cemetery. Her T-shirt caught on the rusty doorframe as she slid from the cab. Dang. She flinched when she caught sight of the jagged tear—an exact match to the one in her heart.
She kicked the door shut.
Ornate benches and faded Memorial Day flags directed her path until she came upon her husband’s familiar headstone. Lizzy studied his grassy mound, sprinkled with red peonies her mother-in-law had planted earlier that spring. Then she glanced back down the slight incline. “You always said you wanted the best view, Tom. Guess you got your wish.”
______________________________________________
A published writer made comments about Terri's writing. See below.
Lizzy Batron’s sandal-clad foot played with the accelerator like a teenager with a new license.(Very nice) Faster. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel and stomped the pedal. Lizzy catapulted past the scene of her three-year old crime as though Satan himself chased her. (great word pictures).
Maybe he did. (Nice use of a paragraph break. Gives good impact.)
The Chevy pick-up fishtailed through the curves, ramming her shoulder against the door. One hundred yards later, when she could breathe again, she wriggled her fingers, feeling hot blood course through them.
Still alive. As always.
Only then did her foot ease up on the gas.
Ten minutes later, she parked her truck alongside the grassy lane of Abington Cemetery. Her T-shirt caught on the rusty doorframe as she slid from the cab. Dang. She flinched when she caught sight of the jagged tear—an exact match to the one in her heart. (Stunning. Great paragraph. Good imagery.)
She kicked the door shut. (Great, shows her emotion.)
Ornate benches and faded Memorial Day flags directed her path until she came upon her husband’s familiar headstone.Really nice visual writing here. I can see it. Lizzy studied his grassy mound, sprinkled with red peonies her mother-in-law had (When you say "earlier that spring," you don't need the "had" since the reader now knows it happened in the past.) planted earlier that spring. Then she glanced back down the slight incline. “You always said you wanted the best view, Tom. Guess you got your wish.”
Published writer's additional comments:
This is well written with BEEFY BEAUTIFUL VERBS! Yes, I'm shouting!!! Hooray for great verbs!!!!
This is beautifully written. It's visual. Deep. It's showing, not telling. You can see the desperation of the protagonist, and a strong hint of conflict. Study this one, folks. I'm not one to dole out compliments.
I wasn't going to write any blog posts until Thursday, but this post on Tiffany's blog excited me! I wanted to share it. The caliber of writing shown below is what I aspire to, someday, when I'm done with diapers and pouring drinks and sweeping up Cheerios. It will lend purpose to my empty-nest years. All I can do now is write, write, write. And read more fiction to study the craft.
The critiquing author emphasizes that good writing will show the reader the scene, not tell. That, and "good beefy verbs", are something to which I'll aspire. And I must use fewer commas!
Who knew one could get a free writing education via blogs! Exciting!
__________________________________________________
Lizzy Batron’s sandal-clad foot played with the accelerator like a teenager with a new license. Faster. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel and stomped the pedal. Lizzy catapulted past the scene of her three-year old crime as though Satan himself chased her.
Maybe he did.
The Chevy pick-up fishtailed through the curves, ramming her shoulder against the door. One hundred yards later, when she could breathe again, she wriggled her fingers, feeling hot blood course through them.
Still alive. As always.
Only then did her foot ease up on the gas.
Ten minutes later, she parked her truck alongside the grassy lane of Abington Cemetery. Her T-shirt caught on the rusty doorframe as she slid from the cab. Dang. She flinched when she caught sight of the jagged tear—an exact match to the one in her heart.
She kicked the door shut.
Ornate benches and faded Memorial Day flags directed her path until she came upon her husband’s familiar headstone. Lizzy studied his grassy mound, sprinkled with red peonies her mother-in-law had planted earlier that spring. Then she glanced back down the slight incline. “You always said you wanted the best view, Tom. Guess you got your wish.”
______________________________________________
A published writer made comments about Terri's writing. See below.
Lizzy Batron’s sandal-clad foot played with the accelerator like a teenager with a new license.(Very nice) Faster. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel and stomped the pedal. Lizzy catapulted past the scene of her three-year old crime as though Satan himself chased her. (great word pictures).
Maybe he did. (Nice use of a paragraph break. Gives good impact.)
The Chevy pick-up fishtailed through the curves, ramming her shoulder against the door. One hundred yards later, when she could breathe again, she wriggled her fingers, feeling hot blood course through them.
Still alive. As always.
Only then did her foot ease up on the gas.
Ten minutes later, she parked her truck alongside the grassy lane of Abington Cemetery. Her T-shirt caught on the rusty doorframe as she slid from the cab. Dang. She flinched when she caught sight of the jagged tear—an exact match to the one in her heart. (Stunning. Great paragraph. Good imagery.)
She kicked the door shut. (Great, shows her emotion.)
Ornate benches and faded Memorial Day flags directed her path until she came upon her husband’s familiar headstone.Really nice visual writing here. I can see it. Lizzy studied his grassy mound, sprinkled with red peonies her mother-in-law had (When you say "earlier that spring," you don't need the "had" since the reader now knows it happened in the past.) planted earlier that spring. Then she glanced back down the slight incline. “You always said you wanted the best view, Tom. Guess you got your wish.”
Published writer's additional comments:
This is well written with BEEFY BEAUTIFUL VERBS! Yes, I'm shouting!!! Hooray for great verbs!!!!
This is beautifully written. It's visual. Deep. It's showing, not telling. You can see the desperation of the protagonist, and a strong hint of conflict. Study this one, folks. I'm not one to dole out compliments.
Monday, August 31, 2009
inspiration
I just read the most inspiring post. Yes, blogging and blog reading is a time suck, with which I maintain a love/hate relationship. But when the needs of my four children--especially my teething baby--deplete me before the clock strikes 12 noon, it helps enormously to come into my bedroom to fetch something, and to steal a few minutes to read a Christian post. Especially when the Lord manages to post just the right blog, at just the right time. Sometimes the fit and timing are SO perfect, there's no question that the Lord is responsible.
Before I share the post I just read, let me elaborate on why I'm in an overwhelmed state. Now's the time to roll your eyes. Yes, I'll wait.
It stems from a few issues. I am still trying to read through the introductory pages of my second-grade teachers' editions. It is slow going, although I've progressed enough to know that I chose very good resources for Daniel (Bob Jones University Press).
In addition, I am constantly thinking about the schedule I'll write. It has to fit with Don's school and study needs, with the girls' naps, with meals, with extra-curricular activities, and with laundry and meal cleanup. Exercise has to be worked into it, as well as grocery runs, appointments, etc. In short, the task is an all-consuming one.
Complicating everything is Anna's teething. She must have a lower tolerance for pain than the others. She is sleeping about as well as a newborn, and her discomfort seems to be stretching out to nearly three months worth of upheaval. The crazy sleep schedule is causing my migraines to worsen, which makes it harder to keep up.
Furthermore, I decided upon learning that it would go down to 40 degrees last night, that I'd better have Don get the fall/winter storage boxes out of the shed so that I can get our clothes washed and sorted for giving away, or for hanging up in closets. The house is littered with piles of clothes, which is normal for us when the seasons change; we have inadequate closet space. This time I'm trying to be more thorough and give away more, so I can reduce closet clutter. We always wear far less than I hang up.
So considerable chaos reigns right now. It would help enormously if I would start getting up before the family to shower, unload the dishwasher, start a load of clothes, and put oatmeal on the stove. My exhaustion always prevents that from happening, in addition to the fact that setting an alarm in our bedroom, which we share with Anna, would wake her up and require Don to care for her while I shower. She is a Momma's girl to the core, so being alone with Daddy makes her cry, which causes the others to wake prematurely. Anna loves having Daddy around, so long as Momma is close by. Perhaps because he isn't her milking cow? I wonder.
When things are this disorganized, we Mommas need only to remember what our mission is. Most decidedly, it is not writing the perfect schedule, having perfectly stocked closets, or rising in the morning at a time we deem unselfish. All those things help, sure. But keeping our eyes fixed on Him, and on what He would have us do as mothers, is the main thing. He would not overwhelm us. He would not require more than we can give. He would not drive us into migraine territory. It is our stubbornness, in wanting our own way, that leads to these problems.
As this blog author writes, He must increase, and we must decrease. That is the answer. And I thank the Lord for having me read it at this moment. This God-inspired blog author brilliantly spills it all out, for us hungry Mommas to drink up.
Before I share the post I just read, let me elaborate on why I'm in an overwhelmed state. Now's the time to roll your eyes. Yes, I'll wait.
It stems from a few issues. I am still trying to read through the introductory pages of my second-grade teachers' editions. It is slow going, although I've progressed enough to know that I chose very good resources for Daniel (Bob Jones University Press).
In addition, I am constantly thinking about the schedule I'll write. It has to fit with Don's school and study needs, with the girls' naps, with meals, with extra-curricular activities, and with laundry and meal cleanup. Exercise has to be worked into it, as well as grocery runs, appointments, etc. In short, the task is an all-consuming one.
Complicating everything is Anna's teething. She must have a lower tolerance for pain than the others. She is sleeping about as well as a newborn, and her discomfort seems to be stretching out to nearly three months worth of upheaval. The crazy sleep schedule is causing my migraines to worsen, which makes it harder to keep up.
Furthermore, I decided upon learning that it would go down to 40 degrees last night, that I'd better have Don get the fall/winter storage boxes out of the shed so that I can get our clothes washed and sorted for giving away, or for hanging up in closets. The house is littered with piles of clothes, which is normal for us when the seasons change; we have inadequate closet space. This time I'm trying to be more thorough and give away more, so I can reduce closet clutter. We always wear far less than I hang up.
So considerable chaos reigns right now. It would help enormously if I would start getting up before the family to shower, unload the dishwasher, start a load of clothes, and put oatmeal on the stove. My exhaustion always prevents that from happening, in addition to the fact that setting an alarm in our bedroom, which we share with Anna, would wake her up and require Don to care for her while I shower. She is a Momma's girl to the core, so being alone with Daddy makes her cry, which causes the others to wake prematurely. Anna loves having Daddy around, so long as Momma is close by. Perhaps because he isn't her milking cow? I wonder.
When things are this disorganized, we Mommas need only to remember what our mission is. Most decidedly, it is not writing the perfect schedule, having perfectly stocked closets, or rising in the morning at a time we deem unselfish. All those things help, sure. But keeping our eyes fixed on Him, and on what He would have us do as mothers, is the main thing. He would not overwhelm us. He would not require more than we can give. He would not drive us into migraine territory. It is our stubbornness, in wanting our own way, that leads to these problems.
As this blog author writes, He must increase, and we must decrease. That is the answer. And I thank the Lord for having me read it at this moment. This God-inspired blog author brilliantly spills it all out, for us hungry Mommas to drink up.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
A Great Blogger
I wasn't getting any updates on the Amy's Humble Musings blog during the last month, but I've discovered that she has been writing. She is one of the best bloggers I've come across. Like me, you probably don't really have time for blog reading. I steal time to read a paragraph here, a paragraph there. When you can steal some time, read her August posts. She is incredibly funny.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
backwards domestics
Footnotes: Past Deadline: Monkey See, Monkey Do
Click on the above post for a really funny treat! Stephanie's writing is technically perfect, and always so engaging and funny! She writes a weekly humor column in her local newspaper.
My husband usually puts Emily's clothes on backwards (and sometimes the baby's diapers). He tries really hard to determine which way is the front. Tags are his main hint, but girl's clothes don't always have tags, and sometimes the tags are in the front.
What funny, backwards thing does your husband do domestically?
Click on the above post for a really funny treat! Stephanie's writing is technically perfect, and always so engaging and funny! She writes a weekly humor column in her local newspaper.
My husband usually puts Emily's clothes on backwards (and sometimes the baby's diapers). He tries really hard to determine which way is the front. Tags are his main hint, but girl's clothes don't always have tags, and sometimes the tags are in the front.
What funny, backwards thing does your husband do domestically?
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Oh, No. Yet Another
About 90 minutes after I applied the Oil of Oregano, Anna broke out in a body rash. I panicked, thinking she was allergic and would go into shock. Not likely, I know. But there was still that feeling of "Oh, no! What have I done?"
Since learning of her anemia, I've been so nervous about her health! In a saner moment, I remembered that babies younger than 12 months tend to get rashes with their fevers and viruses--something that happens less often in the older baby.
I called the doctor to see if she should be seen, but he was only having office hours until noon today, and my family was gone with the van. He suspects the rash is related to the virus. No, I don't usually call my doctor this often. Rarely, in fact.
He said it is unlikely that a resistance would have been built up against the anti-fungal cream, by the way.
I'll take her into the office tomorrow if the body rash doesn't clear. If it's an allergic reaction, I want to learn to identify it as such. All trace of fever is gone, and her face, shoulders and trunk are the main rashy areas. It's probably a non-specific viral illness, which are common in summer.
Sorry. Another boring post to read. I figure each sentence I construct--no matter how boring the topic--leads me one step closer to writing for a part-time living someday.
Someday in the very distant future.
Now this is a post worth reading, found below. Joy, the author, is wise beyond her years. She grew up in a solid Christian home, and it shows. I had trouble linking this, as I downloaded a new browser (Chrome), which I'm not used to yet. Here is the cut and paste of her post:
August 19, 2009
Coming to the hard stops of soul care...
I have a dear friend who has gently been watching over me from a distance.
Yesterday, she asked me how I was doing- really doing. Not the "I'm fine, just great!" question. More like the "how are you and God these days?" question. Followed hard upon with the next question- "are you taking care of yourself?"
In my dear friend's mind, the two are quite intertwined. One can't be answered without the other, because to her, taking care of oneself naturally means that one is meeting with God too. Me? I tend the separate out the two by default- as if one could exist without the other, like somehow one could technically be okay without the God-flow in our lives. And there, I err. And I know it too, that I cannot survive, cannot breathe in the space of my days without the sustaining force of my Lord, and yet- and yet...I starve more often than not. I hold myself back from the provision He has so graciously given me, mine for the taking if I would only stop. And listen. And pray.
Sometimes when my friend asks these hard questions, I shrink within. I know she expects an honest answer, and the honesty is sometimes too appalling. Her gentle touches seem to wound, but they are the best kind- the type that excise the infection from a gash and set it to proper healing. But yesterday, I bloomed with the joy that I could answer positively to both questions. Yes, God and I were meeting. He was there, and I was attendant. And yes, I was taking care of myself, as best as I can possibly could with a brand new babe. She probed a bit further, just to be sure, as she knows I have struggled with postpartum depression in the past. And as we talked, I mentioned that it bothered me that it took me until my fifth child, my miracle baby, to finally learn the art of self care. Of soul care. Was it not important with the other four children? Was not my need for sustenance important all the other days that I have walked this journey? I am not sure why. I am still puzzling over this.
As our conversation drew to a close, I was thinking about why this time was different, why I could honestly answer my friend, without one shred of guilt, that yes, I was caring for myself in both the physical and the spiritual sense.
Sustenance.
I tend to try to do too many things at once. Just one more task, one more minute, one more, one more, one more. Until am I exhausted, drawn out, and unable to function. This is my biggest danger when a new baby is in the house, and I knew it. Saw it for the trap it was, and had been prayerfully considering it all summer long. It wasn't until I read Katherine's post, No NAK , that something clicked in my mind. Here's a small snippet of what she said:
NAK is online slang for "nursing at keyboard." I've made this mistake in the past. I won't do it again. The amount of time I spend nursing my newborn is tremendous. If I used every nursing session as a chance to check email, Facebook or Google Reader I would be on the computer for most of the day and night. Nursing is a special time to bond with one's baby, building the foundation for a lifelong relationship. I can't bond and build anything if I'm balancing a nursing baby on an elbow and knee and staring at a screen.
Now, Katherine's post was talking about time spent online in general, and this was just a small part of the whole article. But she goes on from this paragraph to say that she has set up her space near her rocking chair as place for prayer. (She's Orthodox.) I think that's what clicked together in my mind as I read this over a month ago now, before Josiah was born. I feel like I've definitely come to a place of balance with my online time, and I don't feel the least bit guilty about my current usage. My thoughts tend to reflect Katherine's in practically all points. But on the other hand, I am horrible about regular prayer times. It is one of those things that constantly discourages me about myself, because as I've said, it's akin to starving!
I resolved at that point that nursing and prayer time, as much as I was able, were to be definitively linked after Josiah was born. I had also decided, in tandem, that no longer would I try to do forty things at once while nursing (you'd be amazed what you can do with a sling or a moby and a willing baby). I would sit down, I would put my feet up, I would have something to drink nearby, and I would stop. The only thing I would 'allow' myself was the chance to read, but even then, only in the early evening hours.
For the last three weeks, that is exactly what I have been doing. Every two and a half, three hours, I stop. I rest. I pray. I marvel at the miracle of Josiah.
And wouldn't you know, I am in a much better head space, emotionally, physically, mentally, spiritually?
Sustenance.
Ann Voskamp has been doing a series on spiritual disciplines, and this month's focus has been on prayer. Today she wrote an article called prayer: why we struggle (and how not to). Please click over and read the whole thing, the whole series. It is very good. But here is what caught my eye:
"I never notice it when I just pray after reading Scripture, early or late, when we pray before and after meals. Prayer's short, convenient. It's only when I began to follow the way of Jesus and the early church in fixed hour prayer, feeding my soul at certain fixed times like I eat at certain fixed times, and I was confronted with this consistent struggle to cease working and kneel in prayer, that I realized the true ugliness of my lack of prayer.
It's a startling, wrenching thing to discover that it's not time, or busyness, or pressing concerns that prevent one from prayer. The extent of prayer in one's life is a direct function of whether something else has been set up as more important than God. "
My nursing/prayer times immediately came to mind. It has been very hard for me to come to these hard stops and well, stop. To meet God. It has been a constant struggle actually, to just be still. But even in these short three weeks, I realize how much the better I am for it. And I am shamed by that realization, that statement, that something else has been set up as more important than God. And I question, with Ann, as to why I let my soul starve when the answer is so very simple. Yet I cannot help but see the sort of humor my Lord has, as he has brought me to sustenance through the very act of sustaining- of nursing! As I am nourishing Josiah, through God's grace, the Lord is nourishing me. It makes me smile to think upon it, this gentle irony. Oh that I would learn! His ways are always better.
Isaiah 66:11-13
11 For you will nurse and be satisfied
at her comforting breasts;
you will drink deeply
and delight in her overflowing abundance."
12 For this is what the LORD says:
"I will extend peace to her like a river,
and the wealth of nations like a flooding stream;
you will nurse and be carried on her arm
and dandled on her knees.
13 As a mother comforts her child,
so will I comfort you;
and you will be comforted over Jerusalem."
Posted by Joy at 01:55:03 PM in Listening, Momma musings
Since learning of her anemia, I've been so nervous about her health! In a saner moment, I remembered that babies younger than 12 months tend to get rashes with their fevers and viruses--something that happens less often in the older baby.
I called the doctor to see if she should be seen, but he was only having office hours until noon today, and my family was gone with the van. He suspects the rash is related to the virus. No, I don't usually call my doctor this often. Rarely, in fact.
He said it is unlikely that a resistance would have been built up against the anti-fungal cream, by the way.
I'll take her into the office tomorrow if the body rash doesn't clear. If it's an allergic reaction, I want to learn to identify it as such. All trace of fever is gone, and her face, shoulders and trunk are the main rashy areas. It's probably a non-specific viral illness, which are common in summer.
Sorry. Another boring post to read. I figure each sentence I construct--no matter how boring the topic--leads me one step closer to writing for a part-time living someday.
Someday in the very distant future.
Now this is a post worth reading, found below. Joy, the author, is wise beyond her years. She grew up in a solid Christian home, and it shows. I had trouble linking this, as I downloaded a new browser (Chrome), which I'm not used to yet. Here is the cut and paste of her post:
August 19, 2009
Coming to the hard stops of soul care...
I have a dear friend who has gently been watching over me from a distance.
Yesterday, she asked me how I was doing- really doing. Not the "I'm fine, just great!" question. More like the "how are you and God these days?" question. Followed hard upon with the next question- "are you taking care of yourself?"
In my dear friend's mind, the two are quite intertwined. One can't be answered without the other, because to her, taking care of oneself naturally means that one is meeting with God too. Me? I tend the separate out the two by default- as if one could exist without the other, like somehow one could technically be okay without the God-flow in our lives. And there, I err. And I know it too, that I cannot survive, cannot breathe in the space of my days without the sustaining force of my Lord, and yet- and yet...I starve more often than not. I hold myself back from the provision He has so graciously given me, mine for the taking if I would only stop. And listen. And pray.
Sometimes when my friend asks these hard questions, I shrink within. I know she expects an honest answer, and the honesty is sometimes too appalling. Her gentle touches seem to wound, but they are the best kind- the type that excise the infection from a gash and set it to proper healing. But yesterday, I bloomed with the joy that I could answer positively to both questions. Yes, God and I were meeting. He was there, and I was attendant. And yes, I was taking care of myself, as best as I can possibly could with a brand new babe. She probed a bit further, just to be sure, as she knows I have struggled with postpartum depression in the past. And as we talked, I mentioned that it bothered me that it took me until my fifth child, my miracle baby, to finally learn the art of self care. Of soul care. Was it not important with the other four children? Was not my need for sustenance important all the other days that I have walked this journey? I am not sure why. I am still puzzling over this.
As our conversation drew to a close, I was thinking about why this time was different, why I could honestly answer my friend, without one shred of guilt, that yes, I was caring for myself in both the physical and the spiritual sense.
Sustenance.
I tend to try to do too many things at once. Just one more task, one more minute, one more, one more, one more. Until am I exhausted, drawn out, and unable to function. This is my biggest danger when a new baby is in the house, and I knew it. Saw it for the trap it was, and had been prayerfully considering it all summer long. It wasn't until I read Katherine's post, No NAK , that something clicked in my mind. Here's a small snippet of what she said:
NAK is online slang for "nursing at keyboard." I've made this mistake in the past. I won't do it again. The amount of time I spend nursing my newborn is tremendous. If I used every nursing session as a chance to check email, Facebook or Google Reader I would be on the computer for most of the day and night. Nursing is a special time to bond with one's baby, building the foundation for a lifelong relationship. I can't bond and build anything if I'm balancing a nursing baby on an elbow and knee and staring at a screen.
Now, Katherine's post was talking about time spent online in general, and this was just a small part of the whole article. But she goes on from this paragraph to say that she has set up her space near her rocking chair as place for prayer. (She's Orthodox.) I think that's what clicked together in my mind as I read this over a month ago now, before Josiah was born. I feel like I've definitely come to a place of balance with my online time, and I don't feel the least bit guilty about my current usage. My thoughts tend to reflect Katherine's in practically all points. But on the other hand, I am horrible about regular prayer times. It is one of those things that constantly discourages me about myself, because as I've said, it's akin to starving!
I resolved at that point that nursing and prayer time, as much as I was able, were to be definitively linked after Josiah was born. I had also decided, in tandem, that no longer would I try to do forty things at once while nursing (you'd be amazed what you can do with a sling or a moby and a willing baby). I would sit down, I would put my feet up, I would have something to drink nearby, and I would stop. The only thing I would 'allow' myself was the chance to read, but even then, only in the early evening hours.
For the last three weeks, that is exactly what I have been doing. Every two and a half, three hours, I stop. I rest. I pray. I marvel at the miracle of Josiah.
And wouldn't you know, I am in a much better head space, emotionally, physically, mentally, spiritually?
Sustenance.
Ann Voskamp has been doing a series on spiritual disciplines, and this month's focus has been on prayer. Today she wrote an article called prayer: why we struggle (and how not to). Please click over and read the whole thing, the whole series. It is very good. But here is what caught my eye:
"I never notice it when I just pray after reading Scripture, early or late, when we pray before and after meals. Prayer's short, convenient. It's only when I began to follow the way of Jesus and the early church in fixed hour prayer, feeding my soul at certain fixed times like I eat at certain fixed times, and I was confronted with this consistent struggle to cease working and kneel in prayer, that I realized the true ugliness of my lack of prayer.
It's a startling, wrenching thing to discover that it's not time, or busyness, or pressing concerns that prevent one from prayer. The extent of prayer in one's life is a direct function of whether something else has been set up as more important than God. "
My nursing/prayer times immediately came to mind. It has been very hard for me to come to these hard stops and well, stop. To meet God. It has been a constant struggle actually, to just be still. But even in these short three weeks, I realize how much the better I am for it. And I am shamed by that realization, that statement, that something else has been set up as more important than God. And I question, with Ann, as to why I let my soul starve when the answer is so very simple. Yet I cannot help but see the sort of humor my Lord has, as he has brought me to sustenance through the very act of sustaining- of nursing! As I am nourishing Josiah, through God's grace, the Lord is nourishing me. It makes me smile to think upon it, this gentle irony. Oh that I would learn! His ways are always better.
Isaiah 66:11-13
11 For you will nurse and be satisfied
at her comforting breasts;
you will drink deeply
and delight in her overflowing abundance."
12 For this is what the LORD says:
"I will extend peace to her like a river,
and the wealth of nations like a flooding stream;
you will nurse and be carried on her arm
and dandled on her knees.
13 As a mother comforts her child,
so will I comfort you;
and you will be comforted over Jerusalem."
Posted by Joy at 01:55:03 PM in Listening, Momma musings
Monday, August 17, 2009
out of my own heart
I really loved this post on parenting. Every bit is straight out of my own heart.
My Anna Grace and her bout of teething is kicking my behind good. She's running a temperature and struggling to nurse and waking us up every hour or so. Zombie city around here. I really needed this post this morning. What a great blog!
My Anna Grace and her bout of teething is kicking my behind good. She's running a temperature and struggling to nurse and waking us up every hour or so. Zombie city around here. I really needed this post this morning. What a great blog!
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Canadian Healthcare
I recently asked two Canadian bloggers to give us details about the Canadian health care system, which is known to provide universal coverage. I thought it might help us sort through the partisan "facts" we're being given about reforming health care here in America. You will find the Canadian responses below. Thank you so much, ladies, for taking the time to do this!
Don and I are concerned about the tax burden coming our way from a health-care overhaul. We agree that we need a system that covers everyone, but coupled with the higher energy bills forced on us by Cap and Trade, higher taxes will undoubtedly force me--and other stay-at-home moms--into the workforce. Moreover, we might be forced to obtain cheap, low-quality daycare. Our gas and electric together already run between $280 and $325/month. While not having health care is a huge worry, not being able to raise my own children is an even bigger burden--it's a heartbreaker actually.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Authored by Sandi, from the A Mother's Musings blog.
This is such a hot and difficult topic. For the record I am an American who's been living in Canada for 11 years.
There are pros and cons to both systems. Health Care in Canada is NOT free as others seem to think. The taxes are high IMO and we pay a monthly fee, yet when we couldn't pay it was free. The crazy thing about that though is they base your coverage off your last year's income. So if you made 100,000 last year....your med coverage is based on that when you are unemployed the next year. Doesn't make too much sense.
In Canada you do wait for things. If you have a heart attack they deal with it but several other non life-threatening yet painful surgeries are cancelled to do so. I remember with one of the babies I lost at 12 weeks, I spent 5 hours in the hospital waiting for the DNC, with IV all hooked up ready to go. I was sent home because of some emergency and was told they had no idea when I could get in again to have it done. They said my only option was meds to force it. My baby had been gone for 4 weeks and even with that risk I was sent home. It does feel like at times you have to be dying to get attention. Waiting for a hip replacement for 18 months is a real quality of life issue.
But I also have a friend whose husband was diagnosed with cancer and he was taken care of right away. You wait for MRI's, which shouldn't wait. The waiting list to get a child evaluated for ADHD, Austism, etc. is up to 2 years where I live. We went private and fortunately have great extended medical through my husband's work. If you don't have extended or money ....you wait.
When government runs everything with a heavy hand, that spells trouble to me.
My personal experience in Canada--no tomatoes please--is that this health care system has created an entitlement mentality. People go to emerg for silly things because it won't cost them extra money. Doctor's offices become revolving doors instead of a place to get "needed" care. It is almost impossible where I live to get a family doctor; they aren't taking patients.
Yet, the socialist way is that all are equal and shouldn't go without care due to lack of money. Which is a great idea and I agree, but how to do that practically is the dilemma.
Yet again, there is a quality of life issue that comes up. When my son was pre-natally diagnosed with T-18, they wrote him off and told me they WOULD NOT medically help him when he was born. They can legally do that on the grounds that he wouldn't have a full life anyway. They even suggested I starve him if he did live through labor. Let's just say they got an earful.
I did have four births and 2 miscarriages without paying a dime above our monthly fee and taxes so it "feels" like it's free, but nothing is ...is it!
Not sure if this helps.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Authored by Steph, from the Footnotes blog.
First off, no system is perfect. Sandi is right - there are pros and cons to both. I also agree that, technically, our health care is not free. We do pay higher taxes in Canada. My parents traveled in the States last summer and were amazed by how inexpensive it was to eat in a restaurant. Once you pile on the taxes here, it can get costly. I also agree with Sandi's entitlement comment. This is something that annoys me - I hate people going to emerge for hangnails. I consider very carefully before I go to the doctor because I know the system is sometimes stretched.
I think what astounds me the most about the American reaction is that it sounds to me (and forgive me if I am wrong or oversimplifying) that what is being proposed would simply guarantee coverage for people who don't have insurance. I think many politicians are opting for partisan politics and scare-mongering rather than trying to find ways to make this work, which is typical of democracy. I was amazed to learn that millions and millions of Americans don't have health insurance. The idea that there are people in the U.S. who opt not to go to the doctor for something truly serious because they will have to pay for it is so foreign to me - and I think that is an unfortunate thing for a developed nation.
Yes, our taxes are higher. Yes, our system is overburdened. Yes, we have a shortage of doctors in some communities (they can make more money in the States so that's where many of them go). Yes, sometimes wait times are longer. But these are all things that an injection of cash can fix, and up until the economic recession, government surpluses helped. Wait times vary depending on the community, but if it's an emergency you're dealt with. My mom has had two knee replacements. She had to wait several months, but didn't pay a dime. My dad has had heart surgery (quadruple bypass) and colon surgery (cancer) and was treated in a reasonable timeframe and didn't pay a dime. I have had two babies and two miscarriages. I had good care and didn't pay a dime.
I am a Canadian and have lived in the same community for most of my life. I was fortunate to have the same doctor for about 30 years before he left his practice, and was lucky enough to find another doctor in my town even though there is a doctor shortage. My experiences with our health care system have, so far, been good. Not everyone has positive experiences and, yes, there can be glitches, but the comfort of knowing that if I am sick I don't have to think about seeking help - I wouldn't trade that.
I think governments - yours and mine - need to put people first more often. I would rather see my tax dollars go to health care and the environment than to many other "priorities" that have been deemed in Canada. Maybe both of our governments need to think about redirecting cash spent on other initiatives. After all, healthy people can achieve great things.
I don't know if that helps...no tomatoes here, I hope! :)
Don and I are concerned about the tax burden coming our way from a health-care overhaul. We agree that we need a system that covers everyone, but coupled with the higher energy bills forced on us by Cap and Trade, higher taxes will undoubtedly force me--and other stay-at-home moms--into the workforce. Moreover, we might be forced to obtain cheap, low-quality daycare. Our gas and electric together already run between $280 and $325/month. While not having health care is a huge worry, not being able to raise my own children is an even bigger burden--it's a heartbreaker actually.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Authored by Sandi, from the A Mother's Musings blog.
This is such a hot and difficult topic. For the record I am an American who's been living in Canada for 11 years.
There are pros and cons to both systems. Health Care in Canada is NOT free as others seem to think. The taxes are high IMO and we pay a monthly fee, yet when we couldn't pay it was free. The crazy thing about that though is they base your coverage off your last year's income. So if you made 100,000 last year....your med coverage is based on that when you are unemployed the next year. Doesn't make too much sense.
In Canada you do wait for things. If you have a heart attack they deal with it but several other non life-threatening yet painful surgeries are cancelled to do so. I remember with one of the babies I lost at 12 weeks, I spent 5 hours in the hospital waiting for the DNC, with IV all hooked up ready to go. I was sent home because of some emergency and was told they had no idea when I could get in again to have it done. They said my only option was meds to force it. My baby had been gone for 4 weeks and even with that risk I was sent home. It does feel like at times you have to be dying to get attention. Waiting for a hip replacement for 18 months is a real quality of life issue.
But I also have a friend whose husband was diagnosed with cancer and he was taken care of right away. You wait for MRI's, which shouldn't wait. The waiting list to get a child evaluated for ADHD, Austism, etc. is up to 2 years where I live. We went private and fortunately have great extended medical through my husband's work. If you don't have extended or money ....you wait.
When government runs everything with a heavy hand, that spells trouble to me.
My personal experience in Canada--no tomatoes please--is that this health care system has created an entitlement mentality. People go to emerg for silly things because it won't cost them extra money. Doctor's offices become revolving doors instead of a place to get "needed" care. It is almost impossible where I live to get a family doctor; they aren't taking patients.
Yet, the socialist way is that all are equal and shouldn't go without care due to lack of money. Which is a great idea and I agree, but how to do that practically is the dilemma.
Yet again, there is a quality of life issue that comes up. When my son was pre-natally diagnosed with T-18, they wrote him off and told me they WOULD NOT medically help him when he was born. They can legally do that on the grounds that he wouldn't have a full life anyway. They even suggested I starve him if he did live through labor. Let's just say they got an earful.
I did have four births and 2 miscarriages without paying a dime above our monthly fee and taxes so it "feels" like it's free, but nothing is ...is it!
Not sure if this helps.
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Authored by Steph, from the Footnotes blog.
First off, no system is perfect. Sandi is right - there are pros and cons to both. I also agree that, technically, our health care is not free. We do pay higher taxes in Canada. My parents traveled in the States last summer and were amazed by how inexpensive it was to eat in a restaurant. Once you pile on the taxes here, it can get costly. I also agree with Sandi's entitlement comment. This is something that annoys me - I hate people going to emerge for hangnails. I consider very carefully before I go to the doctor because I know the system is sometimes stretched.
I think what astounds me the most about the American reaction is that it sounds to me (and forgive me if I am wrong or oversimplifying) that what is being proposed would simply guarantee coverage for people who don't have insurance. I think many politicians are opting for partisan politics and scare-mongering rather than trying to find ways to make this work, which is typical of democracy. I was amazed to learn that millions and millions of Americans don't have health insurance. The idea that there are people in the U.S. who opt not to go to the doctor for something truly serious because they will have to pay for it is so foreign to me - and I think that is an unfortunate thing for a developed nation.
Yes, our taxes are higher. Yes, our system is overburdened. Yes, we have a shortage of doctors in some communities (they can make more money in the States so that's where many of them go). Yes, sometimes wait times are longer. But these are all things that an injection of cash can fix, and up until the economic recession, government surpluses helped. Wait times vary depending on the community, but if it's an emergency you're dealt with. My mom has had two knee replacements. She had to wait several months, but didn't pay a dime. My dad has had heart surgery (quadruple bypass) and colon surgery (cancer) and was treated in a reasonable timeframe and didn't pay a dime. I have had two babies and two miscarriages. I had good care and didn't pay a dime.
I am a Canadian and have lived in the same community for most of my life. I was fortunate to have the same doctor for about 30 years before he left his practice, and was lucky enough to find another doctor in my town even though there is a doctor shortage. My experiences with our health care system have, so far, been good. Not everyone has positive experiences and, yes, there can be glitches, but the comfort of knowing that if I am sick I don't have to think about seeking help - I wouldn't trade that.
I think governments - yours and mine - need to put people first more often. I would rather see my tax dollars go to health care and the environment than to many other "priorities" that have been deemed in Canada. Maybe both of our governments need to think about redirecting cash spent on other initiatives. After all, healthy people can achieve great things.
I don't know if that helps...no tomatoes here, I hope! :)
Monday, July 13, 2009
Attempting to homeschool with toddlers around?
This post includes excellent tips on meeting the challenge of schooling older kids with toddlers/babies around.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Good Reading
The author of the Making Home blog is taking about two months off. She left this gem of a post, containing links to great articles. Lots of good reading to be found here.
Making Home: TTFN, and a Summer Show & Tell
Making Home: TTFN, and a Summer Show & Tell
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
two things
Two things this morning. I found this post via the comments section of another blog. It is a wonderful, not-too-technical explanation of how the ADHD brain works. We have given up on the medication route for now, but in reading this post, I see that we may have given up too soon. Our doctor has been slowly, painfully taking us through all the available medications, and we've been so frustrated about not being able to find the right drug, in the right dose, that doesn't lead to the sleep, eating, and mood issues associated with ADHD drugs. Even the non-stimulant drug Strattera has many of the same side effects. I found this post to be a real blessing.
The other thing this morning is how much I love this writing-helps book (pictured). One of Daniel's workbox tasks for today is to write a thank you letter to his PA aunt, for the nice trip to the Amish farm. The aunt actually lives in Lamar, which is a very small town just outside of State College--where one of my readers lives! Hello CT!
If you plan on purchasing writing curriculum for next year, I highly recommend this Write Source resource.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Joy's Husband
Joy's husband (Memoria Arts blog) has been hospitalized for complications to pneumonia. Sounds serious. He is not stabilizing as expected. They have four young children and the fifth is due soon. I can't imagine the stress they are all experiencing. Please pray.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
They're Expecting!
Do you remember baby Josh, who died last year of leukodystrophy--son of Debbie and Josh Lauer? They're expecting! Praise God!
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Kids and the Sandman
This month I've been chronicling my efforts to infuse more outward joy into my day. This outward joy is not to be confused with my inward joy, which comes from the knowledge and assurance of my salvation in Christ, and from my relationship with Christ. That joy floods me whenever my favorite praise songs come on, and is powerful evidence of my spiritual transformation.
I wrote of my made-up joy songs; I would start singing whenever there was an incident threatening to rob me of joy, such as a major spill or a major behavior issue. Recently, Joy's post about her household triggers made me realize that I need to identify my own "triggers", so that I can pray through them, or avoid them altogether.
My joy-song method became counter-productive around here; they began causing the children to go into hyperactive, loud frenzies, from which they had trouble "coming down". One of the problems with having hyperactive kids is that when things get really happy or loosey goosey, you spend the next hour trying to get the household back down to earth, which usually involves one or more of them receiving consequences for not controlling themselves. While Daniel appears to be the only "officially hyperactive" one, Emily and Anna are close seconds. Any child between two and three will experience their highest lifetime activity level, according to the experts; so the jury is still out on Emily Rose's hyperactivity--time will tell more.
Anna is about the most wiggly baby you'll find; at six months, she is already crawling two steps or paces. And it takes two adults to bath her! You can't eat with her in your lap, due to her wiggling. Getting the food to your mouth while still keeping her in your lap is impossible. It is VERY common for there to be more than one ADD/ADHD child in a family, and also common for one or both parents to be similarly affected. I secretly think it's Don and he secretly thinks it's me. LOL
But that's digressing. As I read more about the struggles of other (homeschooling) women in regards to keeping a tidy house, I am getting to a place of acceptance about untidiness. That's not to say I won't keep working on it though. It is less of a trigger--although sticky, muddy floors will probably always get to me, and I'll probably continue to be on my hands and knees with wet paper towels 5 - 10 times a day.
One huge trigger that has followed me from the day I became a mom, is my preoccupation with my children's sleep patterns. Right now, Emily is still getting out of her crib before bedtime and before her nap, leading to less overall sleep. No, she isn't particularly cranky--something that the experts point out as a sign of too little sleep. And no, she isn't any MORE hyper than before--another sign of too little sleep. Yet she is getting less than the recommended sleep for her age, and less than she appeared to need even a month ago. We've been consistent in how we've dealt with it, but it continues. Could be the light coming into the room earlier than before, but there is little I can do about that. She has vertical blinds, which keep it pretty dark regardless.
Daniel is currently very excited about the fireflies, and rightly so. The trouble we have every year, from mid-June until the end of July, is that they light up around 9 p.m., and Daniel functions best when he is asleep by 8:30 p.m. We compromise and allow him to catch them every few nights, for fifteen minutes, after he has had his bath and his teeth brushed and his story time is done, leaving only prayer time and tuck in--which still puts him asleep at about 9:40 p.m. He's too excited to sleep before that, apparently from watching the flies light up his bedside. And what's the fun of catching them if one can't watch them do their lantern magic? I get all that. This is the stuff of which memories are made; we'd best not interfere too much.
The boys' sleep (and mine, Don's and Anna's) is also affected right now because when Emily gets out of her crib in the morning, she goes into the boys room and gets into bed with Daniel for a nice cuddle, (just precious--I agree) waking both boys, if they weren't already awake. She used to wake up around 8 or 8:30, but now it's between 6:30 and 7:00, meaning she should be asleep by 7:30 to 8:00 p.m. the night before. She's averaging 9:00 p.m., due to her continually getting out of her crib.
Anna's sleep is always affected when she has a cold, as she does now. The last few nights she has been up every hour or so. The mucous is so loose that the bulb suction does her no good; it only sends her into screaming fits.
All this to say that never-ending sleep issues is enough to drive me into a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad mood (or decade). This is likely to continue until Anna is nearly seven, so I definitely need to learn to disengage emotionally from sleep issues. After doing my part, I have to let it go. Instead, I stew, I pray, I research, I plot, I stress. And yet still, sleep issues continue to come up--different season, different issue--but there is always something.
And guess what? Vacation Bible School is coming up. It goes until 8:30 p.m., for five consecutive nights. Just shoot me!
And this post will now have to be labeled--to be continued. Anna Grace has been in here with me during her morning nap, from which she has awakened no less than three times! Time to channel the sandman once again.
Have a good day! I'll be busy over here trying to disengage emotionally from all the failed, my-nose-is-too-snotty baby naps.
And hanging on to this verse:
A cheerful heart is good medicine. Proverbs 17:22
I wrote of my made-up joy songs; I would start singing whenever there was an incident threatening to rob me of joy, such as a major spill or a major behavior issue. Recently, Joy's post about her household triggers made me realize that I need to identify my own "triggers", so that I can pray through them, or avoid them altogether.
My joy-song method became counter-productive around here; they began causing the children to go into hyperactive, loud frenzies, from which they had trouble "coming down". One of the problems with having hyperactive kids is that when things get really happy or loosey goosey, you spend the next hour trying to get the household back down to earth, which usually involves one or more of them receiving consequences for not controlling themselves. While Daniel appears to be the only "officially hyperactive" one, Emily and Anna are close seconds. Any child between two and three will experience their highest lifetime activity level, according to the experts; so the jury is still out on Emily Rose's hyperactivity--time will tell more.
Anna is about the most wiggly baby you'll find; at six months, she is already crawling two steps or paces. And it takes two adults to bath her! You can't eat with her in your lap, due to her wiggling. Getting the food to your mouth while still keeping her in your lap is impossible. It is VERY common for there to be more than one ADD/ADHD child in a family, and also common for one or both parents to be similarly affected. I secretly think it's Don and he secretly thinks it's me. LOL
But that's digressing. As I read more about the struggles of other (homeschooling) women in regards to keeping a tidy house, I am getting to a place of acceptance about untidiness. That's not to say I won't keep working on it though. It is less of a trigger--although sticky, muddy floors will probably always get to me, and I'll probably continue to be on my hands and knees with wet paper towels 5 - 10 times a day.
One huge trigger that has followed me from the day I became a mom, is my preoccupation with my children's sleep patterns. Right now, Emily is still getting out of her crib before bedtime and before her nap, leading to less overall sleep. No, she isn't particularly cranky--something that the experts point out as a sign of too little sleep. And no, she isn't any MORE hyper than before--another sign of too little sleep. Yet she is getting less than the recommended sleep for her age, and less than she appeared to need even a month ago. We've been consistent in how we've dealt with it, but it continues. Could be the light coming into the room earlier than before, but there is little I can do about that. She has vertical blinds, which keep it pretty dark regardless.
Daniel is currently very excited about the fireflies, and rightly so. The trouble we have every year, from mid-June until the end of July, is that they light up around 9 p.m., and Daniel functions best when he is asleep by 8:30 p.m. We compromise and allow him to catch them every few nights, for fifteen minutes, after he has had his bath and his teeth brushed and his story time is done, leaving only prayer time and tuck in--which still puts him asleep at about 9:40 p.m. He's too excited to sleep before that, apparently from watching the flies light up his bedside. And what's the fun of catching them if one can't watch them do their lantern magic? I get all that. This is the stuff of which memories are made; we'd best not interfere too much.
The boys' sleep (and mine, Don's and Anna's) is also affected right now because when Emily gets out of her crib in the morning, she goes into the boys room and gets into bed with Daniel for a nice cuddle, (just precious--I agree) waking both boys, if they weren't already awake. She used to wake up around 8 or 8:30, but now it's between 6:30 and 7:00, meaning she should be asleep by 7:30 to 8:00 p.m. the night before. She's averaging 9:00 p.m., due to her continually getting out of her crib.
Anna's sleep is always affected when she has a cold, as she does now. The last few nights she has been up every hour or so. The mucous is so loose that the bulb suction does her no good; it only sends her into screaming fits.
All this to say that never-ending sleep issues is enough to drive me into a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad mood (or decade). This is likely to continue until Anna is nearly seven, so I definitely need to learn to disengage emotionally from sleep issues. After doing my part, I have to let it go. Instead, I stew, I pray, I research, I plot, I stress. And yet still, sleep issues continue to come up--different season, different issue--but there is always something.
And guess what? Vacation Bible School is coming up. It goes until 8:30 p.m., for five consecutive nights. Just shoot me!
And this post will now have to be labeled--to be continued. Anna Grace has been in here with me during her morning nap, from which she has awakened no less than three times! Time to channel the sandman once again.
Have a good day! I'll be busy over here trying to disengage emotionally from all the failed, my-nose-is-too-snotty baby naps.
And hanging on to this verse:
A cheerful heart is good medicine. Proverbs 17:22
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Planning for the Next Year
A number of homeschooling moms are working on organization for the new school year, and for their homes. Same thing over here. I'm praying about and researching all these same huge issues. I came across a post on the Snail blog about this very thing. Boy, I'm telling ya--you've got to read this woman's account of her struggle to manage the home. Made me want to kiss her, I tell ya. You mean I'm not the only lame woman with a house that is NEVER tidy? That is, unless someone is coming to dinner, and I've ignored the kids and terrorized the family in my mad dash to make something disgusting into something warm and inviting?
She also gives a fantastic review of a very comprehensive planner, which includes monthly menus.
The Snail's Trail: TOS Homeschool Crew Review: 2009 Schoolhouse Planner
Another good homeschooling idea has to do with workboxes, which you can read about here, at the Life of a Dairy Queen blog.
Another post about home management, in relation to the home triggers that threaten to do us in, can be found here, at the Memoria Arts blog.
She also gives a fantastic review of a very comprehensive planner, which includes monthly menus.
The Snail's Trail: TOS Homeschool Crew Review: 2009 Schoolhouse Planner
Another good homeschooling idea has to do with workboxes, which you can read about here, at the Life of a Dairy Queen blog.
Another post about home management, in relation to the home triggers that threaten to do us in, can be found here, at the Memoria Arts blog.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
An Interesting Site
Through some blog-surfing, I found a Christian woman's blog that is totally devoted to helping others develop a loving Christian marriage. It is called Love Lasts a Lifetime. I just wanted to let you know ahead of time that it is on my sidebar and contains information about improving one's overall marriage, including marital intimacy. She apparently does a post every week or so about an intimate position. There are no inappropriate pictures or anything like that (totally Christian content), but if you have teenage children in your house, or very good readers, maybe you don't want them peering over your shoulder while you visit the site.
My libido always takes a serious nose dive when I'm nursing. I do feel awful about it, and very sorry for my husband. This woman is dedicated to helping Christian moms see beyond our own feelings, so that we honor our husbands by being enthusiastic AND available. I hope you don't mind my posting the site here. Maybe your husband will thank me. :) I went through about two weeks of posts. Her husband posts less often, but speaks directly to husbands when he does.
My libido always takes a serious nose dive when I'm nursing. I do feel awful about it, and very sorry for my husband. This woman is dedicated to helping Christian moms see beyond our own feelings, so that we honor our husbands by being enthusiastic AND available. I hope you don't mind my posting the site here. Maybe your husband will thank me. :) I went through about two weeks of posts. Her husband posts less often, but speaks directly to husbands when he does.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Inexplicable
The ache for a child, or the loss of a child, is so deeply painful for us women. I feel so badly for all the women who click on blog after blog--seeing pictures of dearly loved children--only to turn away from their computers, to a house that is either quiet, or contains the noise of just one or two children. Many want only one or two, so for them perhaps there is relief when they read posts about larger-family chaos. But for those whose hearts yearn for the noise and the chaos, the pain is so, so deep, and it can be so constant.
We conceived our first child within three months and then lost him at 21 weeks. It took five months to get pregnant again, which were the longest five months of my life. I don't pretend to know what it is like to ache for a child for years and years, but in those five months, my ache was constant. I learned to surrender, and when I gave up making a project out of getting pregnant, we conceived Daniel.
That five months was the extent of my experience, thus far, in dealing with the womanly ache for a child. It was short, but deeply felt, and still remembered. Last week, my husband was contacted by his urologist's office, and was given a report of "negative", in regards to his post-vasectomy sperm sample. He almost had a smile on his face when he told me. And me? I was absolutely crushed in spirit. I walked away from him, and just wanted to run outside and shout with all my might, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
Right now, I have my Anna to cuddle and kiss and delight in, but when she toddles away from me, I know there will be pain when I click on blogs and read about the new pregnancies of other women. I can't explain it to you. I don't understand why this passage is so hard for me to accept. In many ways I am being a spoiled brat. After all, I have four children to enjoy (and another two to meet in heaven). I have no right to feel this way--but I do. I can't deny it. Do I wish I had a different husband--one who delights in children more? No. I understand too well the folly of "greener grass" thinking, when it comes to marriage.
God could have exhausted my ache for children, thereby putting me in sync with my husband's thinking. But he has not. So down the line, I think I will offer my loving arms to a working mom's baby, if God agrees. My husband will probably be working days at some point in the next five years, so he will not be burdened by the presence of another baby. I babysat for two babies and a toddler when we moved to Ohio, although not all at once. The last child I watched came to us in 2007, when Emily was five months old. His name was Anthony, and he was thirteen months when we met him, and 19 months when his parents moved out of our area and we had to say goodbye. I loved him dearly, and took great pleasure in rocking him to sleep and watching him grow.
As I deal with the inexplicable longing that is to come, I will think of him, and hope for another baby to love. And in the meantime, I will keep reminding myself that I have been abundantly blessed already, and I have no "right" to these feelings. I am ashamed of them, and yet I can't deny them, or understand them.
There is much to wonder about as we move along in our Christian walk. Everyone has a different story with different twists, but there is still the wondering--the longing for something--the waiting for something. I can only conclude that it is part of God's plan, so that we have an urgent need for Him to fill us up again and again. He wants us to find companionship and fulfillment in him, rather than in the things of this world.
And there is that fulfillment--that deeply satisfying companionship. We have only to go after it, everyday, purposefully.
Just an aside: I came across a blogger who has met Michelle Duggar. Here is a post about their meeting.
We conceived our first child within three months and then lost him at 21 weeks. It took five months to get pregnant again, which were the longest five months of my life. I don't pretend to know what it is like to ache for a child for years and years, but in those five months, my ache was constant. I learned to surrender, and when I gave up making a project out of getting pregnant, we conceived Daniel.
That five months was the extent of my experience, thus far, in dealing with the womanly ache for a child. It was short, but deeply felt, and still remembered. Last week, my husband was contacted by his urologist's office, and was given a report of "negative", in regards to his post-vasectomy sperm sample. He almost had a smile on his face when he told me. And me? I was absolutely crushed in spirit. I walked away from him, and just wanted to run outside and shout with all my might, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
Right now, I have my Anna to cuddle and kiss and delight in, but when she toddles away from me, I know there will be pain when I click on blogs and read about the new pregnancies of other women. I can't explain it to you. I don't understand why this passage is so hard for me to accept. In many ways I am being a spoiled brat. After all, I have four children to enjoy (and another two to meet in heaven). I have no right to feel this way--but I do. I can't deny it. Do I wish I had a different husband--one who delights in children more? No. I understand too well the folly of "greener grass" thinking, when it comes to marriage.
God could have exhausted my ache for children, thereby putting me in sync with my husband's thinking. But he has not. So down the line, I think I will offer my loving arms to a working mom's baby, if God agrees. My husband will probably be working days at some point in the next five years, so he will not be burdened by the presence of another baby. I babysat for two babies and a toddler when we moved to Ohio, although not all at once. The last child I watched came to us in 2007, when Emily was five months old. His name was Anthony, and he was thirteen months when we met him, and 19 months when his parents moved out of our area and we had to say goodbye. I loved him dearly, and took great pleasure in rocking him to sleep and watching him grow.
As I deal with the inexplicable longing that is to come, I will think of him, and hope for another baby to love. And in the meantime, I will keep reminding myself that I have been abundantly blessed already, and I have no "right" to these feelings. I am ashamed of them, and yet I can't deny them, or understand them.
There is much to wonder about as we move along in our Christian walk. Everyone has a different story with different twists, but there is still the wondering--the longing for something--the waiting for something. I can only conclude that it is part of God's plan, so that we have an urgent need for Him to fill us up again and again. He wants us to find companionship and fulfillment in him, rather than in the things of this world.
And there is that fulfillment--that deeply satisfying companionship. We have only to go after it, everyday, purposefully.
Just an aside: I came across a blogger who has met Michelle Duggar. Here is a post about their meeting.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Family Bible Time - borrowed post
This post about family Bible time is from the "Large Family Mothering" blog, featured on the sidebar. It is very encouraging, and hopefully not too preachy for your taste.
Hope you all had a blessed Sunday with your families!
Sunday, June 07, 2009
Family Bible time
A thoughtful reader wanted to know about our "Bible time", so I thought it would be a good opportunity to share.
To me, there is nothing more worthwhile than spending one's time in the Word of God. The Scripture says that men's thoughts are evil continually! How do I expect I can think God's thoughts after Him if I do not have any to draw on?
I do believe that the Holy Spirit can impart revelation to our hearts and minds, but we all know there are all sorts of other things roaming through our brains on a daily basis. How do we discern what is and isn't Spirit-breathed unless we have a a standard?
Also, I want to know more about my Father; I want to know what He thinks about things, what is important to Him, what is displeasing, how He operates. I find this out more and more. Of course, I will never fully understand or comprehend on this earth, but the more I read, the more opens up to me.
And it is with this sort of enthusiasm that my husband and I teach and admonish our children. We don't read silly Bible story books, but we read the actual Word, unabridged, out loud with study helps nearby--such as commentaries, concordances, Greek and Hebrew lexicon, etc.
Often I hear parents confess they do not feel worthy or knowledgeable enough to teach their children--this is so far from the truth. Even if a parent doesn't know a lot about the Word themselves, they can learn along with their children, just as in all areas of interest. It is the enthusiasm of the heart that counts.
One of the most important things to keep in mind is that man is not the measure of all things, God is. We cannot approach the Bible with a critical heart--we do not correct the Bible, it must correct us. God's thoughts are so much higher than our thoughts! If we find passages that make us feel uneasy, we must seek first to find out all we can about that passage, then realize the Word is always right--no matter if it does not sinq with our own thinking.
With this in mind, we try and spend two times in the Bible daily--once in the morning, once in the evening. I am in charge in the morning, when we are currently reading a chapter of Proverbs and discussing and expounding. In the evening hour before bedtime my husband leads us in reading a chapter through the Bible (we are currently in 1st Chronicles), expounding and discussing, and then reading a portion of a Christian classic book. We have read through books such as Hearing God by Peter Lord, The Knowledge of the Holy and The Pursuit of God by A.W. Tozer, The Practice of the Presence of God by Brother Lawrence, and currently Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan. We also spend periods in quiet and shared prayer, and often get out the hymnals and sing hymns a capella.
We attempt to energize and include the children through the asking of questions, having them repeat phrases out loud, doing role playing, etc. It is amazing how much even a 5 yo can take in--our little Faith often astounds us as to how much she retains, and her prayers are so powerful!
Besides our corporate times in the Word, we encourage private reading and meditation--we just can't get enough! Even if our oldest son at home misses a Bible time, he keep up by reading at work.
I am thoroughly convinced that studying God's Word is the most important part of homeschooling. When our minds are renewed, we can organize all of the other thoughts and plans in our minds with optimum efficiency. We can be more creative, more logical, less apt to irrational fears so our minds are more free. This is so important when we try and delve into any other area of academics or interest.
As a youth I spent hours upon hours studying and copying scripture in every spare moment. I know it has helped me as I have faced many of the difficulties of life and had to rely on logical creativity to deal with crises handily. I believe this one factor is the greatest contributor to any successes as the mother of many children.
The other day I was standing in line at the grocery store with my dear son. We were looking at the tabloids and other magazines. It was so wonderful to realize we couldn't recognize the names or faces of those in the news, since we don't have time for that sort of nonsense, but we do have time for the most important things!
Our children are inundated on every side with every sort of cultural degradation. From examining our own family lines, we can see clearly how our Godly ancestors failed to pass on their faith to the next generation, until the foundations were totally destroyed, leaving us with a legacy of brokenness and helplessness. We cannot hope to influence and energize the next generation without fervent, diligent work. A few hours on Sunday will not match the expansive influence of our culture, even if we do homeschool.
When Jesus comes back I will not care if I dress or parent like the "stars". I will not care who will become the next American Idol, but I will be happy to have a lamp full of the oil of devotion and holiness, ready to step into eternity with the Bridegroom.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Joy, Tomatos, Trellises
I talk to God a whole lot during the day. I have to nowadays. It's a blessing that things are hard right now. It really is. I'm not just regurgitating the "consider it all joy when you face trials of many kinds" verse when I say that. We learn and make leaps when things are hard. Leaps are good. Ease and stagnation are not.
I sit here--sometimes at night, sometimes during naps or when Daddy has the kids outside--and I regurgitate what the Lord brings to my mind during the day. It comes out piecemeal here, but that's okay. When the children are old enough to be interested in reading about their early days (when they are parents themselves probably), maybe the piecemeal fashion will ILLUSTRATE the story of a flawed mother who loved Jesus and her family, rather than just TELL it. Maybe they'll see their own human condition, and their own desperate need for Jesus, through my flaws.
A short time ago, Katie, from the 9ndHouse blog, told me to "Hang in there! It's all good if it's coated in joy". I loved that comment, and I needed it. But at that time, it didn't penetrate my heart deeply enough. I didn't start "coating everything in joy" after that.
That comment has come back to mind to reinforce what God is teaching me this week. He wants me to have the tools of organization and planning, but not as an end in themselves. Joy, over at the Memoria Arts blog, described it in today's post as the "trellis and the tomato". The tomato is our goal and the organization and planning are just the trellis--a tool to help us get there. Joy has been doing a series on the simple, one-piece life she arrived at, via her own personal journey. She is many years my junior, and it's humbling to learn from someone so young, yet so wise. As I wrote before, she has had a hard year. Now God has her teaching others. Her words are carefully chosen, carefully laid out, and I can see God right through them. What a blessing!
Easier times are not on the horizon right now. The list of things that are broken around here keeps growing; today, the lawnmower stopped working. It's springtime and that's just not good, anyway you slice it. It was purchased four years ago, used. The unemployment check and part-time work just aren't going to pay for a new one. The second car is grounded due to an exhaust problem, which we can't afford to fix properly. We paid for a jury-rig fix a year ago, and were told then that it probably wouldn't last. The computer still has an ugly, green-colored screen. The kiddy pool now has a hole in it, necessitating the purchasing of another one, to help the kiddos deal with the heat and humidity this summer. That isn't all, but I'll stop there.
How bad do things have to get before I finally grasp the ONE THING God wants from me--from us? As I listened to God this week, and remembered Katie's comment, and read Joy's one-piece posts, I grasped it! It's joy! That's the one thing. Joy! It has finally gone from my head, down into my heart. "Coat everything in joy" Katie told me.
My obsession with housekeeping skills is me mistaking the trellis for the tomato. My goal is joy in all things, and while organization and planning might help me get there, they aren't the end. God doesn't much care how neat my house is! He was on Mary's side, remember? Not on Martha's side. My hands are tied with vomit, pee, mud, crumbs, sticky floors, silent e's and other first-grade skills, dirty diapers, and stray toys. Room rescues and hot-spot checks? Yeah, they are a valuable tool to have, for those five minutes of peace I sometimes get between messes.
My children will not remember what my house looked like on this 1st day of June, 2009. But they will remember how often I smiled, laughed, hugged and twirled around with them. And how often I turned up the radio and raised my hands to praise my Savior. They will remember joy! Thank you, Katie! I can love Jesus with all my heart, soul, and mind, but without a coating of joy, my feelings for my Savior won't translate to my children, to my family, to the world.
I have been measuring myself by a standard set by others, rather than by God himself. For some reason, I felt I would never be any good at what I do, unless I could manage a clean house in the midst of caring for a baby, a toddler, a preschooler, and a first grader. Cleanliness and orderliness seemed like Godliness to me.
I'll still at least STRIVE for a neat house, but hereafter I'll remember that the tomato is what I'm after, not the trellis.
I sit here--sometimes at night, sometimes during naps or when Daddy has the kids outside--and I regurgitate what the Lord brings to my mind during the day. It comes out piecemeal here, but that's okay. When the children are old enough to be interested in reading about their early days (when they are parents themselves probably), maybe the piecemeal fashion will ILLUSTRATE the story of a flawed mother who loved Jesus and her family, rather than just TELL it. Maybe they'll see their own human condition, and their own desperate need for Jesus, through my flaws.
A short time ago, Katie, from the 9ndHouse blog, told me to "Hang in there! It's all good if it's coated in joy". I loved that comment, and I needed it. But at that time, it didn't penetrate my heart deeply enough. I didn't start "coating everything in joy" after that.
That comment has come back to mind to reinforce what God is teaching me this week. He wants me to have the tools of organization and planning, but not as an end in themselves. Joy, over at the Memoria Arts blog, described it in today's post as the "trellis and the tomato". The tomato is our goal and the organization and planning are just the trellis--a tool to help us get there. Joy has been doing a series on the simple, one-piece life she arrived at, via her own personal journey. She is many years my junior, and it's humbling to learn from someone so young, yet so wise. As I wrote before, she has had a hard year. Now God has her teaching others. Her words are carefully chosen, carefully laid out, and I can see God right through them. What a blessing!
Easier times are not on the horizon right now. The list of things that are broken around here keeps growing; today, the lawnmower stopped working. It's springtime and that's just not good, anyway you slice it. It was purchased four years ago, used. The unemployment check and part-time work just aren't going to pay for a new one. The second car is grounded due to an exhaust problem, which we can't afford to fix properly. We paid for a jury-rig fix a year ago, and were told then that it probably wouldn't last. The computer still has an ugly, green-colored screen. The kiddy pool now has a hole in it, necessitating the purchasing of another one, to help the kiddos deal with the heat and humidity this summer. That isn't all, but I'll stop there.
How bad do things have to get before I finally grasp the ONE THING God wants from me--from us? As I listened to God this week, and remembered Katie's comment, and read Joy's one-piece posts, I grasped it! It's joy! That's the one thing. Joy! It has finally gone from my head, down into my heart. "Coat everything in joy" Katie told me.
My obsession with housekeeping skills is me mistaking the trellis for the tomato. My goal is joy in all things, and while organization and planning might help me get there, they aren't the end. God doesn't much care how neat my house is! He was on Mary's side, remember? Not on Martha's side. My hands are tied with vomit, pee, mud, crumbs, sticky floors, silent e's and other first-grade skills, dirty diapers, and stray toys. Room rescues and hot-spot checks? Yeah, they are a valuable tool to have, for those five minutes of peace I sometimes get between messes.
My children will not remember what my house looked like on this 1st day of June, 2009. But they will remember how often I smiled, laughed, hugged and twirled around with them. And how often I turned up the radio and raised my hands to praise my Savior. They will remember joy! Thank you, Katie! I can love Jesus with all my heart, soul, and mind, but without a coating of joy, my feelings for my Savior won't translate to my children, to my family, to the world.
I have been measuring myself by a standard set by others, rather than by God himself. For some reason, I felt I would never be any good at what I do, unless I could manage a clean house in the midst of caring for a baby, a toddler, a preschooler, and a first grader. Cleanliness and orderliness seemed like Godliness to me.
I'll still at least STRIVE for a neat house, but hereafter I'll remember that the tomato is what I'm after, not the trellis.
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