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| Blame Martha Stewart. That's all I can say. |
This is Real Life
Friday, December 14, 2012
What I Want For Christmas
If anyone wants to purchase this pan for me, I won't be offended.
Sunday, December 02, 2012
This Week In Poetry
Joel is reading The Courtship of Miles Standish for reading lessons in school right now. It is just great. Had to share part of it.
Excerpt from The Courtship of Miles Standish by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
" 'T is not good for a man to be alone, say the Scriptures.
This I have said before, and again and again I repeat it;
Every hour in the day, I think it, and feel it, and say it.
Since Rose Standish died, my life has been weary and dreary;
Sick at heart have I been, beyond the healing of friendship;
Oft in my lonely hours have I thought of the maiden Priscilla.
She is alone in the world; her father and mother and brother
Died in the winter together; I saw her going and coming,
Now to the grave of the dead, and now to the bed of the dying,
Patient, courageous, and strong, and said to myself, that if ever
There were angels on earth, as there are angels in heaven,
Two have I seen and known; and the angel whose name is Priscilla
Holds in my desolate life the place which the other abandoned.
Long have I cherished the thought, but never have dared to reveal it,
Being a coward in this though valiant enough for the most part.
Go to the damsel Priscilla, the loveliest maiden of Plymouth,
Say that a blunt old Captain, a man not of words but of actions,
Offers his hand and his heart, the hand and heart of a soldier.
Not in these words, you know, but this in short is my meaning;
I am a maker of war, and not a maker of phrases.
You, who are bred as a scholar, can say it in elegant language,
Such as you read in your books of the pleadings and wooings of lovers,
Such as you think best adapted to win the heart of a maiden."
When he had spoken, John Alden, the fair-haired, taciturn stripling,
All aghast at his words, surprised, embarrassed, bewildered,
Trying to mask his dismay by treating the subject with lightness,
Trying to smile, and yet feeling his heart stand still in his bosom,
Just as a timepiece stops in a house that is stricken by lightning,
Thus made answer and spake, or rather stammered than answered:
"Such a message as that, I am sure I should mangle and mar it;
If you would have it well done, -- I am only repeating your maxim, --
You must do it yourself, you must not leave it to others!"
But with the air of a man whom nothing can turn from his purpose,
Gravely shaking his head, made answer the Captain of Plymouth:
"Truly the maxim is good, and I do not mean to gainsay it;
But we must use it discreetly, and not waste powder for nothing.
Now, as I said before, I was never a maker of phrases.
I can march up to a fortress and summon the place to surrender,
But march up to a woman with such a proposal, I dare not.
I'm not afraid of bullets, nor shot from the mouth of a cannon,
But of a thundering 'No!' point-blank from the mouth of a woman,
That I confess I'm afraid of, nor am I ashamed to confess it!"
Also, this one makes me think of Grammy.
A Widow's Weeds by Walter de la Mare
A poor old Widow in her weeds
Sowed her garden with wild-flower seeds;
Not too shallow, and not too deep,
And down came April -- drip -- drip -- drip.
Up shone May, like gold, and soon
Green as an arbour grew leafy June.
And now all summer she sits and sews
Where willow herb, comfrey, bugloss blows,
Teasle and pansy, meadowsweet,
Campion, toadflax, and rough hawksbit;
Brown bee orchis, and Peals of Bells;
Clover, burnet, and thyme she smells;
Like Oberon's meadows her garden is
Drowsy from dawn to dusk with bees.
Weeps she never, but sometimes sighs,
And peeps at her garden with bright brown eyes;
And all she has is all she needs--
A poor Old Widow in her weeds.
Excerpt from The Courtship of Miles Standish by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
" 'T is not good for a man to be alone, say the Scriptures.
This I have said before, and again and again I repeat it;
Every hour in the day, I think it, and feel it, and say it.
Since Rose Standish died, my life has been weary and dreary;
Sick at heart have I been, beyond the healing of friendship;
Oft in my lonely hours have I thought of the maiden Priscilla.
She is alone in the world; her father and mother and brother
Died in the winter together; I saw her going and coming,
Now to the grave of the dead, and now to the bed of the dying,
Patient, courageous, and strong, and said to myself, that if ever
There were angels on earth, as there are angels in heaven,
Two have I seen and known; and the angel whose name is Priscilla
Holds in my desolate life the place which the other abandoned.
Long have I cherished the thought, but never have dared to reveal it,
Being a coward in this though valiant enough for the most part.
Go to the damsel Priscilla, the loveliest maiden of Plymouth,
Say that a blunt old Captain, a man not of words but of actions,
Offers his hand and his heart, the hand and heart of a soldier.
Not in these words, you know, but this in short is my meaning;
I am a maker of war, and not a maker of phrases.
You, who are bred as a scholar, can say it in elegant language,
Such as you read in your books of the pleadings and wooings of lovers,
Such as you think best adapted to win the heart of a maiden."
When he had spoken, John Alden, the fair-haired, taciturn stripling,
All aghast at his words, surprised, embarrassed, bewildered,
Trying to mask his dismay by treating the subject with lightness,
Trying to smile, and yet feeling his heart stand still in his bosom,
Just as a timepiece stops in a house that is stricken by lightning,
Thus made answer and spake, or rather stammered than answered:
"Such a message as that, I am sure I should mangle and mar it;
If you would have it well done, -- I am only repeating your maxim, --
You must do it yourself, you must not leave it to others!"
But with the air of a man whom nothing can turn from his purpose,
Gravely shaking his head, made answer the Captain of Plymouth:
"Truly the maxim is good, and I do not mean to gainsay it;
But we must use it discreetly, and not waste powder for nothing.
Now, as I said before, I was never a maker of phrases.
I can march up to a fortress and summon the place to surrender,
But march up to a woman with such a proposal, I dare not.
I'm not afraid of bullets, nor shot from the mouth of a cannon,
But of a thundering 'No!' point-blank from the mouth of a woman,
That I confess I'm afraid of, nor am I ashamed to confess it!"
Also, this one makes me think of Grammy.
A Widow's Weeds by Walter de la Mare
A poor old Widow in her weeds
Sowed her garden with wild-flower seeds;
Not too shallow, and not too deep,
And down came April -- drip -- drip -- drip.
Up shone May, like gold, and soon
Green as an arbour grew leafy June.
And now all summer she sits and sews
Where willow herb, comfrey, bugloss blows,
Teasle and pansy, meadowsweet,
Campion, toadflax, and rough hawksbit;
Brown bee orchis, and Peals of Bells;
Clover, burnet, and thyme she smells;
Like Oberon's meadows her garden is
Drowsy from dawn to dusk with bees.
Weeps she never, but sometimes sighs,
And peeps at her garden with bright brown eyes;
And all she has is all she needs--
A poor Old Widow in her weeds.
Friday, November 30, 2012
November
It has been requested that I post on how school is going thus fall. That post is coming soon. We did not do school in November. I didn't plan it that way, but 2-year-olds must learn to go potty, and mothers of 2-year-olds have to remember to take them.
But of course, I found a way to do more than just potty training. Because I feel guilty if I am doing only one thing.
I have been wanting to make one of these banners for years, and must credit my sister, Jessica, for the inspiration. And Pottery Barn Kids. Also, this wouldn't have gotten finished if my boys had not helped - a lot. There are a few more things to add, which we will do when we pull it out next fall.
But of course, I found a way to do more than just potty training. Because I feel guilty if I am doing only one thing.
I have been wanting to make one of these banners for years, and must credit my sister, Jessica, for the inspiration. And Pottery Barn Kids. Also, this wouldn't have gotten finished if my boys had not helped - a lot. There are a few more things to add, which we will do when we pull it out next fall.
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Home Education, Part 5, Or, Ideas
Post 2 of ?
Part V
Lessons As Instruments Of Education
"Children learn, to get Ideas."
As I said in my previous post, it is hard for me to wrap my head around this. An idea, in my world, works this way:
"Any ideas on what would be good for supper???"
or
"Any idea where Josie put my brush???"
or
"Do you have any idea when we can go ____???"
So there has to be a change in my mindset when trying to define what exactly an idea really is.
"The child must learn, in the second place, in order that ideas may be freely sown in the fruitful soil of his mind. 'Idea, the image or picture formed by the mind of anything external, whether sensible or spiritual.'––so, the dictionary; therefore, if the business of teaching be to furnish the child with ideas, any teaching which does not leave him possessed of a new mental image has, by so far, missed its mark. Now, just think of the listless way in which the children too often drag through reading and tables, geography and sums, and you will see that it is a rare thing for any part of any lesson to flash upon them with the vividness which leaves a mental picture behind. It is not too much to say that a morning in which a child receives no new idea is a morning wasted, however closely the little student has been kept at his books."
Well, now, that's a fresh outlook on things, isn't it?
Also,
"For the dictionary appears to me to fall short of the truth in its definition of the term 'idea.' An idea is more than an image or picture; it is, so to speak, a spiritual germ endowed with vital force––with power, that is, to grow, and to produce after its kind."
"Value of Dominant Ideas.––But how does this theory of the vital and fruitful character of ideas bear upon the education of the child? In this way: give your a child a single valuable idea, and you have done more for his education than if you had laid upon his mind the burden of bushels of information; for the child who grows up with a few dominant ideas has his self-education provided for, his career marked out."
"Lessons must furnish Ideas.––In order for the reception of an idea, the mind must be in an attitude of eager attention, and how to secure that state we have considered elsewhere. One thing more: a single idea may be a possession so precious in itself, so fruitful, that the parent cannot fitly allow the child's selection of ideas to be a matter of chance; his lessons should furnish him with such ideas as shall make for his further education."
And that's what I'm still "chewing" on.
Part V
Lessons As Instruments Of Education
"Children learn, to get Ideas."
As I said in my previous post, it is hard for me to wrap my head around this. An idea, in my world, works this way:
"Any ideas on what would be good for supper???"
or
"Any idea where Josie put my brush???"
or
"Do you have any idea when we can go ____???"
So there has to be a change in my mindset when trying to define what exactly an idea really is.
"The child must learn, in the second place, in order that ideas may be freely sown in the fruitful soil of his mind. 'Idea, the image or picture formed by the mind of anything external, whether sensible or spiritual.'––so, the dictionary; therefore, if the business of teaching be to furnish the child with ideas, any teaching which does not leave him possessed of a new mental image has, by so far, missed its mark. Now, just think of the listless way in which the children too often drag through reading and tables, geography and sums, and you will see that it is a rare thing for any part of any lesson to flash upon them with the vividness which leaves a mental picture behind. It is not too much to say that a morning in which a child receives no new idea is a morning wasted, however closely the little student has been kept at his books."
Well, now, that's a fresh outlook on things, isn't it?
Also,
"For the dictionary appears to me to fall short of the truth in its definition of the term 'idea.' An idea is more than an image or picture; it is, so to speak, a spiritual germ endowed with vital force––with power, that is, to grow, and to produce after its kind."
"Value of Dominant Ideas.––But how does this theory of the vital and fruitful character of ideas bear upon the education of the child? In this way: give your a child a single valuable idea, and you have done more for his education than if you had laid upon his mind the burden of bushels of information; for the child who grows up with a few dominant ideas has his self-education provided for, his career marked out."
"Lessons must furnish Ideas.––In order for the reception of an idea, the mind must be in an attitude of eager attention, and how to secure that state we have considered elsewhere. One thing more: a single idea may be a possession so precious in itself, so fruitful, that the parent cannot fitly allow the child's selection of ideas to be a matter of chance; his lessons should furnish him with such ideas as shall make for his further education."
And that's what I'm still "chewing" on.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Home Education, Part 5
Post 1 of ?
This chapter of Charlotte Mason's Home Education is quite long, so it will take a number of posts to get through it all. I will try to get it all done this week so I can finish this book before the end of the year. There were parts of the chapter that I didn't highlight too much, but much of it was applicable to what I was going through with some of my boys; it was fantastic.
Part V
Lessons As Instruments of Education
I love the title of this chapter. Lessons do not equal education. They are/can be merely an instrument.
"It seems to me that we live in an age of pedagogy; that we of the teaching profession are inclined to take too much upon ourselves, and that parents are ready to yield the responsibility of direction, as well as of actual instruction, more than is wholesome for the children."
Okay. This is what drives me crazy about today's parents. They automatically assume that they cannot teach their children - and by this I do not mean "homeschool" them. I mean that they are afraid to teach their kids anything. Somehow they think it is okay to progenerate, but actually raising their child, another human being, another soul, that has to be left to "professionals". Whatever that means. Actually, it's a cop out.
"Parents must reflect on the Subject-matter of Instruction.––I am about to invite your attention to a subject that parents are accustomed to leave very much in the hands of the schoolmaster or governess when they do not instruct their children themselves––I mean the choice of subjects of instruction, and the ways of handling those subjects."
She calls parents to remember the importance of their own involvement in their children's education. Nothing is new under the sun, as we see she saw the same flaws in her society that we see in ours with parents just handing their kids over to the system and expecting education to "happen".
"Even when children go to schools taught by qualified persons, some insight on the part of fathers and mothers is useful as hindering the teacher from dropping into professional grooves, valuing proficiency in this or that subject for its own sake, and not as it affects the children."
"Home the best Growing-ground for Young Children.––All the same, whatever be the advantages of Kindergarten or other schools for little children, the home schoolroom ought to be the best growing-ground for them. And doubtless it would be so, were the mother at liberty to devote herself to the instruction of her children;"
"Three Questions for the Mother.––But if the mother is to inoculate the governess with her views as to the teaching of writing, French, geography, she must, herself, have definite views. She must ask herself seriously, Why must the children learn at all? What should they learn? And, How should they learn it? If she take the trouble to find a definite and thoughtful answer to each of these three queries, she will be in a position to direct her children's studies; and will, at the same time, be surprised to find that three-fourths of the time and labour ordinarily spent by the child at his lessons is lost time and wasted energy."
These are questions that we should ask ourselves, regularly. It is all too easy to fall into our little ruts and forget *why* we are doing what we are doing. Your why determines your actions. If you do not have a philosophy of education, how do you know that how you are educating works? Or how do you know that the way your child is being taught in school is really educating him?
Charlotte draws an analogy between food causing the child to grow physically and ideas being the food the mind grows upon. This is a concept that was introduced to me a number of years ago, and I am still trying to wrap my mind around what an idea is. I feel dumb admitting that, but there you go. More on this in my next post.
This chapter of Charlotte Mason's Home Education is quite long, so it will take a number of posts to get through it all. I will try to get it all done this week so I can finish this book before the end of the year. There were parts of the chapter that I didn't highlight too much, but much of it was applicable to what I was going through with some of my boys; it was fantastic.
Part V
Lessons As Instruments of Education
I love the title of this chapter. Lessons do not equal education. They are/can be merely an instrument.
"It seems to me that we live in an age of pedagogy; that we of the teaching profession are inclined to take too much upon ourselves, and that parents are ready to yield the responsibility of direction, as well as of actual instruction, more than is wholesome for the children."
Okay. This is what drives me crazy about today's parents. They automatically assume that they cannot teach their children - and by this I do not mean "homeschool" them. I mean that they are afraid to teach their kids anything. Somehow they think it is okay to progenerate, but actually raising their child, another human being, another soul, that has to be left to "professionals". Whatever that means. Actually, it's a cop out.
"Parents must reflect on the Subject-matter of Instruction.––I am about to invite your attention to a subject that parents are accustomed to leave very much in the hands of the schoolmaster or governess when they do not instruct their children themselves––I mean the choice of subjects of instruction, and the ways of handling those subjects."
She calls parents to remember the importance of their own involvement in their children's education. Nothing is new under the sun, as we see she saw the same flaws in her society that we see in ours with parents just handing their kids over to the system and expecting education to "happen".
"Even when children go to schools taught by qualified persons, some insight on the part of fathers and mothers is useful as hindering the teacher from dropping into professional grooves, valuing proficiency in this or that subject for its own sake, and not as it affects the children."
"Home the best Growing-ground for Young Children.––All the same, whatever be the advantages of Kindergarten or other schools for little children, the home schoolroom ought to be the best growing-ground for them. And doubtless it would be so, were the mother at liberty to devote herself to the instruction of her children;"
"Three Questions for the Mother.––But if the mother is to inoculate the governess with her views as to the teaching of writing, French, geography, she must, herself, have definite views. She must ask herself seriously, Why must the children learn at all? What should they learn? And, How should they learn it? If she take the trouble to find a definite and thoughtful answer to each of these three queries, she will be in a position to direct her children's studies; and will, at the same time, be surprised to find that three-fourths of the time and labour ordinarily spent by the child at his lessons is lost time and wasted energy."
These are questions that we should ask ourselves, regularly. It is all too easy to fall into our little ruts and forget *why* we are doing what we are doing. Your why determines your actions. If you do not have a philosophy of education, how do you know that how you are educating works? Or how do you know that the way your child is being taught in school is really educating him?
Charlotte draws an analogy between food causing the child to grow physically and ideas being the food the mind grows upon. This is a concept that was introduced to me a number of years ago, and I am still trying to wrap my mind around what an idea is. I feel dumb admitting that, but there you go. More on this in my next post.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Progress
After living in this house for 9 months, I finally hung some things on the wall!!!! (Cue: thunderous applause). These are the kid's and Jason's watercolours from Aunt Kelli. Soon I hope to get a matching frame for the top one. 
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Where The Heart Is
I have been dreadfully homesick for the Bruces. Really and truly there is an ache in my heart. I have been reading the archives at The Beehive to somehow get a fix. It helps and makes it worse at the same time. If you're out there reading this, Queen S., Great Scot, Fa, Beatrice, and Spuddy Buddy, know that we're loving you and missing you.
Friday, November 09, 2012
A Gift
James was busy making me something all morning. I couldn't see it, it was supposed to be a surprise. Then he told me, "I know that grown ups can't have Thanksgiving presents, so I'm going to give you yours early." I received a Jolly Rancher wrapped up in a bit of fabric inside a paper treasure box, and *this* "doll set". 
Wednesday, November 07, 2012
Peace
He fell asleep reading on the couch the other night. It was beautiful. He's going to be very sad tomorrow; the election has been a big deal to him.
Saturday, November 03, 2012
Roaches
There are three awful ways for your children to wake you up in the morning. Actually, there are more than that, but these are among the worst.
1. By throwing up (this is made worse or easier depending on where the vomiting occurs)
2. By having a leaky dirty diaper in bed, or figuring out how to get said dirty diaper off themselves while in their bed.
3. By yelling, "THERE'S A ROACH" at the top of their lungs, thereby waking the whole household, and bringing an end to your precious slumber by acknowledging the presence of yet *another* disgusting creature tresspassing in your very home.
I have never before in my life wanted super powers, but the number of roaches I have killed since moving to this house has led me to fantasize about having lasers that shoot out of my eyes to zap roaches. Now that would be a handy skill to have.
Also since moving, I culled through my cookbooks. While contemplating the fate of one I received as a wedding gift and have literally never used, a recipe caught my eye. Yes, there amid the spaghetti sauce recipe and the tartar sauce recipe, the fig pickles recipe and the playdough recipe, I saw "Roach Bait". A roach bait recipe? That's worth saving a cookbook for. So I tried it. And it works. Since it has taken effect (back in August), I have found only one roach in the house, three in the garage, and one on the outside of our house. I found my third garage roach this evening which has led me to whip up a very special batch of this for the garage's very own self.
Roach Bait
1/2 cup flour
1/2 cup cornmeal
1/4 cup powdered sugar
1 cup Borax
This is a powder, so I save our peanut butter jar lids and scoop a bit in. To keep it out of the kid's areas of interest, I hide it under furniture, under sinks, behind the toilet, anywhere I have caught roaches trespassing. And now I think I know who Piglet's grandfather really was....
1. By throwing up (this is made worse or easier depending on where the vomiting occurs)
2. By having a leaky dirty diaper in bed, or figuring out how to get said dirty diaper off themselves while in their bed.
3. By yelling, "THERE'S A ROACH" at the top of their lungs, thereby waking the whole household, and bringing an end to your precious slumber by acknowledging the presence of yet *another* disgusting creature tresspassing in your very home.
I have never before in my life wanted super powers, but the number of roaches I have killed since moving to this house has led me to fantasize about having lasers that shoot out of my eyes to zap roaches. Now that would be a handy skill to have.
Also since moving, I culled through my cookbooks. While contemplating the fate of one I received as a wedding gift and have literally never used, a recipe caught my eye. Yes, there amid the spaghetti sauce recipe and the tartar sauce recipe, the fig pickles recipe and the playdough recipe, I saw "Roach Bait". A roach bait recipe? That's worth saving a cookbook for. So I tried it. And it works. Since it has taken effect (back in August), I have found only one roach in the house, three in the garage, and one on the outside of our house. I found my third garage roach this evening which has led me to whip up a very special batch of this for the garage's very own self.
Roach Bait
1/2 cup flour
1/2 cup cornmeal
1/4 cup powdered sugar
1 cup Borax
This is a powder, so I save our peanut butter jar lids and scoop a bit in. To keep it out of the kid's areas of interest, I hide it under furniture, under sinks, behind the toilet, anywhere I have caught roaches trespassing. And now I think I know who Piglet's grandfather really was....
Birthday No. 5
Jack had a great party with his cousin, Wyatt. The weather was perfect, and even though I felt that I could have done a better job of preparing, there was little prep when the time of the party came. This was in part due to my sister's hospitality. I didn't have to make my house ready, but she did. She also had food prepared, which was huge.
I tried very hard to figure out what Jack really wanted for his birthday, and we ended up with a Robin Hood theme and lemon cupcakes. Also apple cider to drink and styrofoam swords for favors.
I tried very hard to figure out what Jack really wanted for his birthday, and we ended up with a Robin Hood theme and lemon cupcakes. Also apple cider to drink and styrofoam swords for favors.
Friday, November 02, 2012
In Which I Ramble
Yea, November is here! Everyone is posting on Facebook something every day that they're thankful for. I haven't, mostly because, well, it has something to do with what G. K. Chesterton said about the humble being secure; and I'm not. But as the world continues to spin topsy-turvy, I am continually refocusing on the things that I feel like I have control. I actually don't have ultimate control, but I have strong influence. And by the grace of God, it comes out lovely at times.
Going through the handshake at church, and my boys want kisses on their lips from me.
Putting Josie to bed, and she says, "sing Jesus Loves Me".
I am back on a Bible reading plan.
Joel has been reading a lot lately on his own, and I'm letting him stay up later to read. He's read 2 Narnia books in about a week.
We have been playing cards. Like Old Maid and Solitaire.
My retinas look "perfect" according to my eye doctor, and that is a balm to my soul.
There are two major things for us to be thankful for this year. One is that we are all together in our own home in the same city, and we see Jason every day. The other is that we live in the greatest country on earth, and while there are countless problems, there always will be problems, and there will always be a fight to fight. I'm thankful we get to fight it here.
I have thought a lot lately about the little things we take for granted that make a huge impact on our lives. Such as being able to travel long distances with cars, planes, etc. Even going 10 miles was a really big deal in days gone by. I'm thankful that when I say goodbye to loved ones, barring a tragedy, I will see them again in the near future. As opposed to probably never seeing them again. Which people did regularly in the recent past in this country.
I'm thankful to the Lord that I did not have to wander in the wilderness for 40 years. That I wasn't Hagar, haven't had to run away and give my child up for dead. I'm thankful the Lord cared about Hagar and her suffering. I'm thankful for what rainbows mean. I'm thankful the Lord turns our suffering into beauty.
"While the earth remaineth, seed-time and harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not cease." Genesis 8:22
Going through the handshake at church, and my boys want kisses on their lips from me.
Putting Josie to bed, and she says, "sing Jesus Loves Me".
I am back on a Bible reading plan.
Joel has been reading a lot lately on his own, and I'm letting him stay up later to read. He's read 2 Narnia books in about a week.
We have been playing cards. Like Old Maid and Solitaire.
My retinas look "perfect" according to my eye doctor, and that is a balm to my soul.
There are two major things for us to be thankful for this year. One is that we are all together in our own home in the same city, and we see Jason every day. The other is that we live in the greatest country on earth, and while there are countless problems, there always will be problems, and there will always be a fight to fight. I'm thankful we get to fight it here.
I have thought a lot lately about the little things we take for granted that make a huge impact on our lives. Such as being able to travel long distances with cars, planes, etc. Even going 10 miles was a really big deal in days gone by. I'm thankful that when I say goodbye to loved ones, barring a tragedy, I will see them again in the near future. As opposed to probably never seeing them again. Which people did regularly in the recent past in this country.
I'm thankful to the Lord that I did not have to wander in the wilderness for 40 years. That I wasn't Hagar, haven't had to run away and give my child up for dead. I'm thankful the Lord cared about Hagar and her suffering. I'm thankful for what rainbows mean. I'm thankful the Lord turns our suffering into beauty.
"While the earth remaineth, seed-time and harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not cease." Genesis 8:22
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Today
We hiked to the Commanche Lookout Tower. It was a long hike. I took the wagon so I wouldn't have to carry or push Josie. She still wanted me to carry her. I said no. We found out that although she likes bugs, she does
NOT like them to crawl on her. At least not large black beetles. On the way to the tower, Joel had the grand idea to pretend to be Commanches attacking the tower. It was intended to be a nature walk, but it was more nature by osmosis than observation today. I'm ok with that.
NOT like them to crawl on her. At least not large black beetles. On the way to the tower, Joel had the grand idea to pretend to be Commanches attacking the tower. It was intended to be a nature walk, but it was more nature by osmosis than observation today. I'm ok with that.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Because I Actually Have Checked My Blog To See When The Kids Got Their Teeth So I Could Write It In Their Baby Books
See the missing teeth? Er, see where the teeth are missing? They were missing on top, too. They're not missing anymore. 
Thursday, October 18, 2012
The Scoop
I was sick this week for the second time in less than a month. Sick as in sick-in-bed. So that's why I haven't posted anything about how our school term is going or anything like that. Amazingly, it's still going.
We are also attending our second funeral in less than a week tomorrow. The first was for a little 8 year old boy from the church we attend in Austin, the one tomorrow is for a middle aged man from the church we attend in San Antonio. If you think about it, pray for their families.
A photo seems appropriate tonight.
We are also attending our second funeral in less than a week tomorrow. The first was for a little 8 year old boy from the church we attend in Austin, the one tomorrow is for a middle aged man from the church we attend in San Antonio. If you think about it, pray for their families.
A photo seems appropriate tonight.
Tuesday, October 09, 2012
How It Is
Well I am still up, breaking one of my main commitments for the fall: getting enough sleep. I have two consolations, or, justifications. One, we are spending the morning at the park tomorrow. Two, this was really unavoidable and It Just Happens when preparing for birthday parties.
Here's a little preview....
Here's a little preview....
Monday, October 08, 2012
A Poem for Fall
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock,
And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey-cock,
And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hens,
And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence;
O, it's then's the times a feller is a-feelin' at his best,
With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest,
As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes to feed the stock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.
They's something kindo' harty-like about the atmusfere
When the heat of summer's over and the coolin' fall is here --
Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossums on the trees,
And the mumble of the hummin'-birds and buzzin' of the bees;
But the air's so appetizin'; and the landscape through the haze
Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days
Is a pictur' that no painter has the colorin' to mock --
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.
The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn,
And the raspin' of the tangled leaves, as golden as the morn;
The stubble in the furries -- kindo' lonesome-like, but still
A-preachin' sermons to us of the barns they growed to fill;
The strawsack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed;
The hosses in theyr stalls below -- the clover overhead! --
O, it sets my hart a-clickin' like the tickin' of a clock,
When the frost is on the punkin, and the fodder's in the shock!
Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps
Is poured around the celler-floor in red and yeller heaps;
And your cider-makin's over, and your wimmern-folks is through
With their mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and saussage, too!
I don't know how to tell it -- but ef sich a thing could be
As the Angles wantin' boardin', and they'd call around on me --
I'd want to 'commodate 'em -- all the whole-indurin' flock --
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock!
- James Whitcomb Riley
And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey-cock,
And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hens,
And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence;
O, it's then's the times a feller is a-feelin' at his best,
With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest,
As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes to feed the stock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.
They's something kindo' harty-like about the atmusfere
When the heat of summer's over and the coolin' fall is here --
Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossums on the trees,
And the mumble of the hummin'-birds and buzzin' of the bees;
But the air's so appetizin'; and the landscape through the haze
Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days
Is a pictur' that no painter has the colorin' to mock --
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.
The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn,
And the raspin' of the tangled leaves, as golden as the morn;
The stubble in the furries -- kindo' lonesome-like, but still
A-preachin' sermons to us of the barns they growed to fill;
The strawsack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed;
The hosses in theyr stalls below -- the clover overhead! --
O, it sets my hart a-clickin' like the tickin' of a clock,
When the frost is on the punkin, and the fodder's in the shock!
Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps
Is poured around the celler-floor in red and yeller heaps;
And your cider-makin's over, and your wimmern-folks is through
With their mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and saussage, too!
I don't know how to tell it -- but ef sich a thing could be
As the Angles wantin' boardin', and they'd call around on me --
I'd want to 'commodate 'em -- all the whole-indurin' flock --
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock!
- James Whitcomb Riley
Monday, October 01, 2012
My Motto
Having a personal motto is something I adopted during times when I've struggled to just make it through today. After a certain amount of "just make it through today", all the while knowing that you'll just be saying the same thing again to yourself tomorrow just doesn't cut it. HOW? HOW can I make it through today? HOW can I make it through the next day? I know I am going to survive having four children, but HOW am I going to survive?
I knew I needed a new motto for this fall. My old motto wasn't bad, I just needed something different. Something Cindy at Ordo Amoris posted about earlier in the year was how she was going to introduce "Beauty, Truth, and Goodness" as its own "subject", shall we say, during Morning Time. I say this to credit her with giving me the idea of the importance of seeing truth and beauty and goodness. Surrounding yourself with it. Telling yourself the Truth. My motto needed to be Truth. Not some plasticized, "because you're worth it" line to boost my self worth. I needed something deep. Very deep. Something that would go with me all the way down into days when all I have left is dregs.
Last week I decided to open the wrapper to an LP I bought over 10 years ago. It was outdated then, just as it is now. But I didn't notice until I started reading the cover art and the LP began turning circles, that Lynn Pyles was one of the singers. And Rachel Beauchamp. I nearly started crying. Two of my favorite people - real life mentors - singing in my home, singing Truths. The second hymn that came on is one I've heard many times. Not enough.
Children of the Heavenly King
AKA King of Peace, from Southern Harmony, 1835
Words: J. Cennick
Music: Pleyel
Children of the heavenly King,
As ye journey, sweetly sing;
Sing your Savior’s worthy praise,
Glorious in His works and ways
We are traveling home to God,
In the way the fathers trod;
They are happy now, and we
Soon their happiness shall see.
O, ye banished seed, be glad!
Christ our advocate is made;
Us to save, our flesh assumes—
Brother to our souls becomes.
Shout, ye little flock, and blest,
You on Jesus’ throne shall rest:
There your seat is now prepared—
There your kingdom and reward.
Lift your eyes, ye sons of light,
Zion’s city is in sight:
There our endless home shall be,
There our Lord we soon shall see.
Fear not, brethren; joyful stand
On the borders of your land;
Jesus Christ, your Father’s Son,
Bids you undismayed go on.
Lord, obedient we would go,
Gladly leaving all below;
Only Thou our leader be;
And we will still follow Thee.
And there it was. My motto.
"Jesus Christ, your Father’s Son,
Bids you undismayed go on."
I knew I needed a new motto for this fall. My old motto wasn't bad, I just needed something different. Something Cindy at Ordo Amoris posted about earlier in the year was how she was going to introduce "Beauty, Truth, and Goodness" as its own "subject", shall we say, during Morning Time. I say this to credit her with giving me the idea of the importance of seeing truth and beauty and goodness. Surrounding yourself with it. Telling yourself the Truth. My motto needed to be Truth. Not some plasticized, "because you're worth it" line to boost my self worth. I needed something deep. Very deep. Something that would go with me all the way down into days when all I have left is dregs.
Last week I decided to open the wrapper to an LP I bought over 10 years ago. It was outdated then, just as it is now. But I didn't notice until I started reading the cover art and the LP began turning circles, that Lynn Pyles was one of the singers. And Rachel Beauchamp. I nearly started crying. Two of my favorite people - real life mentors - singing in my home, singing Truths. The second hymn that came on is one I've heard many times. Not enough.
Children of the Heavenly King
AKA King of Peace, from Southern Harmony, 1835
Words: J. Cennick
Music: Pleyel
Children of the heavenly King,
As ye journey, sweetly sing;
Sing your Savior’s worthy praise,
Glorious in His works and ways
We are traveling home to God,
In the way the fathers trod;
They are happy now, and we
Soon their happiness shall see.
O, ye banished seed, be glad!
Christ our advocate is made;
Us to save, our flesh assumes—
Brother to our souls becomes.
Shout, ye little flock, and blest,
You on Jesus’ throne shall rest:
There your seat is now prepared—
There your kingdom and reward.
Lift your eyes, ye sons of light,
Zion’s city is in sight:
There our endless home shall be,
There our Lord we soon shall see.
Fear not, brethren; joyful stand
On the borders of your land;
Jesus Christ, your Father’s Son,
Bids you undismayed go on.
Lord, obedient we would go,
Gladly leaving all below;
Only Thou our leader be;
And we will still follow Thee.
And there it was. My motto.
"Jesus Christ, your Father’s Son,
Bids you undismayed go on."
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