I'm thinking about homeschooling the twins... again. Just thinking. I do this about every 6 months or so since they were born. Exactly 3 things happened over the weekend that pointed me in this direction...again. It was just short of skywriting that said "CHOOSE HOMESCHOOLING" or a burning bush.
So maybe I'll do a ton more reading and thinking about this, look for more signs, listen, and try to decide something by the time kindergarten round-up rolls around. It's a big, big decision, but really. How bad could I possibly eff up kindergarten?
Monday, November 17, 2008
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
An Unsolicited Book Review (SPOILER ALERT!)
So I just had to go and read The Shack to find out what all the fuss was about. Here's my two cents in three hundred words or less:
William P. Young has provided us with a quick, engaging, thought-provoking read. He's no John Steinbeck, but I enjoyed reading this story. There were a couple of things, little things, which irritated me. I won't tell you what they were because then if you read it, you'll notice those things too when they otherwise might not have bothered you. It's like when I pick out an annoying little musical turn in a song on the radio, point it out to Steve, and then that's all he can hear about the song. He has thanked me for ruining a handful of good songs for him over the years.
The book is about a man named Mack, a father, who experiences great loss and then gets a chance to have God show up to try and explain it all. It's just like in the book of Job, except this time God is a black woman who says things like "sho'nuff!"(but only sometimes), hangs out in the kitchen cooking constantly, and essentially running a kind of a bed and breakfast out of this shack. She and Jesus and the Holy Spirit, who is an Asian woman, hang out and have conversations and tend gardens and eat and do dishes.
I have to admit, this book did get to me more than I wanted it to. There was a part near the end that had me crying like a baby. Having lost a child, the whole scene where Mack gets to visit his lost daughter and God explains to him how no one in the whole universe thinks it is his fault that she died. Well, yeah. I was a wreck.
I understand there is controversy surrounding the book because of the supposed theology it presents. Whatev, I say. It's a work of fiction.
Have you read it? What do you think?
William P. Young has provided us with a quick, engaging, thought-provoking read. He's no John Steinbeck, but I enjoyed reading this story. There were a couple of things, little things, which irritated me. I won't tell you what they were because then if you read it, you'll notice those things too when they otherwise might not have bothered you. It's like when I pick out an annoying little musical turn in a song on the radio, point it out to Steve, and then that's all he can hear about the song. He has thanked me for ruining a handful of good songs for him over the years.
The book is about a man named Mack, a father, who experiences great loss and then gets a chance to have God show up to try and explain it all. It's just like in the book of Job, except this time God is a black woman who says things like "sho'nuff!"(but only sometimes), hangs out in the kitchen cooking constantly, and essentially running a kind of a bed and breakfast out of this shack. She and Jesus and the Holy Spirit, who is an Asian woman, hang out and have conversations and tend gardens and eat and do dishes.
I have to admit, this book did get to me more than I wanted it to. There was a part near the end that had me crying like a baby. Having lost a child, the whole scene where Mack gets to visit his lost daughter and God explains to him how no one in the whole universe thinks it is his fault that she died. Well, yeah. I was a wreck.
I understand there is controversy surrounding the book because of the supposed theology it presents. Whatev, I say. It's a work of fiction.
Have you read it? What do you think?
Sunday, November 09, 2008
Sunday Thoughts
Today at church our pastor talked about "blessings" but not in the conventional sense of the word. He asked us to consider what things break our hearts, what things make us angry, and what we care about personally that others don't seem to care about...this, he said was our God-given "burden", a blessing he has given us to see the world through his eyes. Our pastor encouraged us to consider our own burden and rather than ignore it, to really let it nestle into our hearts and ruin us. Wreck us. And then take action. It was a powerful message that I am still rolling around in my head. I intstantly identified my own burden and thought about ways I could make more of a positive impact.
A few minutes ago, Simon came in here crying about having gotten hurt. He wanted me to kiss it and wipe away his tears and all that, and then he asked me to do something new. He said, "Mom, go to OW-ie dot com. It'll tell us what to do!"
We've got three birthdays coming up soon. Jake's 16th and the boys' 4th. Steve is planning to take Jake on a hunting weekend near the time of his birthday. I'm not sure yet what we'll do for the boys. We'll likely wait until January to celebrate because their birthday is so close to Christmas and they weren't due until the end of January anyway. We had been celebrating their half birthdays, which I still think is a good idea, but we just didn't get around to it last summer because of the family reunion.
Anyhoo, I was thinking about how Jude is almost 4 and still not talking. Like Cate said (hi Cate), I think if someone had told me when Jude was born that he wouldn't be talking at 4, I'd have been horrified. But you work into these things. Of course we wish he were talking and we're so frustrated at times that he's not more able to let us know what's going on in that noggin of his. And yet, somehow it works. We get by without it.
Last night at the hospital, a 40-something patient with Down syndrome came in with his caregiver who told Steve that the man didn't talk but had a little sign language.
Steve said, "Oh, good! I have a little sign language too," and proceeded to find out from the man that his ear hurt using just those two simple signs, "ear" and "hurt".
I hope Jude's not that guy someday. I hope he would go into the ER and start talking everyone's ear off. But if he is that guy, I hope he gets a doctor like Steve.
A few minutes ago, Simon came in here crying about having gotten hurt. He wanted me to kiss it and wipe away his tears and all that, and then he asked me to do something new. He said, "Mom, go to OW-ie dot com. It'll tell us what to do!"
We've got three birthdays coming up soon. Jake's 16th and the boys' 4th. Steve is planning to take Jake on a hunting weekend near the time of his birthday. I'm not sure yet what we'll do for the boys. We'll likely wait until January to celebrate because their birthday is so close to Christmas and they weren't due until the end of January anyway. We had been celebrating their half birthdays, which I still think is a good idea, but we just didn't get around to it last summer because of the family reunion.
Anyhoo, I was thinking about how Jude is almost 4 and still not talking. Like Cate said (hi Cate), I think if someone had told me when Jude was born that he wouldn't be talking at 4, I'd have been horrified. But you work into these things. Of course we wish he were talking and we're so frustrated at times that he's not more able to let us know what's going on in that noggin of his. And yet, somehow it works. We get by without it.
Last night at the hospital, a 40-something patient with Down syndrome came in with his caregiver who told Steve that the man didn't talk but had a little sign language.
Steve said, "Oh, good! I have a little sign language too," and proceeded to find out from the man that his ear hurt using just those two simple signs, "ear" and "hurt".
I hope Jude's not that guy someday. I hope he would go into the ER and start talking everyone's ear off. But if he is that guy, I hope he gets a doctor like Steve.
Friday, November 07, 2008
Our New President
Yesterday I wrote something here about these amazing times in which we just elected our first black president, something that couldn't have happened a generation or two ago. I wrote that I was happy to have a smart, articulate leader and that despite any differences we may have (half the country), it is now time to support our new president and get to work to solve the problems this country faces. Blah, blah, blah.
I ended up deleting the whole post because I had an anonymous commenter who in the nicest possibly way reminded me to look at all of this from a Christian view and referred me to James Dobson. I respect Dr. Dobson and all the good work he's done over the years at Focus on the Family and agree with him about a whole slew of things. I own some of his books on parenting. I admire his passion and tenacity. But I referred my anonymous commenter to the website www.jamesdobsondoesntspeakforme.com
in which the reverend Kirbyjon Caldwell from Texas outlines the ways in which Dr. Dobson has alienated and offended many Christians who do not confine the values of their faith to two or three issues alone.
Today on the news I saw a story about a man who lives in the next town over, a business owner, who is flying his American flag upside down in protest of our new "socialist marxist" president-elect. He said that it is perfectly legal as a sign of distress. He's had a few of his employees quit because they don't want to be associated with his antics. I've read that Obama has admitted to attending socialist rallies in the past and was endorsed by the Democratic Socialists in this election.
All of the suspicion about how Barack Obama is going to slowly but surely turn this country upside down and inside out reminds me of Aaron Altman's rant from the movie Broadcast News:
Anyway, he's got four years to prove himself to his supporters and change the minds of the dissenters and the great thing about America is that if we don't like it...we can elect someone else. Also, because of the checks and balances, he's not going to be able to go in there and do anything too crazy without the approval of others. Our founding fathers were smart that way.
So I say, everyone just relax. Give him a chance. Pray for our new president, for our country, and for the world.
I ended up deleting the whole post because I had an anonymous commenter who in the nicest possibly way reminded me to look at all of this from a Christian view and referred me to James Dobson. I respect Dr. Dobson and all the good work he's done over the years at Focus on the Family and agree with him about a whole slew of things. I own some of his books on parenting. I admire his passion and tenacity. But I referred my anonymous commenter to the website www.jamesdobsondoesntspeakforme.com
in which the reverend Kirbyjon Caldwell from Texas outlines the ways in which Dr. Dobson has alienated and offended many Christians who do not confine the values of their faith to two or three issues alone.
Today on the news I saw a story about a man who lives in the next town over, a business owner, who is flying his American flag upside down in protest of our new "socialist marxist" president-elect. He said that it is perfectly legal as a sign of distress. He's had a few of his employees quit because they don't want to be associated with his antics. I've read that Obama has admitted to attending socialist rallies in the past and was endorsed by the Democratic Socialists in this election.
All of the suspicion about how Barack Obama is going to slowly but surely turn this country upside down and inside out reminds me of Aaron Altman's rant from the movie Broadcast News:
What do you think the Devil is going to look like if he's around? Nobody is going to be taken in if he has a long, red, pointy tail. No. I'm semi-serious here. He will look attractive and he will be nice and helpful and he will get a job where he influences a great God-fearing nation and he will never do an evil thing... he will just bit by little bit lower standards where they are important. Just coax along flash over substance... Just a tiny bit. And he will talk about all of us really being salesmen. And he'll get all the great women.
Anyway, he's got four years to prove himself to his supporters and change the minds of the dissenters and the great thing about America is that if we don't like it...we can elect someone else. Also, because of the checks and balances, he's not going to be able to go in there and do anything too crazy without the approval of others. Our founding fathers were smart that way.
So I say, everyone just relax. Give him a chance. Pray for our new president, for our country, and for the world.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Monday, October 27, 2008
Simpler times
Last weekend Steve and I and the big kids were sorting through some boxes and bags of outgrown clothes and other random stuff in storage in our basement. The pile kept growing bigger and bigger until finally there was no room to walk around, no path, no discernible order to things. It was past time for this particular chore.
In going through the boxes, I found one that contained probably a hundred letters that I had written Steve while I was a student at Purdue and he was living and working in Cincinnati. This was before the age of email and texting and cell phones...people actually still wrote letters. Does anyone do that anymore?
It was embarrassing to read back through those letters. It was my handwriting; I couldn't deny that I had written them. But I couldn't recognize the girl who wrote those letters 20 years ago. I wrote about things that I don't even have the faintest recollection of now. Even after being reminded of them, I couldn't dredge up a single memory of some of those events taking place. I wrote to Steve while sitting in countless literature classes my parents paid tuition and book fees for while paying not the least bit of attention to my esteemed professors. I'd be a much better, more serious student now, I think.
I wrote about all our plans for the future, many of which have now happened...Steve becoming a doctor, making a whole buncha babies, having a house out in the country. We could have never imagined some of the bumps in the road like our loss of Seth or becoming special needs parents (I'm referring more to us than Jude; we're all pretty "special needs" if you ask me.)
I was optimistic and yet sardonic, wide-eyed and in love while still so unsure of myself, playful, serious, silly, and hopeful. Maybe not as much has changed as I thought.
I guess I'm still most of those things, just a lot older with more battle scars and quite a few stretch marks, too. Some things seemed much clearer to me back then they do now. I believed much more solidly then in the power of prayer and in the trustworthiness of God. I still pray, I still believe, but it hurts to do both. Other things I have a better handle on now: never underestimate the healing properties of a good laugh and a hot bath, there is nothing more beautiful than a sleeping child, and that enduring relationships like the one that Steve and share are some of the best of what this life has to offer.
In going through the boxes, I found one that contained probably a hundred letters that I had written Steve while I was a student at Purdue and he was living and working in Cincinnati. This was before the age of email and texting and cell phones...people actually still wrote letters. Does anyone do that anymore?
It was embarrassing to read back through those letters. It was my handwriting; I couldn't deny that I had written them. But I couldn't recognize the girl who wrote those letters 20 years ago. I wrote about things that I don't even have the faintest recollection of now. Even after being reminded of them, I couldn't dredge up a single memory of some of those events taking place. I wrote to Steve while sitting in countless literature classes my parents paid tuition and book fees for while paying not the least bit of attention to my esteemed professors. I'd be a much better, more serious student now, I think.
I wrote about all our plans for the future, many of which have now happened...Steve becoming a doctor, making a whole buncha babies, having a house out in the country. We could have never imagined some of the bumps in the road like our loss of Seth or becoming special needs parents (I'm referring more to us than Jude; we're all pretty "special needs" if you ask me.)
I was optimistic and yet sardonic, wide-eyed and in love while still so unsure of myself, playful, serious, silly, and hopeful. Maybe not as much has changed as I thought.
I guess I'm still most of those things, just a lot older with more battle scars and quite a few stretch marks, too. Some things seemed much clearer to me back then they do now. I believed much more solidly then in the power of prayer and in the trustworthiness of God. I still pray, I still believe, but it hurts to do both. Other things I have a better handle on now: never underestimate the healing properties of a good laugh and a hot bath, there is nothing more beautiful than a sleeping child, and that enduring relationships like the one that Steve and share are some of the best of what this life has to offer.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Jude's Fall Party, Our Fall Party
Steve and I were able to attend Jude's party at preschool on Thursday and observe him in action. He continues to do fairly well with falling into the routine of things and blending, to some degree, with the other kids.
Jude's occupational therapist happened to be in the room that day and was telling us that Jude has definitely picked up on the whole pecking order that happens whenever children or animals are grouped together. She said Jude knows exactly where he falls in the order and takes every opportunity to pick on those who are below him in it. Jude's OT, Sue, has known him since he was six weeks old and obviously gets a kick out of his spunk, so she was telling us this as if she found it endearing and not annoying. I guess it's good that he is so full of piss and vinegar in that he doesn't allow himself to be picked on, but not good in that he sometimes pushes and pulls and on occasion resorts to biting. Oh, Jude. You do lead us on a merry chase.
Our fall party was here last night.... good times were had by all. We had the barn totally decorated spooky, scary movies, a bonfire, lotsa food, outdoor floodlights for football for those who were so inclined, and hayrides through the cemetery. It was really, really cold so the kids were a little frozen on the hayride, but only one kid literally froze to death, so no harm done.
Relax. Kidding. No casualties at the party. That's pretty much our gauge for success of an event or daily life in general: Did anyone die? Then it was a good day. Low standards, perhaps, but almost always we are able to achieve success using this scale.
Jude's occupational therapist happened to be in the room that day and was telling us that Jude has definitely picked up on the whole pecking order that happens whenever children or animals are grouped together. She said Jude knows exactly where he falls in the order and takes every opportunity to pick on those who are below him in it. Jude's OT, Sue, has known him since he was six weeks old and obviously gets a kick out of his spunk, so she was telling us this as if she found it endearing and not annoying. I guess it's good that he is so full of piss and vinegar in that he doesn't allow himself to be picked on, but not good in that he sometimes pushes and pulls and on occasion resorts to biting. Oh, Jude. You do lead us on a merry chase.
Our fall party was here last night.... good times were had by all. We had the barn totally decorated spooky, scary movies, a bonfire, lotsa food, outdoor floodlights for football for those who were so inclined, and hayrides through the cemetery. It was really, really cold so the kids were a little frozen on the hayride, but only one kid literally froze to death, so no harm done.
Relax. Kidding. No casualties at the party. That's pretty much our gauge for success of an event or daily life in general: Did anyone die? Then it was a good day. Low standards, perhaps, but almost always we are able to achieve success using this scale.
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