Archives for August 2005

As in Ned Flanders, when Homer realized he was Satan, I think that was what it was, anyhoo he said in his lovely nasally voice that Homer needed to be “re-Neducated”. That went right into the Paul/Alison vernacular and has been used since.

I am now officially a homeschooler.

Monday sitting on the couch upstairs, opening the Bible to start our day, The Bean wacking us all in the knees with the giant atlas she was using for a Bible, Birdie sighed, “I miss my friends.”

“I miss sending you away to school,” I wanted to say. I felt like crying and perceived an unfamiliar heaviness. My arm was already around her and C. Riley, so I just hugged them close and we prayed for our school and our day. Later we listened to a song and then I asked Birdie to pray for the Mayan people who we are studying. C. Riley said, “Oh wait I will get my drum to play while Lydia prays” I was about to say no then the an angel with a flaming sword or something stopped me and I realized this is why I am doing this; when my kids get a whacky scheme that helps them stay on task and experience something more fully I can say yes. So I did. He ran and got his bongo and quietly played while Birdie sweetly prayed.

Yesterday as I walked it out, the fear of failure, the heaviness of carrying my kids’ education, the prospect of not a lot of free time there was an underlying peace and I perceived in myself a new gentleness. I felt under grace. Under it, I was able to hear things I hadn’t before, see things I previously couldn’t. I am waiting in some mystery. I have some questions about the way I live, the way I frame the world. I think this is the blessing of obedience and trust – being pulled closer.

I am going to live out loud as I walk through this.

My brother is a photographer and he did two pieces each one has nine separate images on it. I think it’s 9. Would that be three triptychs? Anyway one is titled, “I’m scared” It is pictures of the moon taken in Death Valley. It is an ominous, dark piece. The other is called “I’m listening” and is a series of images of California – the sky, signs to Santa Barbara, very bright and sunny. I get energy looking at it. (Sadly, I don’t own it.)

I have been thinking about these a lot. I want my life to be listening, to be walking through the valley, leaving the desert and declaring the praises of Him who called me out of darkness into His marvelous light.

Please know I don’t equate homeschooling with light, but for me, today, homeschooling is calling out all my trust.

And fear is always the darkness.

I got up around 5 yesterday morning. You know you haven’t been sleeping well when you awake at 5 and are so grateful it is not 4. So I got online and banged out a brilliant blog. Really, it was good. It might have brought peace in our time, saved every marriage, made everyone ever so slightly better looking. I’m telling you it was amazing. For the point I wanted to make I needed to tell a little back story and so I did. I was just getting to the good part, to the place where life as we all know it was going to drastically improve when the power went out and I lost the whole stinking thing.

I had to walk away. There was no retrieving it and I am sorry, for all of us. Know it was there and perhaps some day I will be able to write it again.

Why I have been sleeping terribly I realized is that I am on the verge of a big life shift. Beginning tomorrow I am homeschooling my kids. To nutshell it, God floated the possibility by me last winter and I said “No. Thank you. Really, NO thank you.”

But the thought lingered and so I opened myself to it by prayer and started listening hard. Paul did too. And here we are: God took me through refusal to consideration to resignation to peace to excitement and then I dove into anxiety. I figured this out a week into terrible sleep and the realization that I nolonger have fingernails. Last night I prayed, laid down fear, committed to trust and polished my distressed nails.

Today at church He encouraged me through songs, the sermon, prayer and more songs. He is so good. I am going to trust and obey Him.

As always, if God brings me to mind please pray and if you catch me wearing a denim jumper promise you’ll throw me in a van and race to AnnTaylor.

Of my big list of things to do from yesterday I accomplished vacuuming the pool and making dinner.

I asked C. Riley to help me vacuum. After considering the request for a moment he said, “Indeed. Yes, I will help you.”

Funny.

Of course I got everything set up and handed him the vacuum which he held for approximately 15 seconds before returning it to me, “It’s too difficult.”

So much for having a pool boy.

Last year when we first took possession of the house and were trying to maintain the pool (deathly afraid of blowing up the pump or breaking the heater) we tried to remember what the elderly woman from whom we bought the house taught us. Because I had grown up with a pool, most decisions were deferred to me with the comment, “Well, you’re the poolgirl.” After about the 283rd time this had been said I yelled, “Would you stop that! I haven’t been a pool girl for 15 years!”

He stopped and then we both learned how to take care of the pool. I can’t even tell you how many shouts were exchanged because of the pump and then frustration and how many times forgiveness was requested. I’ll try -it was certainly more than four…I think 72.

Years ago when Birdie (now nearly 8) was 3 going on 30, she announced from the backseat, “Mama, I always love you, but sometimes I don’t like you…I’m sorry, but it’s true.”

Goodness.

We talked for a bit and determined when she first felt the stirrings of dislike was earlier in the day when I had shrieked at her or her brother for some reason. I had already apologized and ostensibly, been forgiven but some discomfort remained. I assured her I understood the whole love/like paradox and expressed my gratitude that she always loved me and the hope that she could like me again. She already did, but the fact that she hadn’t early was still unsettling for her.

Although Birdie only used it the once, “I’m sorry, but it’s true,” is now a part of the family vernacular. Many a time since I have needed to speak the truth with sorrow and how handy to have the perfect phrase that doesn’t minimize the truth but expresses adequate regret.

Feel free to borrow it.

My alarm is set for 6:45, a bit less than 2 hours from now. I am committed to walking with a friend. I really wish I wasn’t awake right now.

I asked this woman to walk with me when I realized she lived very near the walking path I frequented, not frequently enough. She agreed and we started walking Tuesdays and Thursdays in the morning as she had another fitness commitment on the other days.

At the offset I told her I wanted to walk at a brisk pace but I had a tendency to meander. I didn’t actually stop and point at dust particles but…you get the picture. I didn’t want to make the intensity of our walk her responsibility but asked her to speak up if she realized we were lagging. A couple of times she did and then I would gladly pick up the pace. Neither of us really enjoyed walking but the commitment kept us doing it and the company helped pass the time.

A few weeks into it her neighbor joined us. This chick could haul. On our first time out my hip was hurting and then my foot, I knew they would warm up eventually, which they did but by then my lungs were shot. I kept going but at times a step behind them as if I was slightly subservient. I pictured myself just dropping by the side of the road and asking them to come back for me in a car. I kept walking. At the end I was drenched in sweat and felt great.

The next Tuesday it was just Tracey and me again. We walked briskly but I didn’t find myself inventorying what organs I could jettison. I asked Tracey if I was holding her back. We both laughed about what a fast walker her neighbor is.

That Thursday I was waiting on Tracey’s front porch when she came out in a robe. “I can’t walk today. Sorry, I forgot to call. Oh but look there’s Rhina. You two can still walk.” I turned to see her neighbor sprinting towards us and then whispered, “She’s going to kick my can!!!”

We set out. We kept a good pace, but I wasn’t dying. We had a nice talk and a good walk. As we approached the end I told her how glad I was that she had come out.

“I used to walk all the time but I haven’t this summer and gained some weight. It is so much easier to do it when you go with others. Although I knew you guys are only in your 30’s so I was concerned about keeping up.”

!!!!

The woman is 42. I said. “Look sister, you have nothing to worry about. We were busting it to keep up with you.”

We took a couple weeks off for a variety of reasons. Two days ago we got back on it. All of us had had crappy nights of sleep so we were on the same page – good pace, same distance, no heroics.

I have been awake since before 4. What if they are sleeping peacefully?

Insomniacs unite and pray!