school on the brain

It's mid August and that means that i'm starting to wrap my mind around fall - and the idea of homeschooling grades 11, 9, 7, 5, 3, K and one little tornado baby.
After a decade of homeschooling, i found that this year a lot of my preparation happened by browsing my own bookshelves and pulling out favourite dog-eared resources to use again.  It involved buying costco packs of notebooks and pens - and a couple of online orders of classic books that i'd like to round out their educations with... and then stacking it all neatly on my counter to contemplate with twinges of excitement and anxiety.

This doesn't mean that i've got it all figured out. 
Far from it. 
But at least at this stage it saved me a few bucks that will instead be spent on gymnastics and violin lessons. 
So i'm scrambling with the loose ends that i need to consider - what math curriculum for little Miss who didn't like hers last year?  Will sparkling eyed one keep up with hers?  Or will i need to tweak it?  When will the books arrive for the online courses that my biggies are taking?  Will sunshine boy learn to read?  What read alouds will we do?  Will my bigs be too big and my littles be too little to learn together?  Will we finish reading the bible this year?  Will we have enough quiet areas in our crazy house for learning to happen? How will we fit in my commitment to 40 Days for Life - which i feel my Father laying heavy on my heart - far from releasing me from it as i thought He might... Will i really have to prepare meals on top of it all?  And will my travelling man be gone half time like he was last year?
And in great scooping handfulls, i bring it all to Him. The One who bids me to come.  It runs through my fingers like sand as i bring it - each tiny speck of concerned mama-love, every perceived disadvantage, the less than perfect, the possible mistakes and failures. i can't even carry it as it slips through the cracks and runs in streams from my hands and i stack it in a loose pile at His feet.
Take it, Jesus! 
On the cusp of another homeschool year - i remember why i'm doing this: because i'm supposed to.
And it's enough.

discipline

"It is precisely in times of spiritual dryness that we must hold onto our spiritual discipline so that we can grow into new intimacy with God." - Henri Nouwen

Sometimes the waters are so deep and i feel almost embarrassed by my immersion in spiritual things.  My husband will glance at me with one eyebrow cocked and sigh, "Babe - you don't have to take everything in life quite so seriously..."
And i wonder if he's right. 
But then there are other times that i remember the way my Father cradled me during those times of depth - the way that the timbre of His voice was familiarly strong and i miss the passion that coloured my view of each day as i find myself slipping into a period of dryness. i remember the growth, the surrender, the changes brought on by insights He so tenderly revealed... and i want it back... my embarrassing passion. 
i've found the older that i get - the less i take my relationship with God for granted. It's for my own sake that i tend it during periods of dryness - that i allow myself to feel some grief over my lack of discipline - and sluggishly allow Him to continue to speak into my life.
It's amazing to me that these times of dryness are also times of growth.
It's kind of like the hope described in my favourite passage in Romans 8: ²⁴ For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? ²⁵ But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.
It's less comfortable - to grow in dryness. It makes us more vulnerable to listen when His voice isn't clear. It's when my need is less obvious - that i realize that He's still there... because He's always there... because He loves me. 
And so - whether immersed - or dry - i'll cling to my Source, and in gratitude allow the intimacy to grow. 

1. I need Thee every hour, most gracious Lord;
   No tender voice like Thine can peace afford.
   
   • Refrain:
     I need Thee, oh, I need Thee;
     Every hour I need Thee;
     Oh, bless me now, my Savior,
     I come to Thee.
2. I need Thee every hour, stay Thou nearby;
   Temptations lose their pow’r when Thou art nigh.
3. I need Thee every hour, in joy or pain;
   Come quickly and abide, or life is vain.
4. I need Thee every hour; teach me Thy will;
   And Thy rich promises in me fulfill.
5. I need Thee every hour, most Holy One;
   Oh, make me Thine indeed, Thou blessed Son.

(Annie S. Hawks & Robert Lowry)

love language

Totally unfair that mine is touch. 
He knows it too - he knew it way before i did and has used it to his advantage all these years since we became each other's. 
His is boring - acts of service... blehhhh. 
How to compare that crazed mind blown feeling when he touches me - to scrubbing out a toilet for him so that he feels my love too? 
But it's a give and take this mysterious love - it's an igniting and it's feeding - it's wanting and it's subduing - it's butterflies and chores - all working together to make something uniquely ours. 
And stutteringly i learn his language - just as he became fluent in mine. Carefully i memorize the cadence of the unfamiliar tongue that speaks to him my adoration. It will take me a lifetime to master it - sweet joy that the resulting work turns into a stunning masterpiece. 
And yes - sometimes a word - a touch - an action - is hopelessly mistranslated. Sometimes my faith fails me and i doubt that this pretty picture could really belong to us. Sometimes we choose to speak in our own languages and the beautiful meaning becomes meaningless to the one who finds the message to be indecipherable. 
But then - i pick up where i left off.  i learn the basics, he teaches me his alphabet and i show him mine.  We strip down our language barrier with our bare hands - and love wins. 

whale watching

My sister and i decided to fly out to Victoria to celebrate my mama's 60th birthday with her.  While we were out there, my mom treated us to a three hour whale watching tour... Would you believe we didn't see *one* whale? 

As we tore back to shore, jess turned to me... "Those whales only have to hold their breath for 15 more minutes."
And they did it too. 

And is that how 60 years pass? In three hour increments - tasting the salt spray on your lips and looking for something you might never see - but you know is there?  Laughing with those you love - feeling the rock of the waves beneath you and the sun drying the damp from your hair as you're carried deeper, farther from shore. 
Maybe.  Maybe it is...
Life is such a gift.  He's constantly showing me that... It's so dainty and frail - it's really so terribly brief and perplexing. i'm so grateful for each three hour window - taking me into the unknown and allowing me to grow. 

i would have

Sometimes it takes a minute - or a month - to catch your breath. 
That's how i feel about you, Tiny. 
i thought that maybe since you were so wee - and my husband so unready... i thought that since i was so overwhelmed and my children so unsuspecting - that maybe i just wouldn't have to hurt over your Homecoming... quite so much. 
But there's this queer little ache that refuses to be shushed. 
You lived. 
And i don't care if i'm thought ridiculous anymore. 
i don't care. 
i don't need or want to talk with anyone about it - but it seems i'm incapable of escaping grief altogether... and so in this sojourning place... i'll just whisper the words of this post...
i would have loved you, Tiny. 
i would have defended your existence to your hesitant daddy.  i would have cleared out a tiny spot for you to lay your downy head.  i would have gone though morning sickness, stretch marks, discomfort and illness... in a heartbeat.  i would have taken the disapproving looks of friends and strangers...
i would have protected you with every ounce of strength i have...
if i'd have had the chance.