My daughter has this CD with a song on it, _Tears of the Saints_ by Leeland.
The first time i heard it, i pricked up my ears - such a sorrowful chord progression and delicate melody... but i couldn't put my finger on the meaning of the words that seemed to acknowledge something i had long believed.
Lately, i have been listening to it again - & i think i have discovered what it is about the song that resonates with me...
From what i hear in popular culture - the media - and most social circles, Christians are known for their judgemental natures. They're known for their lack of compassion and their anger. Christians have reputations for fighting each other for the opportunity to cast the first stone - and for their arrogant hypocrisy.
i know that this isn't a true picture of the followers of Jesus...
What resonated with me about this song - was the quality of mercy. The forgiven gently offering an invitation to meet the Redeemer...
What if Christians became known for their mercy? What if Christians gained a reputation for defending the weak and the fatherless? What if through the acknowledgement of our own brokenness, our authenticity drew others Homeward... to the only One who can heal, restore and Redeem?
What if... one day... they know we are Christians by our love?
Claim me, Father - let me be a part of a generation that longs to reflect your compassionate heart...
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Friday, March 4, 2011
Homefires
It's dark in the tiny hut where they wake before dawn and he gathers what he needs in a small leather sack. The soft tones of their pre-dawn voices don't wake the wee ones sprawled on the floor throughout the one tiny room. Her fingers, still tight with sleep, pack his food and necessities quickly and efficiently. The comforts of home wrapped neatly in strips of cloth and tucked away in his bag.
He grabs a stick, and jabs it into the fire - watching a tiny flame leap up and claim a dry piece of wood. He has split and stacked an ample supply neatly beside the fireplace. The winter has been long, harsh and wet - and yet his forethought kept them warm and dry. They are provided for. He could be gone for days... weeks even... depending on what game he can find.
So many little mouths...
The door opens - letting in a blast of arctic air and an angry lash of snow - and then shuts softly behind him. The little ones murmur in their sleep, voicing complaints over this slap of cold. Their mama shushes them and pulls their blankets up around their ears before settling herself back - determinedly in front of the Homefire.
Morning will come - days followed by nights... hours long with labour and toil and care, but the burning embers will never cease to be fed. The wood he faithfully stacked will be used in his absence as she tends to the little ones... and keeps the Homefire burning.
As the flames ebb, and threaten to die - she will gently add fuel, poking the embers and watching them lick the bark, tasting, growing in a hungry dance, before finally consuming - nourishing - the Homefires.
Neighbours stop by, letting in the frigid air... "You should be more grateful," they admonish, "His toil is all for your benefit - his labour keeps you in this comfort..." they say waving their hands in broad strokes around her home.
She says nothing - her gratitude is her hidden treasure that she won't allow to be tarnished and needlessly defended to those who don't know any better. She's glad when they're done counting her blessings for her, because what they see is so minuscule compared to the lavishness of the blessings she counts in the night as sleep threatens to overtake her and she wrestles against it. Sleep must wait - and be measured out carefully between the feedings of her precious occupation. Wearily, she doggedly tends the Homefire.
Over time, the stacks of wood dwindle. She sweeps clean the floor beneath them, and dumps the splinters of wood and bark that remain into the waning blaze... The little ones sleep in the comfort and warmth of a home that is still heated with the flames of the Homefire, until finally -there is a light step at the door... arms laden with enough to replenish their stocks, he steps inside - carefully shutting the door against the winter that never ceases to rage outdoors. He stamps his feet, and the snow falls and melts where it lands. She lifts his burdens and helps him unpack his nearly gone provisions. He reaches his hands, red with cold, towards the glowing embers.
His eyes meet hers... grateful to come home to find the Homefire still burning.
He grabs a stick, and jabs it into the fire - watching a tiny flame leap up and claim a dry piece of wood. He has split and stacked an ample supply neatly beside the fireplace. The winter has been long, harsh and wet - and yet his forethought kept them warm and dry. They are provided for. He could be gone for days... weeks even... depending on what game he can find.
So many little mouths...
The door opens - letting in a blast of arctic air and an angry lash of snow - and then shuts softly behind him. The little ones murmur in their sleep, voicing complaints over this slap of cold. Their mama shushes them and pulls their blankets up around their ears before settling herself back - determinedly in front of the Homefire.
Morning will come - days followed by nights... hours long with labour and toil and care, but the burning embers will never cease to be fed. The wood he faithfully stacked will be used in his absence as she tends to the little ones... and keeps the Homefire burning.
As the flames ebb, and threaten to die - she will gently add fuel, poking the embers and watching them lick the bark, tasting, growing in a hungry dance, before finally consuming - nourishing - the Homefires.
Neighbours stop by, letting in the frigid air... "You should be more grateful," they admonish, "His toil is all for your benefit - his labour keeps you in this comfort..." they say waving their hands in broad strokes around her home.
She says nothing - her gratitude is her hidden treasure that she won't allow to be tarnished and needlessly defended to those who don't know any better. She's glad when they're done counting her blessings for her, because what they see is so minuscule compared to the lavishness of the blessings she counts in the night as sleep threatens to overtake her and she wrestles against it. Sleep must wait - and be measured out carefully between the feedings of her precious occupation. Wearily, she doggedly tends the Homefire.
Over time, the stacks of wood dwindle. She sweeps clean the floor beneath them, and dumps the splinters of wood and bark that remain into the waning blaze... The little ones sleep in the comfort and warmth of a home that is still heated with the flames of the Homefire, until finally -there is a light step at the door... arms laden with enough to replenish their stocks, he steps inside - carefully shutting the door against the winter that never ceases to rage outdoors. He stamps his feet, and the snow falls and melts where it lands. She lifts his burdens and helps him unpack his nearly gone provisions. He reaches his hands, red with cold, towards the glowing embers.
His eyes meet hers... grateful to come home to find the Homefire still burning.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
writing samples part 1
Writing... one of the hardest things for me to teach as a homeschool mom. It seems each child will grow at their own pace, and learn- eventually - to put words together in coherent sentences on a piece of paper... but it's hard to explain how, exactly, to get from point A to point B.Each year, our facilitator visits us about 3 times. Each time, she asks for writing samples. This year, i started a folder where i keep all their little writing samples between visits. i make them write me a page of *something, anything* every day. (After the visit, i staple them together and store them elsewhere... i'll probably purge most of it at the end of the year). She likes to have something more 'polished' to look at too - a writing sample that has been edited and reworked to represent the child's best work. Now, i'll be honest - this is usually a big headache for me. BUT, this past week, as i was helping the littles put together their writing samples for our upcoming facilitator visit, i opened up my inbox to find this little gem from my reluctant writer, Peyton.
Brilliant job, sparkling eyed one.
She was inspired by these 2 little figurines she got at the AWANA store that can look different depending on how you look at them.
Earlier this week, i posted an essay that my 9th grader wrote on facebook - we got so many positive comments that i was a little embarrassed - haha - but the topic of her essay was, "Why Home schooling Was the Right Choice For Me" or something like that & it was such an encouraging little paper.
Maybe i'll try to preserve a couple of samples here - to remember the hard work that went into this funny little crevice of our home school journey.
***Edited for clarity and spelling.
Two Friends - by Peyton Beselt, grade 5
I'm going to tell you a tale about a former. Maybe you don't know what a former is. A former is a person who can snap their fingers and become an animal, and then snap their paws and become a human again! The one I will tell you about today was rich, big, and wrinkly. Can you guess what kind of a former he was? He was an elephant prince.
The elephant prince was walking in his garden one day when he saw something in his pine cones. He ran over and looked, and to his surprise, he found a hedgehog; a big, prickly, hedgehog! As the elephant prince watched, from behind his rosebushes, the hedgehog snapped his paws and turned into a dwarf! The elephant prince was astonished and he snapped his paws and turned into a big fat guy. He said, “What are you doing in my pine cones, Sir? I’m phoning the cops!”
“No! Please no! Please don’t phone them! I won’t trespass ever again, please!”
“So what am I supposed do with you now smarty pants? Are you a former?... Answer my question!”
“What do you mean?” The dwarf asked, trying to pretend he didn't know what the prince was talking about.
“Are you a former like me?“ The prince demanded again.
The hedgehog finally gave in, “Yes, but you can’t tell anyone, ok?”
“Ok. But only if you don’t tell anyone about me.”
The two agreed not to tell anyone about the other for fear the scientists would take them in for testing like they had done with any formers found in the past.
So the rich prince took the dwarf inside for some real food and something to drink. They talked and talked and soon became good friends. They played every day for weeks, finally feeling like someone else understood them. Neither one told the other former’s secret to anyone. They loved each other so much that one day, the elephant prince invited the hedgehog to come live in his castle for life. The hedgehog agreed to stay and they shared the castle and their friendship grew, until one day there was news of a former discovered in the country - a dwarf that could turn into a hedgehog! The news said that an elephant had informed them about this former who was still in hiding. The hedgehog was watching T.V. in his room when he saw it, and he was certain that his friend, the elephant prince, had betrayed him. He was so sad his tears flooded his house. When the elephant prince came to his quarters on Best Friend Friday to play as they had made a habit of doing, the hedgehog would not let him in or speak to him. The elephant did not know what to say or do, so he just stood outside the door. He started to cry. He didn’t even know what he had done. Then he heard something. It was the dwarf, “I heard that you reported me on T.V... you promised you wouldn't!” he said.
“What? I haven’t even been on T.V. for months!” the elephant said, confused.
“You don’t have to lie, I know what I saw ok? Nobody else knows about me. You're the only one! Just, just leave me alone.” And the hedgehog started to cry again.
“No! I promise I didn’t do anything! Please just listen to me. I promise, I did nothing to hurt your feelings or put you in danger! At least let me see the video.”
Finally the dwarf agreed to watch the video with the prince. As the dwarf watched it a second time, he wondered if he could have been wrong...“But then how did they know about me, Prince?” said the dwarf.
“I don’t know, but I am going to find out. Whoever is responsible will be sorry for what he did to you! Just wait until I find him! But for now, we will have to hide you to keep you safe. They will be looking all over the country for both hedgehogs and dwarves. You will have to be very careful until this all dies down.”
The next day, the dwarf found out that his favourite stuffy was gone! In that moment, he knew that it was his stuffy, Mr. Poopants that had betrayed him! He decided to stay up and see what would happen. Finally, at one in the morning, he saw an elephant sneaking around the corner. As he was about to come in the door, he formed into Mr. Poopants! The dwarf was so mad he grabbed Mr. Poopants and chained him up in his closet. He locked the doors and ran to the palace as fast as he could. He slammed open the door and started screaming, "Elephant!!!!" until the elephant came running down the stairs as fast as he could. When he reached the landing, he found the dwarf in a corner curled up in a little ball crying. The dwarf spilled out everything and started to cry again. The elephant comforted his friend and said that it was ok, he didn’t have to apologize for his accusations.
Suddenly, the dwarf realized that Mr. Poopants was still locked up in the closet. They ran back to the dwarf's room and found him just as he was trying to escape. The elephant kicked him so hard, he landed in the next country. They knew he would never try to tell on them again now that they knew he was a former too! They were safe again!
The friends lived in the castle and spent every Best Friends Friday together forever.
I'm going to tell you a tale about a former. Maybe you don't know what a former is. A former is a person who can snap their fingers and become an animal, and then snap their paws and become a human again! The one I will tell you about today was rich, big, and wrinkly. Can you guess what kind of a former he was? He was an elephant prince.
The elephant prince was walking in his garden one day when he saw something in his pine cones. He ran over and looked, and to his surprise, he found a hedgehog; a big, prickly, hedgehog! As the elephant prince watched, from behind his rosebushes, the hedgehog snapped his paws and turned into a dwarf! The elephant prince was astonished and he snapped his paws and turned into a big fat guy. He said, “What are you doing in my pine cones, Sir? I’m phoning the cops!”
“No! Please no! Please don’t phone them! I won’t trespass ever again, please!”
“So what am I supposed do with you now smarty pants? Are you a former?... Answer my question!”
“What do you mean?” The dwarf asked, trying to pretend he didn't know what the prince was talking about.
“Are you a former like me?“ The prince demanded again.
The hedgehog finally gave in, “Yes, but you can’t tell anyone, ok?”
“Ok. But only if you don’t tell anyone about me.”
The two agreed not to tell anyone about the other for fear the scientists would take them in for testing like they had done with any formers found in the past.
So the rich prince took the dwarf inside for some real food and something to drink. They talked and talked and soon became good friends. They played every day for weeks, finally feeling like someone else understood them. Neither one told the other former’s secret to anyone. They loved each other so much that one day, the elephant prince invited the hedgehog to come live in his castle for life. The hedgehog agreed to stay and they shared the castle and their friendship grew, until one day there was news of a former discovered in the country - a dwarf that could turn into a hedgehog! The news said that an elephant had informed them about this former who was still in hiding. The hedgehog was watching T.V. in his room when he saw it, and he was certain that his friend, the elephant prince, had betrayed him. He was so sad his tears flooded his house. When the elephant prince came to his quarters on Best Friend Friday to play as they had made a habit of doing, the hedgehog would not let him in or speak to him. The elephant did not know what to say or do, so he just stood outside the door. He started to cry. He didn’t even know what he had done. Then he heard something. It was the dwarf, “I heard that you reported me on T.V... you promised you wouldn't!” he said.
“What? I haven’t even been on T.V. for months!” the elephant said, confused.
“You don’t have to lie, I know what I saw ok? Nobody else knows about me. You're the only one! Just, just leave me alone.” And the hedgehog started to cry again.
“No! I promise I didn’t do anything! Please just listen to me. I promise, I did nothing to hurt your feelings or put you in danger! At least let me see the video.”
Finally the dwarf agreed to watch the video with the prince. As the dwarf watched it a second time, he wondered if he could have been wrong...“But then how did they know about me, Prince?” said the dwarf.
“I don’t know, but I am going to find out. Whoever is responsible will be sorry for what he did to you! Just wait until I find him! But for now, we will have to hide you to keep you safe. They will be looking all over the country for both hedgehogs and dwarves. You will have to be very careful until this all dies down.”
The next day, the dwarf found out that his favourite stuffy was gone! In that moment, he knew that it was his stuffy, Mr. Poopants that had betrayed him! He decided to stay up and see what would happen. Finally, at one in the morning, he saw an elephant sneaking around the corner. As he was about to come in the door, he formed into Mr. Poopants! The dwarf was so mad he grabbed Mr. Poopants and chained him up in his closet. He locked the doors and ran to the palace as fast as he could. He slammed open the door and started screaming, "Elephant!!!!" until the elephant came running down the stairs as fast as he could. When he reached the landing, he found the dwarf in a corner curled up in a little ball crying. The dwarf spilled out everything and started to cry again. The elephant comforted his friend and said that it was ok, he didn’t have to apologize for his accusations.
Suddenly, the dwarf realized that Mr. Poopants was still locked up in the closet. They ran back to the dwarf's room and found him just as he was trying to escape. The elephant kicked him so hard, he landed in the next country. They knew he would never try to tell on them again now that they knew he was a former too! They were safe again!
The friends lived in the castle and spent every Best Friends Friday together forever.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
dating...
My oldest is only 14... so it's a little early for this flavour of a post...
but some thoughts are starting to take shape in my mind regarding the tender shoots of womanhood that are starting to sprout in our house... so here it is:
i abhor the idea of my girls dating before they're finished high school. Call me naive, call me over protective, tell me knowingly, "you'll see..." & maybe i will - but i can't change the way i feel.
This doesn't have everything to do with my history (though, i'm sure my personal experiences must come into play a little...) it has everything to do with trying to remove from my house & our family the societal pressure to cave to whatever the masses have deemed normal.
So, you can imagine that despite the fact that we haven't come to any hard & fast conclusions as far as dating goes for our small fry, alarm bells went off for me when my oldest informed me as she slipped on her jacket to head out the door, "Aaron (the youth pastor) is giving us the 'dating talk' tonight, mom."
i stopped what i was doing.
i felt a fierce, animal protection for my little girls & i almost didn't want to let them go to youth. Honestly - if they hadn't been so looking forward to being a part of the music for the night, i probably would have suggested keeping them home. That line from Song of Solomon about not arousing or awakening love until it so desires came to mind - & i felt like my girls were still too young and fresh for this particular topic.
i wasn't at their ages.
And this is no disrespect to my mom & dad - or to whatever youth program was happening at the church we went to when i was a girl... but i wished, often, as a young woman that i had been more sheltered, protected, defended - as a child... because at 12 & 14? They're still children... Believe me - i'm not saying this to cast any blame for my bad choices on anyone else, but this feeling of regret has resulted in a fierceness in my desire to protect the children i have... and maybe it's part of what made homeschooling so appealing to me. i didn't want others to offer their opinions or to shape my little one's views of what's acceptable, normal and right. The voices out there in the world? Those voices are loud... they're loud & brash & ignorant of the value of each little person. There are so many of these voices vying for their attention & i'll say it: i wanna shelter them a bit... give them a fighting chance to hear that Still Small Voice above the din, because who better? Who loves them more - who knows the weaknesses and the strengths that each one has?
i told Cai that they could go, listen to the dating talk, but then when she came home, we'd talk some more about what she'd heard.
When we did get the chance to talk about it, i was surprised that i agreed with far more of what she had heard than i disagreed with... i realized too - as she talked a whole lot more than i did in our little debriefing session, that she's a more secure, determined and confident girl than i was at her age & that even though my protectiveness is a God given instinct... my fears aren't.
So speak, Still Small Voice... guide my girls - and my little boys too - in your paths everlasting... & give them ears to hear & tender little hearts that obey.
but some thoughts are starting to take shape in my mind regarding the tender shoots of womanhood that are starting to sprout in our house... so here it is:
i abhor the idea of my girls dating before they're finished high school. Call me naive, call me over protective, tell me knowingly, "you'll see..." & maybe i will - but i can't change the way i feel.
This doesn't have everything to do with my history (though, i'm sure my personal experiences must come into play a little...) it has everything to do with trying to remove from my house & our family the societal pressure to cave to whatever the masses have deemed normal.
So, you can imagine that despite the fact that we haven't come to any hard & fast conclusions as far as dating goes for our small fry, alarm bells went off for me when my oldest informed me as she slipped on her jacket to head out the door, "Aaron (the youth pastor) is giving us the 'dating talk' tonight, mom."
i stopped what i was doing.
i felt a fierce, animal protection for my little girls & i almost didn't want to let them go to youth. Honestly - if they hadn't been so looking forward to being a part of the music for the night, i probably would have suggested keeping them home. That line from Song of Solomon about not arousing or awakening love until it so desires came to mind - & i felt like my girls were still too young and fresh for this particular topic.
i wasn't at their ages.
And this is no disrespect to my mom & dad - or to whatever youth program was happening at the church we went to when i was a girl... but i wished, often, as a young woman that i had been more sheltered, protected, defended - as a child... because at 12 & 14? They're still children... Believe me - i'm not saying this to cast any blame for my bad choices on anyone else, but this feeling of regret has resulted in a fierceness in my desire to protect the children i have... and maybe it's part of what made homeschooling so appealing to me. i didn't want others to offer their opinions or to shape my little one's views of what's acceptable, normal and right. The voices out there in the world? Those voices are loud... they're loud & brash & ignorant of the value of each little person. There are so many of these voices vying for their attention & i'll say it: i wanna shelter them a bit... give them a fighting chance to hear that Still Small Voice above the din, because who better? Who loves them more - who knows the weaknesses and the strengths that each one has?
i told Cai that they could go, listen to the dating talk, but then when she came home, we'd talk some more about what she'd heard.
When we did get the chance to talk about it, i was surprised that i agreed with far more of what she had heard than i disagreed with... i realized too - as she talked a whole lot more than i did in our little debriefing session, that she's a more secure, determined and confident girl than i was at her age & that even though my protectiveness is a God given instinct... my fears aren't.
So speak, Still Small Voice... guide my girls - and my little boys too - in your paths everlasting... & give them ears to hear & tender little hearts that obey.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
watching the mailbox...
They all know by now - that mama is watching that old mailbox.
My son comes in with puffs of frigid air and slams the door shut, "Sorry mom!" he calls, setting the mail key back in it's spot.
Neil grins at me, "How many days since it shipped?"
"It was a week on Thursday..." i reply.
"Yeh, but we had a long weekend in there... it'll come this week for sure..."
& i feel a little silly - that my tiny brood is watching with me for the proof copy of that little bound book with 168 pages of my words typed in black ink to arrive. They're watching me do something a little crazy - just the tiniest bit like King David's passionate dance...
My son comes in with puffs of frigid air and slams the door shut, "Sorry mom!" he calls, setting the mail key back in it's spot.
Neil grins at me, "How many days since it shipped?"
"It was a week on Thursday..." i reply.
"Yeh, but we had a long weekend in there... it'll come this week for sure..."
& i feel a little silly - that my tiny brood is watching with me for the proof copy of that little bound book with 168 pages of my words typed in black ink to arrive. They're watching me do something a little crazy - just the tiniest bit like King David's passionate dance...
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