Finding rest in the midst of chaos

I sit across the table from her in the early morning as we drink coffee in the corner of this tiny breakfast spot that is a 45 minute drive for both of us.  It’s the perfect middle meeting place.  She drives south as I’m driving north.  It isn’t anything pretty to look at, this little diner that seems to be full of locals who all know each other and talk farming and friendship and bureaucracy.  But to me, on this rainy Saturday, it is sacred ground.

We’ve somehow managed to carve out time with none of our combined thirteen children and have two full hours of face time.  Not the electronic app type, but the real kind where I can reach across my coffee cup and touch her arm.  There is little time for chit chat or anything light or mindless, not today.  We know our time is short and we both know too there is heartache of many varieties on each side of the table.  There are twenty five years of friendship in between as well.

Our banter is quiet and though we find things to laugh about, as we exchange words and share about life, something happens that is always a bit beyond the reach of my understanding.  Somehow, in the sharing, in the hearing, in the remembering together, the burdens that are pressing so heavy on my heart are lifted just a bit.  We don’t answer any big questions or solve any mysteries.  The process reminds me of these words that are life to me these days…

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light. (Matthew 11:28-30)

These two hours are rest for my soul.  In the midst of the talking, the listening and the tears there is some sort of mysterious exchange.  It feels like she is a stand-in for Jesus.  There isn’t any better way to describe it.  In daring to speak out loud my deep sadness and struggle, and listening to hers….in shouldering it alongside each other in the corner booth, it doesn’t weigh the same.  It is lighter.

At certain times, I think God knows we need a physical person to represent him in our life.  We need someone living, breathing, sitting right there whose own eyes well up when they see us cry.  Someone who holds no judgement over our failure or mistakes.  Someone who doesn’t offer an answer but extends compassion and makes sure we know they aren’t going anywhere.  We can read in a book or on a blog or know God’s word by memory, all sorts of truth.  But there are moments in life when things press in a little (or a lot) too hard and we need a person who looks like Jesus to hold us up, to bear with us under the weight of life, until we can stand again.

Thankful today that we don’t have to walk it alone.  That one way or another, God stands near.  Ever present in our pain.

The older woman

I’m only thirty five.  I feel like I’m still in my twenties though truth be told I love this age and I love this decade of my life more than any of the ones prior.  My twenties were awfully insecure for me.  No doubt I missed out on a good many things just because I was too worried about what someone thought to “just do it” or “just say it”.

These days, increasingly, someone asks a question or seeks advice about something and it catches me off guard.  My first blush response is usually (in my head at least) “I have no idea – I’m not qualified to answer that”.  And then I usually say something (out loud) that hopefully sounds like “I may not be qualified but I’m at least willing to try to help”.

Last year I got off the phone with someone and told my husband in disbelief:

I’m the older woman.  How can that be?!

I’m not sure how it happened, how I got to be thirty five and have six children over a ten year span and be married to the same (amazing) man for almost 15 years.  Well, of course I sort of know how most of that happened.  But the point is I still feel like the young, inexperienced, not-excellent-at-anything mother.  And regardless of anything redeeming I’m able to share with anyone, anywhere – I really need a still-older-than-me woman to beckon me down this path.

Last month I thought to myself “How does any mother make it without a Mrs. Nelson?”.  She’s a teacher at our homeschool co-op.  She had my two older sons in class last year, dealt graciously with the one who can be challenging and has my two middle ones this year.  Last year she spoke just a few kind words about my son that told me she gets it, she gets him and she sees good things in him despite his difficulties.  I can’t explain what that meant to me.  She affirmed who he was; his nature-loving, quiet, bright, book-devouring self.  I remember the tears the day I realized she saw great things when all I could see in that moment was a mess.  She spoke life.  She invited herself over this summer and I could hardly believe she’d want to come spend an afternoon over her break from school on my front porch but she did.  She engaged all of my children that day in the most delightful way.  It was such a gift to me.

When Caleb hurt his hand and had surgery she was quick to offer to come help at the Fair with kids and goats and anything.  It totally blessed me.  She came and she helped in the most practical ways.  She gently, firmly corrected my five year old who grabbed kettle corn out of her bag without asking.  She somehow did that with such grace that I didn’t feel judged for my daughter being a little bit rude, only thankful for the kind correction.  Mrs. Nelson continues to give me little pep talks and words of encouragement along the way and truly, some days, they hold me up in ways nothing else quite could.  And it makes me wonder, over and again, how people survive the arduous, un-glamorous, largely-without-thanks but most incredible privilege of motherhood if they don’t have a few good cheerleaders who are further down the road than they are.

In the same regard, we have Suzanne.  She texts me spur of the moment and says “can I bring you coffee?”.  She has a long lunch some days of the week.  Why anyone would stop by our crazy house on their lunch hour I have no idea.  And we don’t exactly live in the city or on anyone’s way anywhere.  So for someone to pop by with coffee is most unusual.  And most wonderful.  Her stay is always short and she makes sure to “check in” with each of my children.  Her genuine interest in their goings on is totally precious.  She is one of those people you meet and think “too good to be true, too sweet to be real?”.  But she’s the real thing.  She wrote me these words a while back that I come back to over and again (her email is tucked in my ‘special’ folder):

 Full of tender mercy & love, fiercely devoted to your family- that is how I see you.

Heaven knows as mothers we sure don’t see ourselves in a lovely light every day, most days probably.  I’d been discouraged and sad and unable to see past my failure of the moment when she wrote me that note.  It literally infused hope just when I needed it.  We often need someone else to tell us how they see us because what we see isn’t always an accurate picture.

The most lovely thing is as they cheer me on, I am inspired to do the same with the mama’s who are coming along after me.  It’s beautiful.  I’m fairly sure it’s the way life is supposed to work and part of how we were mysteriously, intricately, lovingly created by a gracious God to abide in community with others.

Why we homeschool

I love reading other people’s post about why they homeschool and I used to struggle to formulate a proper response succinctly when people would ask me why on earth I would choose to keep my kids with me all day, all year.  So this year, really for myself more than anyone, I thought I ought to make myself write out some thoughts on the matter.

There are a lot of reasons why we homeschool now though if I’m honest in the beginning it was more from fear of other options and a dreamy hope that we would whittle away blissful days of learning together.  While we do spend days learning together and it is awesome, bliss isn’t probably the best descriptor.  Chaotic, messy, loud, passionate, frustrating, rewarding and meaningful would better fit the bill.

One of my favorite aspects of home based learning is that learning becomes a lifestyle that we live out together.  We don’t sequester off a ‘school room’ and only do school certain minutes in that certain place.  Though some times and spots (the kitchen bar or table or couch or covered front porch or under a tree on the front lawn)  we do more traditional work, the boundaries of home and school blend into a beautiful mess.  It can be a Saturday morning at 10 and Caleb can find a brilliant green striped caterpillar and we can work on identifying and classifying it together.  It can be Rylee not feeling well and waiting till 4 pm to sit down for her math lesson because she tends to work best later in the day anyway.  It can be a week that several people we know are sick or in need and we spend a Tuesday baking and cooking food together then delivering it to bellies that will be blessed by it.  Life and learning and loving get all wound up in this indescribable way and it is hands down, every day worth the sacrifice and the work.  It’s worth missing out on coffee dates with friends after school-drop-off time and time to pursue hobbies and such.

We are able to adjust for different children’s learning pace and style when they learn in this setting.  This has been a huge blessing as we’ve watched our children grow and develop in their skills and styles.  I am challenged to be a student of my students and to figure out how best to bring them to feast on knowledge, truth and great literature.

Facilitating sibling communication and relationships, sometimes my least favorite job, is also a part of our learning lifestyle.  We get all day to figure out how to work together, how to all pitch in to make this home run smoothly, how to honor mom and how to work hard.  We mess it all up all the time and we learn and we get the chance to give grace every single day.

When we talk about the stars in the sky and read about the founding fathers, I marvel and wonder out loud at how God works and designs and uses the lives of people to make history.  This I love.  I could not imagine not being the one to stand before them impassioned and animated reading the Declaration of Independence and talking about what freedom means and the price so many have paid for us to enjoy it.

We can hunker down and get a school-days worth of work completed in a couple of hours.  Then we can pursue carving, sewing, tree-climbing, adventure-finding and delight in nature before the sun goes down.  We can have friends over or go to classes at co-op or take field trips when we fancy.  Even if its a weekday afternoon or morning.  The freedom and flexibility abound and I love that.

The way ‘school’ soaks into life and the kitchen table gets covered with handwriting practice and maps.

The chance to be the one learning the most about who my kids are, how they can thrive, what they are passionate about and what sorts of choices (and friends) they are making, I am incredibly grateful for this.

Just a part of the iceberg here, more thoughts are mulling about but for now, I’ll just say that the (official) new school year is upon us and I can’t wait to dive in when the day is here.  But for these last few days of summer, you’ll find me sleeping in, drinking coffee on the front porch at 10 am in my jammies with my kiddos hanging around…

loving

every

minute.

The mother muddle



While it would be wonderful to have each day present itself as a perfect one, that’s just not reality.  No matter who you are or what you do.  Even the best laid plans often fall to ruins at our feet.  More days than I might care to admit, I don’t amaze myself at how nicely everything went and how well I did at my list of tasks.  Instead I see roadblocks and obstacles stacked up one after another and somehow we all still made it through the day

This week it was me, really super sick for the first time since Christmas.  So instead of diving into science and history in the calculated ways I’d planned, I let the kids catch bugs and line my kitchen counter with jars and bags of creatures.  Instead of cleaning my kitchen, I found myself laying on the couch waiting for my ear to explode while the kids watched their little insects, drew pictures of them and talked up a storm about bug life.

Instead of making it to appointments and playdates, the kids helped an extra lot around the house.  They emptied dishwasher loads, cleaned off eggs from the chickens, fed pets, cleaned up more than usual and served their sick mama who had spent the last two weeks caring for sick kids.

While we didn’t get to ‘science projects’ from our book, there are dissected bumble bees all over the counter right now.  There is a friendly caterpillar who’s become my 2 year olds’ best buddy in three days.

With me coaching from the couch how to make the mac and cheese that Kyler was determined to fix, he watched as the boiling water, noodles and cheese sauce made an overflowing, orange mess.   I rallied myself up and  smiled at him as I dumped it out and started another pot for him.  He got it all perfect the second time.  And he received grace and a second chance, which was (and is) precisely what his tender heart needs more times that I give it.

What I could have deemed a disaster but instead labeled a ‘field trip’ to the doctor’s office became an adventure.  The kids all squeezed into the little room and waited with me to have my ears checked for a half an hour.  They donned gloves and pretended to care for sick people.  They found the little doctor light and figured out how to raise and lower the table.  They delighted in every minute and I was too sick to argue.

The thing I’m just beginning to learn and appreciate is that in this ‘muddle-through’ way that we often make it through days raising little kids is that much of it is more beautiful than I realized.  And the plans that fall apart can, if I let them, lead to better things even more lovely than I expected.

Embracing the ways the days begin, unfold and finish is opening a door for me.  One to less disappointment and more joy.  If I could just keep going and walk on through, I’m quite certain we will all be better for it.

Prescription drug conspiracy

I realize conspiracy is a strong word.

But that’s the word I deemed appropriate last month when I filled several prescriptions as I fought a wicked bilateral kidney infection.

I am well aware that money drives the pharmaceutical industry in America and frankly that money drives most things in America.  But when the reality of it was staring me in the face I was mad.  Really, really mad.

My mom had sent me a Consumer Reports article last year about drug costs and the incredible mark ups.  I brushed it off, we hardly ever get prescriptions for anything.  I momentarily thought it unfair for the chronically ill and the aging population in our country and then forgot about it.

Fast forward to December when after an utterly incompetent doctor provided me with such inadequate care that I ended up in the ER in the wee hours of the morning and likely incurred notable damage to my kidneys (and a $2,000 ER bill despite having insurance!).

On the way to fill another round of antibiotics I remembered what I’d heard from my mom and other various places and had it called in to Costco instead.  This was the result:

7 days of generic CIPRO antibiotic from Walgreens $46

7 days of generic CIPRO antibiotic from Costco $6.50

How is that possible?  How could it vary that much? Don’t they care about the old people who need 10 different prescriptions daily to stay alive and live on small, fixed incomes?

Because prescriptions are the prime money maker for Walgreens, Bartells, Rite Aid and the like.  Everything else is fairly superfluous.  Costco has taken heat for their low prices and their unwillingness to stick it to the American drug consumers.  And because when you don’t feel good, going to Costco to get drugs is less appealing than the pharmacy on the corner in your neighborhood.

As if I didn’t love Costco enough already with their giant carts and humongous packs of toilet paper.

I know that there is so much more to this issue but just thought it might be helpful to pass on!