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January 8 - 14, 2017
He is artistic and creative and good at math. He is a noticer of aesthetics and a keeper of traditions. He asks good questions and he's a really fast runner. This year he has loved and served his grandparents with so much joy, and that's one of the many things that make us proud of the man he's becoming. 14.
It was just the little boys and me at home last night. The big kids were at youth group and Jimmy was at a session meeting. They played happily and they got themselves ready for bed when asked. We read books together and laughed at the silliness of three little kittens losing their mittens and being denied pie (especially since just this week I required three certain little boys to cough up some Christmas money to replace all of the gloves that have disappeared since I bought them very recently). We even turned getting into bed into a game of Mother May I. It was a bedtime that caused me to leave their room at the end of a long day feeling like a good mother. I trust every parent will give that rare win the respect and awe it deserves.
So I might have cursed a little in my heart when I heard the sound of pain and anguish screaming down the stairs just three short minutes later. I met Eli in the hallway and he was clutching his arm with tears streaming down his face. There was a full-mouth bite mark, complete with dripping saliva, on his little arm, and Jack was standing silently at the top of the stairs. I sent him directly to my room while I dried Eli's arm and gave him my first sympathy and attention. Then I left him to wait for the coming apology and turned my attention to Jack.
"So. What happened in there?", I asked him. He began with, "Well, Eli...", and I quickly reminded him that I didn't want to hear what Eli had done, but rather what he was responsible for, to which he replied, "I know. I was going to say that Eli did nothing." Well. That's a refreshing turn... He went on to say that he had asked Eli to get up and get the water glass for him and Eli "did not obey". So he got up and bit him. I asked him if he was proud of it and he said that he wasn't. We talked about what a big deal it was that he was taking such quick responsibility for his choice, and then he humbly accepted his consequence. It was all pretty ideal as far as discipline situations go, especially when you consider that it was 9pm and I'd already used up all of my best mothering.
I was surprised when he said he wasn't ready to ask for Eli's forgiveness, so rather than sending them up to bed with that tension lingering between them, I sent Jack up to bed alone and tucked Eli into our bed. I have a dear friend who has logged a lot more hours of parenting than I have, and she's told me for years that giving her children space to work their own hearts out with the Holy Spirit was the best thing she wished she'd done more of. When I'm mothering from a place of trust and not fear, I take that advice and it's always proven to be the better way. This time was no exception.
Five minutes later, I was at the kitchen sink when I heard sniffling behind me. I turned to find my sweet Jack with his shoulders slumped, head down, and tears in his eyes. When I got down and hugged him, he whispered in a tiny little voice, "I'm a bully." Of course, my own tears joined his at that precious moment of self-awareness. I got to agree with him that, yes, he had acted like a bully, and that apart from Jesus he would be a man who was a prisoner to his own desires. But! Because he has a heart that has trusted and believed that Jesus paid for those sins, and because he has the Holy Spirit living in him, that choice to bully his brother doesn't define him or have a hold on him. I reminded him that he's a new creature who wears the work of Jesus on himself, and that's what God sees when he looks at him. He said he wanted to go ask Eli for his forgiveness, but when we went into my room we found him soundly sleeping. I wasn't willing to waste the tenderness of this moment, so I told Jack to wake him up. Bleary-eyed and a little dazed, Eli forgave him immediately, hugged him fiercely, and then left the sacred and much-coveted spot in our bed to run upstairs and snuggle his brother. They left me behind, stunned and grateful (and a little teary), without a care.
January 1 - 7, 2017
“And that is enough to raise our thoughts to what may happen when the redeemed soul, beyond all hope and nearly beyond belief, learns at last that she has pleased Him whom she was created to please. There will be no room for vanity then, She will be free from the miserable illusion that it was her doing.”
laundry love | beggar | snuggles
SNOW!
Our first educational philosophy book was purchased at the Westminster Seminary bookstore in California where a friend of ours was shopkeeper. It was The Well-Trained Mind, by Susan Wise Bauer, and I was convinced. And also a bit over-eager to get my hands on some precious little students.
Fortunately for Travis he was as eager as I was, so the fact that we gave him a phonics program for his fourth Christmas didn't leave a lasting scar. I didn't know to be afraid of teaching people to read, which would come in handy since there would be five more students to come after him (and ten consecutive years of blending letter sounds together and waiting for that first little spark of understanding to flash in their eyes).
In our eleven years of homeschooling, my thoughts and philosophies have grown and changed through my own education and the on-the-ground realities that have defined our days. We’ve gone from our “Circle Time” days, where most of my students were in diapers and school was finished in an hour, to our present bursting-at-the-seams days full of math blocks, cursive copywork, Anatomy and Physiology, and Geometry. The workload is so much heavier and our days are longer.
Where I used to be full of confidence and determination, I am now so much more aware of my frailty and inadequacy. Back then math and reading skills took priority in our day, whereas now I understand that they are only a small part of what makes a person truly educated. Then I was certain that with the right curriculum and a well-honed chore chart, we were sure to turn out brilliantly capable adults, and now I understand that our sweetest lessons often come in the form of a day busted by bad attitudes and redeemed with humble apologies (and then some hot chocolate and a good book).
My confidence was in myself and my ability to perform, and I’ve entered this second decade of educating our children with a good and healthy dose of humility. And not because they’re proving to be less than brilliant and capable! It’s the opposite, really. They amaze me every day with their insight and growing wisdom and the development of their natural talents that they’ve been given by God. I look at them and who they are becoming and I know that this is the work of the Holy Spirit in them in spite of my enormous shortcomings and not because of my tiny successes.
When my friend Jane proposed the idea of coming to document a typical homeschool day my eyes filled with tears as I realized that even though we’ve grown up so much and have adapted to so many changes in our school, the biggest ones are just on the horizon. That first little eager reader will soon finish his time here, and even now has entered into a season of venturing out. Already Travis and Sam are gone for two full days a week, and next year will likely bring even more schedule changes and demands. The years of all of my students under one roof are already beginning to fade away, and once they start they will go so fast. I can’t put into words how ridiculously hard this task is and how often I feel like I’m failing everyone involved, and yet at the same time how gloriously beautiful it is and how incredibly grateful I am that I get to spend these years of my life like this. I know for certain that I am learning far more from these precious people than I could ever teach them.
Today all six of my children know how to read, and I’ll always consider that one of the greatest achievements of my life.
all photography by Jane Howard Photography
She's sassy enough to keep her five brothers in their place, and sweet enough to be a consistent favorite among every baby she knows (and their mommies). She's the most extroverted person in our family. She's thoughtful and kind, capable and so very willing. She's still the very best Christmas gift we ever got. Twelve.
He's a fun friend, a diligent worker, and a wise leader. He's a son who honors his parents, a dad who loves and protects and guides his children, and an incredibly patient husband. He's the most generous person I know. Forty.
days 357 - 366
waiting | top-bunk reading | birthday golf
pals | bright Christmas | twelve
he's still got it | birthday buddies
"I have to stay in my chair so he sees me right when he walks in. Otherwise he'll know something's up."
~ Nana, after being told to join the crowd in the dining room to surprise Jimmy
days 350 - 356
40!
KY Christmas nap | ladies birthday tea
freedom from bondage
"Long lay the world in sin and error pining, till he appeared and the soul felt its worth. A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices. For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn!"
~ O, Holy Night
days 343 - 349
cookies | bird watching | advent
Silent Night | small-town Christmas parade | Grandpa's Christmas wish
Mud Dabbers
"O Lord of life, our only hope
Your radiance shines
On all who look -- to You in the dark
Emmanuel come, come light our hearts."
~ Sandra McCracken
days 336 - 342
"What does "RHB" stand for? And who's his longsuffering wife?"
~ Grandpa, on repeat; upon sitting at the end of the table where Ron wrote that he was thankful for his wife.
days 329 - 335
he wordlessly tips his mug in my direction as soon as it's empty
"I'm never doing the monkey bars again. At least until my arm is healed."
autumn sky | wakeful lions | muscles
football | sweet faces around our Thanksgiving table
days 322 - 328
Wildcat Branch Falls, Cleveland, SC
breakfast
