Love Louder Than The Silence

I'm not sure how to start this post, nor if I even should.  Sometimes feelings and events that are hidden and should stay there and sometimes they should be brought back into the light.  I'm not sure if this one should be brought to light, but something inside me says it's time.  This will be a hard one to write.  It's been hard enough deciding to and then finding the opportunity to do so when proper emotions may flow without question or reign.

Why do I have to reign in my emotions?  Because I come from a stock of women who don't indulge in such things.  Let's be honest, every woman on this earth has something she has to deal with.  Some dark torment, whether self-inflicted or not, that she has to stare down every single moment she's breathing.  So why should I bemoan an act of our sovereign God that I had no control over?  Because I'm human and I feel pain too.

Recently a group of friends and family spanning several states took part in a remembrance day for a little girl that was stillborn.  The remembrance day was her first birthday.  This little girl's parents had prepared everything for her.  Their hearts and their lives exploded with anticipation and love while they prayed over her.  There is never enough time when you have to let go of someone.  They still feel her, hear her, love her.

While remembering her, I also remembered my niece who was stillborn as well, then an uncle, a brother, and so the train of thought went.  It went on until I thought of mine.  No, this one wasn't stillborn.  This one was a miscarriage, but what difference does the terminology make?  Apparently it's quite a big difference.  You see, where I come from, no one is given time grieve a miscarriage.  In this case size does matter.  A stillborn child or a child that dies after birth is given more weight.  Families are given more time to grieve.  Yes, there is a time limit on grief. (sarcasm there)  The older the child, the worse your grief must be, right?  My apologies for being grumpy, but in my defense, I have held this in for sixteen years. 

You can stop now if you like.  Most people don't like this kind of subject.  It makes them squirm a little.  They don't know what to say or how to act and sometimes they say some S-T-U-P-I-D stuff.  I could have a whole different post filled with the ignorant things people said to me.  Which is precisely the reason I was quick to cover my emotions, not to let anyone see.  I'm embarrassed to say I even lied at times, telling people I was mistaken.  I even hid my emotions from the one person I shouldn't have.  He was hurting too.  I just didn't want him to hurt anymore.  So many years of trying only to disappoint him over and over.  After watching this couple I'm pretty sure it was a mistake.  But a real woman, "Puts on her big girl panties and deals with it."  I did, still do. 

It took me a while to get used to this idea of openly grieving a child that has never taken an earthly breath.  I have learned quite a bit from this couple.  They speak their little girl's name openly.  This has caught me off guard so many times.  Their situation is different.  They felt their baby move, I never did.  But we waited for so long to see that other line on the stick.  I called grandparents, siblings, and cousins.  I started buying clothes and hunting down a crib.  By the time I made it in for my first doctors appointment the ending had already begun. 

My father-in-law was terminally ill and it would have meant so much to him.  I know this because he told me every single day.  I would laugh and tell him it wasn't for lack of effort.  It's pretty bizarre getting fertility tips from your husband's dad.  My mother-in-law wisely waited to tell him.  As far as he ever knew there was no baby or what I named him.  I knew what gender my other two children would be long before any ultrasound told me.  It was the same for the little life that left so early; not even old enough to feel the quickening.  I wonder what things he would have enjoyed?  Fixing things like his brother or books like his sister, or both?  I know he would have made a handsome, intelligent, wide-eyed young man.  He would have had many great adventures with his big brother and his little sister.  As I lit a candle for her, into the emptiness that surrounded me, I finally spoke his name.

Grief has no time or size limits but life must continue, so let Love speak louder than the silence.
6/14/2014

A Million Years

 

6/9/2014
It amazes me how my "friendships" have changed since we embarked on the homeschool journey.  Never in a million years did I think that certain people would belittle us for it.  Never in a million years did I think that fellow believers in Christ would have harsh things to say to me. To be snubbed and over hear slanderous things.  Never in a million years did I think I would be slandered and thrown into the same category as a child abuser.  We've been scrutinized by what family still speaks to us.  We've been mocked by peers.  And now we're being pursued by officials.  Why?  Because we chose something different.

 We chose to take responsibility for our remaining child to the fullest extent after our first completed the senior year.  The responsibility that all who work in public scholarly and cultural institutions repine about, whining that they can't do it all and it's the parents obligation.  Society touts, through various media outlets, demands that inattentive progenitors deal with their responsibilities.  Acting like we're "the baby daddy," Expecting us to finance everything and carry the blame for their problems;  but they get to impart their ideals and philosophies while questioning ours, then reaping the all the credit when something goes right.  And now we get chastised, legislated against, and (at times) jailed for giving them what they cried for?

Complete control without any accountability or consequences is what they want.  Yes, it really is.  My eyes were slowly opened while I worked in the system that was founded on Socialistic principles.  It's taken generations, but it's more evident that ever where and what this system wants our children to be.  All religions accept the State approved religion have been removed, it is permissible to assign the reading of a fictional book that contains graphic depictions of brutal sexual intercourse, various birth control methods are distributed to the youngest of junior high students, access to abortions, search and seizures are carried out, along with questionnaires about care giver's habits, and psychological evaluations are conducted.  ALL are often done without parental knowledge or consent.  Many times care givers are not given the opportunity to have their student opt out of these assignments or programs.  On top of it all, history books are filled with lies and other curricula are watered down.  Minds are being trained to test, not think for themselves.  Complete control without accountability.  Obedience without question...makes me think of the lines I've seen on Hitler's youth propaganda posters...  Shudder.  Their changes didn't happen over night either.

In the early days many did sound warnings, and to no avail, did so for years.  Then the machine grew too big for a handful to push back.  Let's not forget the nice pension that they receive as well.  Then there are those like me.  We're the ones that have stepped out of the machine.  Unfortunately, we still have to keep up with it and we are encouraging those still in it to push back. 

In the mean time, we are taking back our authority.  We are taking it back in our home, our community, and our legislation.  We are taking it back AND exercising it!  We are choosing what books are read, we are choosing how and when to discuss sexual reproduction.  We not only instruct our pupils in the art of good stewardship and proper citizenry, but WHY they need to engage themselves in it.  We are tailoring the education to our student's individual interests and needs; not tailoring the student to tests.  We are imparting our individual family's morals and values, not those of the State. 

Recruitment poster for the Hitler Youth/League of German Girls (ca. 1940)

Translation:

 

Young People Serving the Führer

All 10-Year-Olds Join the Hitler Youth

 

Image taken from:   http://greyfalcon.us/The%20Good%20Society.htm

Blue Fingertips Fly

Blue Fingertips Fly

click, click, clickity-click   Is the sound that fills my living room right now.  Watching blue painted fingernails feverishly dance across a keyboard with hurried precision, being mocked by an imagination that moves twice as fast.  I cannot see the eyes of this imagination, for they are under the brim of a sparkly black and sliver hat.  One given by a friend greatly missed.  The sported pig-tails are quite deceptive, but also forever revealing.  Blue painted toe nails curl as the concentration intensifies.  I know these breaths, sighs, clickity-clicks, all sounds of birthing a story.  Not one assigned by a human task master, one assigned by thoughts that have grown too large to hold inside.  One that must be waited for by those who pace in anticipation.  The rocking has begun.  The soothing motion of deep thoughts.  Breaths grow deeper, slowing down, a momentary stare into nothingness.  Sitting back, surveying the count of words.  Scrutinizing, grumbling, sitting forward as the blue fingertips fly.  6/6/2014

Rush & Struggle & Guilt, OH MY!

June 6, 2014

It seems today has been a "do nothing day."  Although it really hasn't been.  Sometimes when we are working on one group of things it feels like NOTHING is getting accomplished.  This is probably because I am married to a visual person and have adapted my life accordingly.  School has happened, even though the student hasn't felt all that great.  I know the hubby will understand but I still feel that pressure.  All moms feel it from one time to another.  I was raised with images of June Cleaver (oops! giving away my age there) having dinner on the stove and a martini (iced tea in our case) in hand when the conquering hero returns.  Oh, but wait!  She didn't home school!

I have not always been a stay-home mom.  I still vividly remember the rush to the store, rush home, rush to get dinner done (or pick up take out), the rush through homework, the rush to clean up, then the rush to clean them up.  Saturdays spent catching up on heavy cleaning, laundry, yard work, and repair lists.  Sundays, struggle to get up, struggle to be there on time, struggle to focus on worship and sermon, struggle with the guilt of neglecting Him.

When we decided to school at home I was still in that mindset.  Rush & Struggle & Guilt, OH MY!  You'd think I would have shaken all that off.  Somehow I have to redefine who/what I am.  Um...yes I'm a little slow in this department.  I was raised by a working mom, and that's all I know.  So I look around me for examples.  Ann Voskamp, Michelle Duggar, and a host of ladies around me.  Very dizzying!  I feel like Goldilocks.  This one's too harsh, this one's too soft, where's the just right?  I'm still looking for it, but at least I know Christ the teacher is a sure bet.  As I make lesson plans, look at my undecorated house, and uncooperative teen; I know I am not alone in this.  So I'll save my measuring stick for crafts and get myself back to work. 

One benefit of home schooling is that we can change things around as needed.  Today we immersed ourselves in Macbeth because the student doesn't feel well.  Still learning, right?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uxGnGrtfzoU

Feel free to suggest a better version.  I chose this one for my Tolkienite.

Snowflakes

"The snowflake is one of the many reasons why I believe in the creator. There's just no amount of convincing that'll ever make me believe this just happens so perfectly by the chaos effect." ~Travis Huffman

Mr. Huffman is the parent of a former student.  One of those parents who doesn't mind me keeping up with his child through social media.  This kid was a bright eyed ball of nerdy energy.  The perfect combination for lots of exasperation and LOADS of fun.  Someone I could always count on for a hug.  I still miss that little guy and all his compadres.  (That's what he called his friends.)  Ok, back to the snowflakes.

 I found it to pretty much sum up my feelings on the delicate, intricate, and divinely designed jewels of winter.  Each one unique, each one sparkling with the light of hope and wonder.  Much like we're supposed to be.  I don't have any profound thoughts or observations about them.  I think I'll use various images from the internet and let God show his artisanship along with some nerdy info: 

Amazingly, snowflakes always have six sides and similar to the human fingerprint, no two snowflakes are ever exactly the same. Both the form and shape of a snowflake depends on the temperature and moisture content of the cloud. Snowflakes can be categorized into six main types, plate (flat), column, stars, dendrite (lacy, needle, and capped column. When it is extremely cold the snow is very fine and powdery and snowflakes become quite simple in design, usually needle or rod shaped. When the temperature is near to freezing point (0 degrees Celsius), snowflakes become much larger and a lot more complex in design. (I can't remember where this info. came from.)

 

The Fun Times Guide.com says: 

Snowflakes are really ice crystals that are formed in the clouds by water vapor.
When the atmosphere’s temperature dips to below 32 degrees Fahrenheit, moisture changes to ice.
Snowflake formation is affected by a variety of factors including air currents, humidity and temperature.  Particles of dirt that were trapped in the water vapor affects the weight and durability of the ice crystals.  Because of these extenuating factors, no two snowflakes are exactly alike — though there is no scientific reason that prevents it. Snowflakes may look the same but will not have the same number of water molecules or the exact amount of oxygen and hydrogen.


 Here's a fun site for more information on types of snowflakes:  http://www.its.caltech.edu/~atomic/snowcrystals/class/class.htm
(Nerdy enough for you?)

 

 Wilson Bently captured 5,000 snowflakes and finding no two identical. After that he wanted the world to know just how unique snowflakes were.  He wrote over 60 articles and books and was eventually dubbed The Snowflake Man.  Here is a link to the official site on him:  http://snowflakebentley.com/index.htm  I encourage you to visit.



 



 

 Scientists study snowflakes by spreading a chemical compound over a glass plate and waiting until a snowflake lands there. The compound immediately covers the snowflake and hardens. When the snowflake melts, it leaves behind a plastic case that shows its exact structure!

 

The largest snowflake recorded in the Guinness Book of World Records fell at Fort Keogh, Montana and was 15 inches wide and 8 inches thick.  When combined, windblown snow and black dirt make what is called snirt. A snow storm becomes a blizzard when visibility is under 1/4 mile and the storm continues for more than 3 hours with winds of 35 mph.  Stampede Pass, Washington averages 430 inches of snow per year. No wonder it’s known as the snow capital of the United States!



 

I have observed real snowflakes only twice in my long years.  They just don't happen often in my warm climate.  I will be forever in awe of their fleeting beauty and His eternal wonder.

 



Mr. Quack

Today has been difficult for me.  I have really had to work hard not to let on that my heart is grieving.  There have been some pretty rough moments.  With that said, there have also been some that soothe a bit.  Some cute pictures of the grand-dog begging for a tid-bit of turkey, a couple of other silly texts from them, and learning how to cook a duck.

 Both of the people I share this home with agreed that cooking the six pound duck would be more sensible than a twenty pound turkey.  I wish you could have seen the goofy grins on her and her Poppa's faces as they walked up to me in the grocery store.  Beaming as if they had just returned from an all day hunt with a fresh kill.  After eating it they decided it should be the new tradition. 

I have really struggled with the concept of traditions.  Any holiday is steeped in them.  As a new Christian I had to examine every tradition I held dear.  I still do from time to time.  So many little traditions I used to relish in have fallen by the wayside leaving little to anticipate or prepare for.  Sometimes it's real easy to forget who I stand for and find myself coveting what other families are doing.  (Time to clean my glasses again.) 

 So, that is why starting new traditions has become a big deal to me lately.  I want her to look back on her time here with us and smile.  I want her to recant stories of the first duck we cooked.  How we had absolutely no idea what we were doing.    That we giggled and made it dance like a puppet.  That as she rubbed the salt and spices on it she said in a silly voice, "We have to give Mr. Quack a massage before he goes into the sauna."  How she laughed at me for trussing the legs with a little bow.  That it smoked the entire house up while mom showed her how to make "real" mashed potatoes. 

I know to the rest of the world this is all melodrama and silliness.  But for we three, it is a fight to keep life going.  To keep our eyes on Him.  To keep our little world turning.  As for me, to keep the holiday hurt at bay. 11/24/13

It's no culinary masterpiece, but it was pretty good!

Autocorrect

So I've spent the last few days bumbling around the house while someone does schoolwork so it doesn't look like I'm hovering.  I constantly check her work for errors.  I constantly remind her to take more time organizing her thoughts and checking back over her work before it is turned in.  There are days that I feel like a recording stuck in a loop. 

Tonight I realized that I haven't put an entry in here for a while.  I looked back through the old posts only to realize that there are so many errors.  I stop and think about what I need to fix, that I need to revisit some grammar rules, that I simply need to take more time organizing my thoughts.

I wonder if that is how God feels about us?  Does he hover over us while we work?  Does he shake his head reminding us to take more time organizing?  I think he does.  We rush our decisions, work, conversations.  For what?  Like the children, we rush so we can go play with whatever distractions we choose to surround ourselves with.  Real relationships are not built, the Gospel is not shared, and we've not done much to glorify him.  My finite cartoony brain imagines him getting impatient and feeling like his message is stuck on a loop because we simply don't listen.  I picture him sitting on his throne arms waving as he yells at us, much like my husband does the quarterback during a football game. (told you I think cartoony)

Yep, we don't listen.  We want to rush things, people, him.  Then when things go wrong we look back on our work only to realize all of the mistakes in it.  We look toward our Creator/teacher to give us a break.  We make excuses, we try to reason things out hoping he will just "autocorrect" where we've messed up. Ultimately we give in to our dependence on his grace.  We consult His Word, own up to our mistakes.  We learn to take the necessary time to plan our words, our time, our actions, and use the correction fluid of apologies when necessary.

Our life is not a rough draft where errors can be corrected before it is turned in.  Mistakes are inevitable because we are chronic sinners.  I challenge myself, and you, to spend more time reading His Word and less time asking for him for an autocorrect.
11/21/2013