From the learning rooms...

“If a child is to keep alive his inborn sense of wonder, he needs the companionship of at least one adult who can share it, rediscovering with him the joy,

excitement and mystery of the world we live in.”

~ Rachel Carson

This homeschooling thing that we do continues to be a work in progress, despite the fact that we have never not done it.  As I've alluded to in previous posts however (see here and here), I still struggle with how to define how we do things.  I'm not sure why I have this need to put a label on our style.  

I guess it helps to have a nice, compact answer to give when questioned by the cashier at Hobby Lobby as to why my kids are accompanying me in the middle of the day.  

The honest answer would really be that I hadn't given it a moment's thought that it was 1:00 and why wouldn't I have my kids with me?  They are pretty much always with me because we are busy living life whether it be at home learning about line graphs or waiting in line somewhere and talking about what patience actually looks like or studying a mural at the Capitol building because that is one of our favorite places in this town or walking our dog around the lake or...

But people don't want to hear that. 

That doesn't fit in with their understanding of school aged children or how learning actually takes place and really, wouldn't I rather kiss my kids goodbye each morning, sigh a big sigh and enjoy that second cup of coffee

by.

my.

self?

And the honest answer to that question, even on my absolute worse days, is truly...

no.

Really.

Because, as another year unfolds and I watch my children grow into these new and interesting people who are absolutely fasincating, I'm desperately afraid that I will miss something.  I'm already painfully aware of the way time seems to gain speed the older I get. I don't want to hand over the amazing privilege of being the purveyor of precious time to someone else.  I think I will stay steadfastly stubborn on this one.

And so, in the interest of wasting any more moments of my "wild and precious life" I am going to stop trying to define our approach and, instead, try to refine my approach.   If it is true that my children need my companionship in order to keep their inborn sense of wonder alive, well then...I think I will focus on relationship. 

I will prioritize peace and patience over lesson plans and pages read. 

I will introduce skills and tools to be learned in a context that focuses on their helpfulness in the bigger world and in achieving personal goals as opposed to within an arbitrary scope and sequence outline that says kids of a certain age should be learning said skills and tools. 

I will stop spending so much time on the chair that is situated in front of the computer and more time on the cushion next to them, having conversations about anything and everything because all of it is important, for one reason or another.

I will listen to the millionth joke from Boys' Life magazine because  I realize that there are a lot of "th"s and "sh"s in them and that is something they need to practice.

I will sit next to them at the table while they do their math problems (one of the few "formal" things we do most days) because I understand that sometimes it just feels better to have someone close and when you feel better, you can think more clearly.

I will keep coming up with new desserts to eat while we drink our tea and hot chocolate and I will laugh out loud at the silly nonsense of Edward Lear.

And most of all, I will just breathe.

Because really, in the end, all we really need is

each

other.



Counting the Gifts {Multitudes on Mondays}

How beautifully leaves grow old. How full of light and color are their last days. ~John Burroughs

Ring the bells that still can ring

Forget your perfect offering.

There is a crack in everything,
That's how the light gets in.

~Leonard Cohen

We went hiking with some dear friends today...a true Indian Summer day.  We all walked with a kind of knowing...that this day was a precious gift of warmth and color and stillness. They say the wind is coming tomorrow and it will blow in change so today was an opportunity to just hang there in the balance. 

And in that magical place, where the light and colors danced and bobbed and sang, the gifts were obvious:

-the joy of friends with whom you can walk and talk and revel in all that is around you, all at the same time

-the lingering warmth of a full October sun that gently whispers, "remember me come January..."

-crunchy leaves and laughing voices

-an amazing creation that sings "Glory" at every turn.  Days like today leave me reeling in the richness of God's creativity and the unleashing of what can only be described as JOY on the day He set the world spinning

-sweet and gentle walkingsticks that scurry across arms and necks and faces and then, just as quickly, disappear among the cedars

-the way sunlight on the river can dance and play "like diamonds"

-the kind of weariness that comes from moving and playing and looking...really looking...and causes you to sink deep under the covers









Imperfect Prose { the swelling }

So, why is it that I am always taken by surprise each Autumn?
How can the amnesia be both faithful and fickle?

As the days shorten and the nights lengthen and the temperatures frolic up and down
like the whirling leaves they chase
something in me tightens.

I look around and I feel my heart filling
drinking deep every ounce of gold dappled magic,
soaking up patches of calico and wine and rust.

I am awed to be party to such splendor and
humbly
I receive it as a gift.
Everytime.

But then the memory of it
this cyclical dance of color and light and glory
begins to swell
and I remember

That the beauty and the depth and the becoming
have been there all along

Could it be with me also?
That if I attune my soul to the steady rhythm
and lay myself
bare
before the light
that something in me will
shift?

And that which parades in front of me
be it confidence
or
pride
or
ego
or
self satisfaction
or
swagger
will slowly
and faithfully
slip
from green to gold?

The Lustrous Ripple

I don't have many words today.  So much of what transpired today was felt so deeply and experienced so acutely that I find it difficult to attach sentiment to them in a manner that would do it any justice.  Today was one of those days in which one just simply lives, hoping that its beauty and aspect are hidden deep. 

Yes, it was that beautiful.

So, I will let the counting do the work, for it is the work that really matters anyway...

...light that filters through black walnut trees, dappling all beneath with gold dust
...the beauty of the heart-shaped leaves that first emerged from a sweet potato, long discarded and forgotten in the back of the dark potato bin and that now grow profusely, given rich soil and joyful adoration
...the swelling orb that is one of our Moon and Stars watermelons and the way that its celestial print splatters across its wide expanse
...and not too far from our Milky-Way-plucked melon lies our surprise squash--the one we didn't plant, at least not on purpose.  It sprang from the compost and has thrived, better than if we had planned it to be there.  And there are a lot of them...so fun
...the season's first asters, splitting apart from the green husks that they've been hiding in all summer.
...the reason for today's incredible beauty...strong winds from the North, ushering in change and some magic, I do believe...
...the zinnias and cosmos and salvia that line my front porch, faithfully blooming all the livelong summer and carrying our hearts over the long, thin line that leads to Autumn. 
...and did you see it?  Perched atop the shepherd's hook, to the right?  The hummingbird, resting for but a moment.  Glorious.
...the love of words, being restored yet again, by the pages of Jane Eyre.  "fount of fruition" and "borrowed beams from the lustrous ripple"...I can't take it in fast enough.
...the bed that awaits me, with blankets (yes, I said blankets!) turned down and the window lifted high, ushering in the cool of the evening, replete with chirps and night singing.

Imperfect Prose...a prayer for when there are no words

Sometimes, Lord,


there are no words adequate enough

nothing to capture the depth of my longing or the desperateness of my need

no human means to bridge the chasm between my reality and Your heart



In those moments, Lord

there are only groans, not unlike labor pains

sound pictures drawn by the Holy Spirit

spinning miracles of connection



Truly,

that is where I want to dwell

all of my days

in the hammock of hope that stretches between

all that I have

and

all that I wait for



Words will come

as will answers

but there is no need to wait for you

for You have already come



Praise be to God.

 

 

When it's time to end

It seems like a mere blink ago that we were receiving these little ones into our hearts and home.  Oh, the anticipation...the excitement...the wonder and adoration when they finally arrived...

Acquiring chicks felt like we were finally, really living the "country life."  Silly to think, now, with the rise of urban chicken husbandry but, in our minds, chickens would fill out the picture of simpler living for us. 

Three years later, I don't know that I would say it was simple, but it has certainly filled out our lives.

We were complete newbies at this but we threw ourselves into the effort.  How difficult could it really be?

We managed to keep those little chicks alive, build them a coop (with almost 100% re-purposed wood), introduce them to our yard (and many neighbors' yards, as well), and to love on them daily.

In return, they provided us with beauty...

entertainment...

meat...

and, always, eggs...

Remember that I said we were newbies to this?  Well, the deep swoop of our learning curve has leveled out now and we have closed the first chapter of our "Chicken Experience."  Due to some ignorance, a misguided trust of dogs, the failure to ever electrify our ELECTRIC fence and several forgetful nights where we failed to close up the chicken coop, well...  we managed to whittle down our flock of 34 laying hens to one single, fluffy white, faithful, egg laying hen.  We have decided to give her to a neighbor with more chickens so that she doesn't have to be alone.  I won't pontificate on how I feel about how we got to this point.  I'll just say that I wish we had landed here by way of a different path.  But I will say this.

It has been a joy.

I highly recommend keeping chickens.  Always.

Yes, it's inconvenient when you go out of town and have to secure chicken-sitters. 

Yes, if left completely unattended, they will get in your flower beds and garden.

Yes, they can be stupid and dim witted at times (but who among us has not been described as such at some point?)

But they are also
easily contented,
make wonderful cooing sounds,
produce a miracle of nature EVERY DAY, no questions asked,
love "treats" like broccoli stems and bread crusts,
annihilate a tick population unlike anything I've ever seen,
and, if you're lucky enough to scoop one up and cuddle with it, they are like a little heater, purring under the grasp of your encircling arms, trusting you completely.

It will be strange not to see them out there in the yard.

But I tell you what, come Spring, we'll be pouring over the Hatchery catalog, sizing up the colors and attributes of every chick imaginable... because

"Hope" is the thing with feathers—

That perches in the soul—

And sings the tune without the words—

And never stops—at all—

Emily Dickinson



and so I count
 
--the zillions of hummingbirds, each vying for one of the feeders on our front porch as they tank up for their thousand mile journey
--the quiet of the morning when I stumble out the door to walk the dog and am bestowed with the gift of golden-laced clouds playing hide and seek with the sun
--pulling weeds..hard, back breaking work that is so very satisfying to my need for neat and tidy edges
--warm apple fritters that make boys giggle with glee
--the anticipation of friends gathering tomorrow for new adventures
--the strength and trust of a dear friend, facing major surgery with grace and peace
--the joy of another friend as she plans her small wedding ceremony and the fact that I am included among the small circle of friends and family blessed to be invited
--the promise of long needed answers to closely kept questions, despite how it might affect the future
--the abundance of food from the garden that simply must be shared
--the opportunity to serve from a place of strength and knowing that such a reality is only because of the ever flowing amount of grace of God...
 

{this moment}

{this moment}
A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
-inspired by SouleMama