A Quiet Place of Retreat

Every morning the alarm goes off and I jump out of bed. OK, well actually the alarm only goes off some mornings ... and usually I jump out of bed so I can cross the room to hit the snooze button ... but eventually my days starts like it does for many people around me. I rush into the day trying to put together my mental checklist. I make breakfast, pack lunches, get boys up and going, and start the tasks of the day. I navigate my checklist, trying to weave through the chaos of living in an unkempt house, filled with loud, noisy children, and secured by a pile of bills yet to be paid ... all of these things demanding my time, my attention, my money, my sanity. The breakneck pace of the simple world I have chosen to live in makes me wonder how I would cope with a world that is more complex--be it working outside my home, rushing kids around to multiple schools and activities, or even just trying to please a husband. I have searched for years for a way to calm the clamor and conquer the chaos, trying lists and accountability partners and rewards only to discover again and again the only thing that can bring me peace.

I'm not a morning person, so the momentum of propelling myself into immediate activity first thing in the morning often seems like the intuitive way to keep myself awake, not to mention to actually accomplish something before noon. Yet the only way that I reach the end of the day feeling satisfied with what I have (or haven't) done is when I spend time at the beginning and throughout the day looking, listening, waiting, being still, and remembering to let myself be led by the One who made me for a purpose and who knows how today can bring me closer to fulfilling that purpose.

Being still ... waiting ... listening .... All are very hard activities to learn to do well in our culture. With all our modern conveniences to do survival work for us, we continue to overload ourselves with more tasks and call them necessary. We drown out the cries of our own souls with images and noise and imitation relationships until silence and stillness seem wasteful, dull, and tedious. We exhaust ourselves to the point that if we aren't doing something we can't keep our eyes opened or our minds engaged. And by we ... I mean me.

One of the things I love about new beginnings ... about the new opportunities afforded in recurring routines ... is that I am reminded again and again to return to what is essential. Not what I think is necessary, but what my very soul needs. Once again, I'm reminded of how badly I need quiet time in the morning to read from ancient pages about the One who has brought me this far. Once again I draw close to His heart to pour out to Him my concerns, to ask Him for help, to share with Him the my delights. As I try to do this in chaos I remember, again, that I need a place to retreat to His arms, so one more time I clean out a bag ... a corner ... a closet to set aside as my personal Holy of Holies where I can worship Him.

My house is still in chaos. My schedule packed with more things to do than there are hours in the day. Even my room is a disaster, but this morning, I retreat to the lovely prayer closet I have restored and sanctified for the purpose of worshiping the Lover of My Soul. It is a place of beauty ... of simplicity ... a place of escape into what is eternal from that which will continue to change until it ceases. This is my response to needing the SHELTER of prayer. This is my retreat.

Where the Boys Are

Ahh, in working with Jr. High girls, I remember this song of my youth . . . how embarrassing! How I wasted so much time then!

Now of course it means something totally different. I realized as I was looking over my blogging that I haven't mentioned the boys of late. Since supposedly this whole blog is mostly about living with boys, here is an update:

Josh: has been faithfully and dilligently working through his first year of school away from home--at private Christian school. The homework load has been much less than I expected. I have discovered in him a very anti-establishment attitude. He questions every rule, every reprimand, every math fact, every instruction . . . the boys wants to know WHY!!! The hormones are a-raging, and he is mad all the time no matter what I do. I of course don't dare acknowledge that I belong to him in public . . . on penalty of death, I think. However he is making great grades, is working exceptionally hard (both at our after-school job where he helps me clean, and at home when I ask him to do some chore), is communicating with words his constant frustrations and irritations, and assures me that he still loves me (although sometimes I have to remind him I'm a girl and that I need to hear him say it). He's a great kid, and someone I truly respect and admire, although I'm a little concerned about a "crisis of faith" that he's battling right now as he searches for his own identity.

Stephen: Still very much the happy-go-lucky boy, just in a rapidly growing and always eating body. Stephen never finishes his schoolwork, but always seems to know more than me. He is still very sensitive, but as the pre-teen hormones are starting to stir, I see it emerge more as anger now than as tears (although sometimes the two appear together). Stephen's highly creative streak bounces from one interest to another: at the beginning of the schoolyear he was hard into stop-motion animation and computers, and now is drawing and sketching everything. Stephen's biggest challenge this year has been working via Florida Virtual School, which violates his free, impulsive, unconstrained approach to work. Nevertheless, he also is proving he is capable of doing "classroom" work, and is showing signs of improvement both in his computer skills and his art (the two classes he is taking are 2D Art and Keyboarding). Stephen's heart is still very tender to the Lord, and to those in need around him.

Andrew: AJ has been full of surprises this year. He was having great difficulty reading at the beginning of the schoolyear, but has made leaps and bounds in the last couple of months. Suddenly words are popping out all over the place, and when they do AJ tries to read them! School efforts are moving along now at a nice clip, so much so that he and I have started reading and studying anything we can get our hands on about the Colonial and Revolutionary period of American history. It has been fun seeing what he is learning once again beginning to take over his imagination. Andrew's latest endeavors have been book-writing. He starts many, though rarely makes it to the finish. However he writes and draws all day, intermitten with fighting imaginary enemies (and a couple real brothers) outside whenever possible. I love Andrew's energy, as well as his delight in snuggling and being with me. Maybe I baby him a little, but I figure that's OK. He does NOT get away with everything!

Having essentially three different ages and stages has kept me awfully busy. I'm trying to balance youth group, scouting on two levels, friend get-togethers (not playdates anymore!), this school event and that one, etc. I spend much of my life in the car. Fortunately I have kept their outside committments few, and they usually share events (like the older two both do youth group, the younger two are both in homeschool support group together and have scouting back-to-back at the same location). And after much prayer and discussion with Josh, it looks like we will probably all be home again next year for school. (Not so sure if that's a light at the end of the tunnel, or just the headlight of a train!)

Just so I'm clear, if you've placed a call and asked me for something, or if you want to catch up over coffee . . . we can schedule something . . . in about ten years!!!!

A Different Kind of Year

School is starting again. In some ways it is like most other years, or at least the last few years. I'm not completely ready to begin. The boys are excited about the first day, but eager to shed that excitement since they know that work and routine follow it. The major difference this year is that Josh is going to school. Not doing school, but going--to the private school our church runs.

I had already planned out in my head most of what I wanted him to do this year, but after he was in the play, he started asking about maybe going to school there. Oddly, it didn't even make me flinch. I know so many of the teachers there, and am involved in the school even though I don't have kids attending. I told Josh he needed to make a firm decision, and that we would begin the process, trusting that God would make clear to us what He wanted for Josh.

At the time we applied, there wasn't even an opening in the 8th grade class. I assumed we had our answer, even though in the back of my mind I knew God could easily still indicate differently. But part way through summer, I got a call saying they had decided to open another class. I quickly scrambled to get some financial records completed, meanwhile the administration was very gracious with me and understanding of my financial situation. (Summer was hard because I wasn't working one of my part-time jobs--a serious decrease in income!) One thing after another fell into place, and here we are, finishing the first week of school with Josh away during the day.

Emotionally I have had mixed feelings. It is still hard to school the younger two boys. Both are still easily distracted (AJ got distracted during reading lessons this morning by a hang nail on MY finger!), but we don't have Josh home to add to the confusion and busyness. I miss him terribly during the day, and miss knowing the details of his day, but there is a certain sense of relief that this year it is not my responsibility.

My goals this year are to really get things going and to help the boys find the environments that best suit their learning needs. I've always felt too pulled apart to work on that. I also must get AJ reading. He is having a terrible time, and I am fearful that someone will finally blame me (even though I know it is learning difficulties, and I am doing what my financial situation and resources will allow). I'm very slowly working on establishing a little more order in the house.

Josh isn't thrilled with attending school, but he likes it. He says it is still school. He likes the order and schedule, and being with his friends, of course. He likes the teachers he has. I think he's even going to like the classes, and I'm not expecting him to feel overwhelmed with the work load (although having to come home and do it after a whole day at school may be a bother).

Most of all, I feel like for this year, this is where God wants us. I'm pleased with it . . . a little anxious about the financial demands, but trusting God who has provided for us thus far.

Then again, we'll see in a month how at peace I am with 7am mornings and kids who won't get up!

Summer (Not So) Fun

OK. So here's what our summer has entailed so far:

To start off June we had a week off, then Andrew went back and forth to Cub Scout Day camp while the boys and I bounced between loafing and working around the house (although you can hardly tell now!). Then we had a wild and crazy week of Vacation Bible School, followed by a partial week of recovery (read: sleeping late and laying around). Then Andrew was off to visit with his Mimi and Pawpaw in St. Augustine, and the older boys headed off to Jr. High camp. Now we're recovering again, and next week will head off on vacation with the grandparents in metro-Atlanta. Then it's home for about two weeks before we start school again.

What is the purpose of summer again?

No More Schedules!

Every time I work up a schedule--even a loose one that's more like a "routine"--something goes wrong. Usually it's just a little something wrong, just wrong enough to be inconvenient and to prevent me from actually getting in the habit of keeping the schedule, like a stomach bug . . . or unexpected company . . . or three really good movies coming in the mail at the same time from Blockbuster. It's not usually something really horrible . . . until tonight. Today we started a new "routine." I can't even call it a schedule now, or my kids will groan. So we started a routine. We did pretty well at it . . . well, we were only about two and a half hours behind all day. But we had time to rest and read, and even made it to the shelter to see our new baby. We got most of our school done, and the house is in pretty decent order. So I felt good. Then tonight on the way to Scouts, it happened.

Pulling out of the driveway, the car was a little sluggish--not much acceleration. I've noticed it briefly the last couple times I drove, but it cleared up pretty quickly, so tonight I headed on to Scouts sure that I wasn't just going crazy, and making a mental note to push a visit to the mechanic up to the top of tomorrow's list. As I pulled out on the busy road intersecting our subdivision, I quickly realized that I should have made that note today. After 50 yards or so, I also realized we weren't going to make it to Scouts, and I pulled over to the side of the road.

I don't like car problems. Not that anyone does, but since I don't have a husband to call for help, it always makes me feel more overwhelmed to have to be the one to make the decisions about something I know so little about. I called several of the friends I usually call on to bail me out of trouble, but didnt' get anyone at home. Finally I called my best friend (by this time I was handling it all like a woman . . . yep. Crying.), who called a friend of her's close by to come help me. As I waited, an older gentleman stopped and "offered his assistance." (So glad there are still gentlemen in the world to offer assistance to dames in distress!) He began looking at the engine, and about the time he asked if I had gas in the car, another guy rode up on a bike.

I though about the question . . . um? Gas? I knew it needed to be filled soon, but I didn't think I was out. Then again, it had seemed that I'd been running on the same eighth of a tank for a while . . . . So these poor men went to get me some gas. I was left feeling very . . . blonde.

Finally there was definitely gas in the car, but still it would not start. (Relief! It wasn't about me forgetting the gas! Of course then it came to mind that the low-gas warning light never came on.) After discussing other possibilities, the guy from the bike finally decided it must be the fuel filter. So he pulled some big fat hose off something in the front of the engine (hey! Be glad I know he was working on the engine, and I'm not using words like do-hickey and thing-a-ma-jig.) Then he started pouring a little gas directly into the opening. As my brain was asking, "Isn't it a bad thing to pour gas onto a car engine?", my friend cranked the engine, and flames errupted.

It seemed like my engine was on fire forever, but I think the guy under the hood actually put it out pretty quickly, but I was seeing:
*my crazy kids trying to get a good look at the fire under my hood (as I waited for the car to explode!!!)
*the dropped bottle of gas on the curb on fire (and about to explode)
*me trying to explain to my insurance company how a $10 fuel filter caused a major explosion in my car
*my friend still sitting in my car (unaware of the engine on fire because of the hood being in his way!)
*the sane man moving back out of the way
*me standing there like a dork wondering why I didn't have a fire extinguisher in the back of the car
. . . . All of this was coming into my brain at once and I pretty much just didn't know what to do. At last the goofy guy with the water bottle of gas put out my car, and said, "Yep, it's the fuel filter." Ummm . . . do most mechanics set the car on fire to determine that?

Now I had come to the conclusion that it would be a good idea to just have the car towed, so I got on the phone with my wonderful insurance company to arrange for a tow truck. After being told three times that, yes, I still was on hold and there would be someone with me eventually (Hey, thanks. Good thing I'm not in real trouble!), I got someone on the phone.

Not long after that, one of our counties finest pulled up to "offer assistance." By this time the guy who tried to make my car explode had left (not that I blame him!), and I was kind of wondering where the deputy was when my car was on fire. (I'm thinking now that somebody called when they saw the flames leaping out of my car!!!) After the men with me explained the whole thing to him, he also agreed that it was probably the fuel filter, and suggested that we bang on the little gadget a few times to loosen some of the sediment. He said we wouldn't be able to drive far, but might get it to a nearby mechanic--and my mechanic was just around the corner, so it sounded great to me. So I asked the lady at the insurance company to hang on while I waited to see if I would indeed need the tow truck, and my friend banged on the filter, but when we tried to start the car, nothing.

As I got back to giving the insurance lady information so she could send help, the deputy suggested the men push the car up and off the road. My friend thought he'd give the key one more try, and wouldn't you know it? The car started. Once again I told the insurance lady we wouldn't be needing the tow truck, made hasty arrangements to get to the mechanic's shop, and loaded the kids in the car, and we took it where it needed to be dropped off.

So for now I know I need a new fuel filter, my car can still run (I think!), there are still gentlemen in the world, and you don't let somebody pour gas on your engine. I also know that I'm without a car, I desperately need groceries, and that schedules really don't work. So tomorrow we're going to fly by the seat of our pants again. At least that way we will expect not to know what the day will bring! And expecting surprised will probably be a good thing when I talk to the machanic.

A SuPrise Discovery

Almost as soon as my two youngest boys learned to walk, I discovered they also had a habit of sleep walking. Weird sleeping occurances have seemed to be our lot, at least while the boys were young. (Stephen's grown out of most of his. Andrew still does it occasionally.) Not that I'm complaining about that. Unexplained night terrors, sleep crying, and finding them roaming the house totally unaware of what they were doing happened occasionally, but not constantly. It has provided some very interesting and amusing conversations. Other than the night terrors, the only really disturbing thing about these weird half-asleep things has been finding them peeing, or about to pee in all kinds of strange places. I've found them missing the toilet (more than what is normal), peeing in the laundry room, even near the couch. Occasionally I caught it early enough to divert the culprit to the proper location. More often I had to clean up kid, floor, and any other soaked items. I always worried a little what would happen if I didn't catch them.

Now I know.

AJ has been complaining for days that his room smelled funny. I've been EXTREMELY busy this week, so I just kept making a mental note to check it out. Today he added that it smelled like pee. Uh oh. Well, only minutes ago I finally checked. I couldn't find ANYTHING to explain the weird, peelike smell. Until I removed a drawer (one of the plastic bin kinds), under which was a little puddle of still-wet pee. Don't know how many days it has been there. Can't figure out what else might have gotten hit. But I know now that I have to at least clean the drawers, the toys IN the drawers, and the carpet underneath and all around.

So, yes. I am complaining about that. I have to finish an album for someone this week. I have a display to do for our missions conference next week (which I just started). I discovered that the Sunday School class I thought I was teaching in April actually starts in two weeks. I have to clean house for small group tomorrow night. I am about three weeks behind in school records and desperately need to do some planning. AND to make matters just a little more complicated, I have a pinched sciatic nerve which is killing me (went to the chiropractor yesterday, but that's not a quick, easy fix).

So I'm just a tad busy. Guess I need to quit blogging and get to work.

Oh, and . . . no Zoo Tycoon today. Rats.