One morning on my daily walk, I was fretting and stewing over what I could possibly do with my one-year-old during school time. I was feeling some despair with a new baby on its way. I couldn't see any end to the disruption of babies in my home school for many years to come. I was praying and scheming at the same time: I could wait until the baby's nap to teach school, I could rotate the children with baby-sitting chore away from our schoolroom, I could get a playpen, etc.: all solutions that didn't feel right--babies needs their moms!
As I walked and pondered, suddenly the Lord introduced one sentence to my mind and revolutionized my mindset entirely! "The baby IS the lesson!" I thought I was trying to teach Math, but in reality I had been teaching, day by day, how an adult values the precious gift of children. My children, by watching how I deal with the frustration of a crying baby or keep a toddler happy and busy with some of his "own" pieces while we play a math game, are soaking up "the lesson". Unfortunately, I had occasionally been teaching that the baby interrupts our learning.
How to be a Christlike person is the most valuable lesson a child could ever learn! The lesson is learned moment by moment; watching a parent being patient, handling frustration with kindness, pressing on for the goal in spite of numerous interruptions, valuing each child's needs regardless of inconvenience. That valuable insight--how Mother handles the baby is the real lesson--has dramatically changed how I view my home school. I am teaching foremost my values: godly character, kindness, respect for others, individuality, sacrifice and a host of other Christlike attributes. Teaching them reading, writing, math, etc. is very important to me but my perspective has been altered. "Mimic me, follow me and I will show you the way a Christlike person acts and what he values". That is the message every parent relays to their children whether they are aware of it or not. Children try to copy everything anyway (our mannerisms, our daily activities, etc.). We must be certain that we are providing a correct pattern for them to copy, not only in our daily activities but in our attitude, our tone of voice, and our facial expression. We need to conduct our lives so that we can say "follow me". If our children are to "buy" our values, what a tremendous responsibility we have to make sure we are living our best so the lesson is clear and well learned! What more could you ask for from your homeschool than to produce Christlike people?!
Teaching your children basically means getting your own personal life in order and striving daily to be the leader for them to follow. Of course, we fall short and they must look to Christ for the perfect being but they need to see daily how one acts, speaks, lives, solves problems. We are acting as a proxy, in a sense, for Christ. Since they can't have his daily role model, then he has given his children parents to be an example, to point the way. Along with lesson preparations, we need to prepare ourselves by asking: is the pattern I live the way Christ would act? Can I say today that I have marked the path for my children to follow? Children learn from seeing their parent's role model. Watching an adult make a simple mistake (such as being too punitive with a child) and go through the process of repenting is 100 times more effective than your devotional lesson on repentance. This means children must be intimately involved with you in your daily life. A few hours a day after school won't do it.
Children should be involved in the adult's life rather than daily life rotating around the children. Research has shown that children who have grown up to be productive well-adjusted adults are those who have been drawn into the parent's world; their daily activities, work, and interests; rather than having parents who centered their world on the child. When I began home schooling, I never could find the time to do the things I felt were important for my life; such as writing in my journal, corresponding with relatives, studying my scriptures, and more. Somehow, in my busy-ness of trying to teach the kids how to write in their journals, I was neglecting my own journal writing. Thankfully, we now have journal writing time in school daily, and we write letters to relatives together as a family on Sunday. Homeschool life should help parents do the daily necessities, rather than usurp the time needed for them. Home maintenance, chores, food preparation, gardening, food preservation, budgeting, clothing care (mending and sewing), planning family social relationships, caring for small children, record keeping, quilting, wallpapering, etc. are all wonderful life skills that can be done together that enhance a child's education!
The parent's joyful task is to lead and guide the child into the real world--not set up a contrived pseudo-world to teach skills that the children would easily learn if they spent their time around adults who were striving to live good lives. What constitutes an adult trying to live a "good life"? Being a productive adult would constitute a full-time curriculum! Plant a garden, read good literature, serve the needy, be politically aware, keep a journal, vote for honest men, develop your talents, etc. The exciting part about leading a child into the real world is that they are self-motivated. The moment I sit down to play the piano, all my children want to play and want me to teach them to play something. No sooner than I begin typing on the computer, I have the whole family "needing" to type. My efforts at writing have, humorous to me, stimulated the production of "books" from my youngest children. Modeling is so much more effective than lecturing.
Studies show that the biggest determining factor for a child's success in reading in school is if they have seen a parent reading in the home on a regular basis. This is especially true for boys if the parent who reads is their father, rather than their mother. Somehow, the example says far more about the value of reading than endless hours in school reading groups.
In every area, it takes instruction to teach skills to little people. Children need to master the basic academic skills (reading, writing, arithmetic), social manners, music competence, and a host of other abilities and that does take focused concentration and time from mother/teacher to accomplish. It isn't realized just by living in a family. But shared family life practices and contributes to those skills. Having taught my little girl the numbers and the plus, minus and equal signs and how they worked, she jumped right into figuring out how many plates she needed to set the table using her new skills: ("We have 9 and the boys are gone to college so that is minus 3, so we need six").
When we think of homeschool, sometimes we get tunnel vision, and think "academics", "keeping up to speed" and other worrisome concerns that don't really tell the whole story. Homeschool is the growing and nurturing of fine, upright people. So, how we treat and value the baby really is the lesson.
Class never dismissed.
—Diane Hopkins
http://www.lovetolearn.net/policies/baby.lasso
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
525,600 Minutes
525,000 moments so dear
525,600 minutes
How do you measure,
Measure a year?
In daylights,
In sunsets,
In midnights,
In cups of coffee.
In inches,
In miles,
In laughter,
In strife.
In 525,600 minutes
how do you measure a year in the life?
How about the length that it takes for the IRS to send your adoption credit refund check?
How about the length it takes to hold the check in your hand?
525,600 minutes
How do you measure,
Measure a year?
In daylights,
In sunsets,
In midnights,
In cups of coffee.
In inches,
In miles,
In laughter,
In strife.
In 525,600 minutes
how do you measure a year in the life?
How about the length that it takes for the IRS to send your adoption credit refund check?
How about the length it takes to hold the check in your hand?
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Guess what I got in the mail...
on Thursday?
A letter from the IRS, they are totally my pen pals, which said:
1. I may or may not have already received my adoption tax credit refund check
2. They were adjusting the amount.
3. If I hadn't recieved the check it would be coming in the next 2 - 3 weeks.
4. If I disagreed with the adjusted amount, mail the bottom portion of the letter in.
They can't tell if it was sent out? And what if I had received my check, spent it, and now the adjusted amount was less then the amount I spent? Would that mean after battling nearly a year I would owe the government money? Dear Lord, how does the great nation function on a daily basis? It truly is an act of God that governments keep on govenring.
Though I can't complain, it's our own fault. Can I build a time machine, go back and time, and slap upside the head the first Israelite who starts to say, "I think we need a king, you know a man just like us, to rule over us."
A letter from the IRS, they are totally my pen pals, which said:
1. I may or may not have already received my adoption tax credit refund check
2. They were adjusting the amount.
3. If I hadn't recieved the check it would be coming in the next 2 - 3 weeks.
4. If I disagreed with the adjusted amount, mail the bottom portion of the letter in.
They can't tell if it was sent out? And what if I had received my check, spent it, and now the adjusted amount was less then the amount I spent? Would that mean after battling nearly a year I would owe the government money? Dear Lord, how does the great nation function on a daily basis? It truly is an act of God that governments keep on govenring.
Though I can't complain, it's our own fault. Can I build a time machine, go back and time, and slap upside the head the first Israelite who starts to say, "I think we need a king, you know a man just like us, to rule over us."
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Happy Fourth Birthday, Layla!!!!
Choose life
That you might live
The life that He gives
One day, you Miss Layla are going to look into the mirror and you might wonder…Where you got those beautiful brown eyes from? Where you got your nose from? Where you got those ears from? Why you will always have to have bangs of some sort? Why your laugh sounds the way it does? Why you have certain mannerisms that you do?
(Now I say might because I do take into account that some days you remind me so much of your Oma and Oma is unfazed by stuff, that sometimes I just say to her "You are like no other human I have ever known." Which is so true.)
All I can say and will say when or if the day comes is to tell you, God gave them to you. He created you in His own image and that you are fearfully and wonderfully made. I pray that answer will be enough for you, but I know sometimes we want a “human” answer, one that is easier and more tangible for our human minds to understand.
Then know this, know that today four years ago on January 21, 2008, your birth mother chose life for you. You might hear people say that women in certain parts of the world can’t afford an abortion or don’t have access to safe places. But I say since two people ate a piece of fruit suggested to them by an animal that man has had the thought and ability to abort. Your birth mother could have done that, but she didn’t. She chose life.
For reasons, we will probably never know she made the choice for you to be found outside an orphanage, dressed for the weather, placed where you could be found. There were other places she could have left you, places you couldn’t or wouldn’t be found, but she didn’t. Once again for you she chose life.
You and your birth mother had a problem, but God had a plan. like He did for Moses, though I’m not saying you’re ever going to be leading people to the Promised Land, but you get what I mean.
The orphanage that she left you outside of worked with a wonderful agency ran by two awesome people, Dick and Cheryl, whose passion and gifts are to find families for children who need them. Based on great recommendations and my own conversations with them, I signed up with them way before you were born. God’s plan for your life, for us to be together, was in action before you were even conceived.
You weren’t the first baby I was matched with. The first baby, whom I call June Layla, was the baby I got the call about. Then when it was time for the John Hancocks, I found out I had been referred a new, older, bouncing baby girl - - you. Beautiful, wonderful, you, because your birth mother chose life.
Because she chose life, I was given the honor, the privilege, and the blessing to be your mommy. To sit on the bed in my room while you opened your first birthday presents cause Oma was in a pissy mood and it’s best to keep to yourself when she’s like that. And by opening presents, I mean your brother opened your gifts. To be present with you when you turned two and we did something that I honestly can’t remember and I’m too lazy to try and research to see if I wrote down what we did for your birthday. (FYI - sometimes it sucks being the third child.) To watch you blossom into an incredible three-year-old and share that birthday with you, just hanging out, opening presents, and spending the day together, and you blowing out the candles on your little half a cake with just the five of us. And now today to see my talkative, brilliant, knows what she wants, gorgeous baby turn the big F-O-U-R. I am truly, truly blessed. God is so good.
Once upon a time you had a problem, but God had a plan. A wonderful, amazing, fantastic plan. A plan that is still coming to life and will keep coming to life until you draw your very last breath, I pray scores upon scores from now.
So we might never know where you got your brown hair from being born in a land where the majority of people have black hair. You won’t be able to trace it back to a birth maternal grandmother or a birth paternal grandfather. But please know, please remember, if you question or wonder, please rejoice in the fact that your birth mother chose life for you. She CHOSE LIFE. God gave her the courage, the wisdom, the strength to choose life.
So today on your fourth birthday, we celebrate that you are another year older. I can’t believe you’re four. Where did the time go? I, today, like every day thank God for the awesome gift that is you. I really scored in the whole kid department. The terrific trio is terrific for a reason.
I love you, Layla! I adore you even when you drive me stark, raving mad. I’m so proud that you are my daughter and I’m your mother. I pray that as you continue to grow you will become a person who loves the Lord and lives according to His will. Happy Fourth Birthday, Layla!!!! I love you forever. I like you for always though I won't always like what you say or do. As long as I'm living my baby, you'll be.
Trust the Lord with all your heart
With all of your soul
And all of your being
Hold on
Listen and obey
Surrender your life
Into His keeping
Choose life
That you might live
The life that He gives
He gives you forever
Choose life
The way that it's true
From the One who chose you
Your Father in Heaven
That you might live
The life that He gives
One day, you Miss Layla are going to look into the mirror and you might wonder…Where you got those beautiful brown eyes from? Where you got your nose from? Where you got those ears from? Why you will always have to have bangs of some sort? Why your laugh sounds the way it does? Why you have certain mannerisms that you do?
(Now I say might because I do take into account that some days you remind me so much of your Oma and Oma is unfazed by stuff, that sometimes I just say to her "You are like no other human I have ever known." Which is so true.)
All I can say and will say when or if the day comes is to tell you, God gave them to you. He created you in His own image and that you are fearfully and wonderfully made. I pray that answer will be enough for you, but I know sometimes we want a “human” answer, one that is easier and more tangible for our human minds to understand.
Then know this, know that today four years ago on January 21, 2008, your birth mother chose life for you. You might hear people say that women in certain parts of the world can’t afford an abortion or don’t have access to safe places. But I say since two people ate a piece of fruit suggested to them by an animal that man has had the thought and ability to abort. Your birth mother could have done that, but she didn’t. She chose life.
For reasons, we will probably never know she made the choice for you to be found outside an orphanage, dressed for the weather, placed where you could be found. There were other places she could have left you, places you couldn’t or wouldn’t be found, but she didn’t. Once again for you she chose life.
You and your birth mother had a problem, but God had a plan. like He did for Moses, though I’m not saying you’re ever going to be leading people to the Promised Land, but you get what I mean.
The orphanage that she left you outside of worked with a wonderful agency ran by two awesome people, Dick and Cheryl, whose passion and gifts are to find families for children who need them. Based on great recommendations and my own conversations with them, I signed up with them way before you were born. God’s plan for your life, for us to be together, was in action before you were even conceived.
You weren’t the first baby I was matched with. The first baby, whom I call June Layla, was the baby I got the call about. Then when it was time for the John Hancocks, I found out I had been referred a new, older, bouncing baby girl - - you. Beautiful, wonderful, you, because your birth mother chose life.
Because she chose life, I was given the honor, the privilege, and the blessing to be your mommy. To sit on the bed in my room while you opened your first birthday presents cause Oma was in a pissy mood and it’s best to keep to yourself when she’s like that. And by opening presents, I mean your brother opened your gifts. To be present with you when you turned two and we did something that I honestly can’t remember and I’m too lazy to try and research to see if I wrote down what we did for your birthday. (FYI - sometimes it sucks being the third child.) To watch you blossom into an incredible three-year-old and share that birthday with you, just hanging out, opening presents, and spending the day together, and you blowing out the candles on your little half a cake with just the five of us. And now today to see my talkative, brilliant, knows what she wants, gorgeous baby turn the big F-O-U-R. I am truly, truly blessed. God is so good.
Once upon a time you had a problem, but God had a plan. A wonderful, amazing, fantastic plan. A plan that is still coming to life and will keep coming to life until you draw your very last breath, I pray scores upon scores from now.
So we might never know where you got your brown hair from being born in a land where the majority of people have black hair. You won’t be able to trace it back to a birth maternal grandmother or a birth paternal grandfather. But please know, please remember, if you question or wonder, please rejoice in the fact that your birth mother chose life for you. She CHOSE LIFE. God gave her the courage, the wisdom, the strength to choose life.
So today on your fourth birthday, we celebrate that you are another year older. I can’t believe you’re four. Where did the time go? I, today, like every day thank God for the awesome gift that is you. I really scored in the whole kid department. The terrific trio is terrific for a reason.
I love you, Layla! I adore you even when you drive me stark, raving mad. I’m so proud that you are my daughter and I’m your mother. I pray that as you continue to grow you will become a person who loves the Lord and lives according to His will. Happy Fourth Birthday, Layla!!!! I love you forever. I like you for always though I won't always like what you say or do. As long as I'm living my baby, you'll be.
Trust the Lord with all your heart
With all of your soul
And all of your being
Hold on
Listen and obey
Surrender your life
Into His keeping
Choose life
That you might live
The life that He gives
He gives you forever
Choose life
The way that it's true
From the One who chose you
Your Father in Heaven
Colored People
“Mommy, why is my sister white and I’m black?”
“Mommy, why is the baby’s bottom white?”
Yep, my big girl has become very color observant. Interestingly enough, there are only two colors - - white and black. So everyone has to fit into those two categories. Most of the people she has pointed out to me as white haven’t been white. She reminds me of a story Melody told me about her college friend, Kim, who for a while thought Melody was white because she knew for sure Mel wasn’t black like her so what did that leave. That story makes me laugh because Mel is multiracial, but mostly Native American, and I’m not sure how Kim missed that. Or even as Mel has gotten so often gotten mistaken for, Hispanic, Kim didn’t come up with that scenario. Maybe there weren’t too many Hispanics in Louisiana.
How to answer Rowan’s questions?
“Your sister isn’t white. God gave people more pigmentation than other people. You have more than the baby.”
“On the spectrum of brown, your sister is on the fairer end.”
“Everyone is different colors. Your sister is fairer than you, but you are fairer than Mommy, Jory, and Oma.”
“Why does the baby have long hair and I don’t? Is it because she’s white?”
Your sister’s hair should be longer and you don’t have long hair because God is protecting you both from me murdering you two. You both hate getting your hair washed, combed, brushed, or fixed now, how in the world would the two of you act if you had more hair? “Some people have longer hair than others.”
So interesting, Jory has never had questions about skin color. Never once brought it up. He obviously notices but maybe it’s his personality or maybe it’s him being a boy or both, but not a bleep from him about it all. And not a bleep from the baby about it either.
On Sunday she asked Jamie if Blake was hers. Jamie answered, yes.
“But why are you a different color than he is?” Rowan countered.
Jamie nicely and simply explained the skin color difference to Rowan and assured her that she was indeed Blake’s mommy.
It’s interesting that she notices different colored mommies and babies, yet doesn’t see Layla and I as part of that group.
I don’t want to skirt around Rowan’s question, but I want rear her with a Godly perspective on color. When she asks questions, the DC Talk song, Colored People, runs through my head.
Pardon me, your epidermis is showing miss
I couldn’t help but notice your shade of melanin
I tip my hat to the colorful arrangement
Cause I see the beauty in the tones of our skin
We've gotta come together
And thank the Maker of us all
We're colored people, and we live in a tainted place
We're colored people, and they call us the human race
We've got a history so full of mistakes
And we are colored people who depend on a Holy Grace
A piece of canvas is only the beginning for
It takes on character with every loving stroke
This thing of beauty is the passion of an Artist's heart
By God's design, we are a skin kaleidoscope
We've gotta come together,
Aren't we all human after all?
Ignorance has wronged some races
And vengeance is the Lord's
If we aspire to share this space
Repentance is the cure
[1, 1, 1, 1... 2, 2, 2, 2... 3, 3, 3, 3... 4, 4, 4, 4]
Well, just a day in the shoes of a color blind man
Should make it easy for you to see
That these diverse tones do more than cover our bones
As a part of our anatomy
We're colored people, and they call us the human race
[Oh, colored people]
We're colored people, and we all gotta share this space
[Yeah we've got to come together somehow]
We're colored people, and we live in a tainted world
[Red and yellow, black and white]
We're colored people, every man, woman, boy, and girl
[Colored people, colored people, colored people, colored people, yeah]
“Mommy, why is the baby’s bottom white?”
Yep, my big girl has become very color observant. Interestingly enough, there are only two colors - - white and black. So everyone has to fit into those two categories. Most of the people she has pointed out to me as white haven’t been white. She reminds me of a story Melody told me about her college friend, Kim, who for a while thought Melody was white because she knew for sure Mel wasn’t black like her so what did that leave. That story makes me laugh because Mel is multiracial, but mostly Native American, and I’m not sure how Kim missed that. Or even as Mel has gotten so often gotten mistaken for, Hispanic, Kim didn’t come up with that scenario. Maybe there weren’t too many Hispanics in Louisiana.
How to answer Rowan’s questions?
“Your sister isn’t white. God gave people more pigmentation than other people. You have more than the baby.”
“On the spectrum of brown, your sister is on the fairer end.”
“Everyone is different colors. Your sister is fairer than you, but you are fairer than Mommy, Jory, and Oma.”
“Why does the baby have long hair and I don’t? Is it because she’s white?”
Your sister’s hair should be longer and you don’t have long hair because God is protecting you both from me murdering you two. You both hate getting your hair washed, combed, brushed, or fixed now, how in the world would the two of you act if you had more hair? “Some people have longer hair than others.”
So interesting, Jory has never had questions about skin color. Never once brought it up. He obviously notices but maybe it’s his personality or maybe it’s him being a boy or both, but not a bleep from him about it all. And not a bleep from the baby about it either.
On Sunday she asked Jamie if Blake was hers. Jamie answered, yes.
“But why are you a different color than he is?” Rowan countered.
Jamie nicely and simply explained the skin color difference to Rowan and assured her that she was indeed Blake’s mommy.
It’s interesting that she notices different colored mommies and babies, yet doesn’t see Layla and I as part of that group.
I don’t want to skirt around Rowan’s question, but I want rear her with a Godly perspective on color. When she asks questions, the DC Talk song, Colored People, runs through my head.
Pardon me, your epidermis is showing miss
I couldn’t help but notice your shade of melanin
I tip my hat to the colorful arrangement
Cause I see the beauty in the tones of our skin
We've gotta come together
And thank the Maker of us all
We're colored people, and we live in a tainted place
We're colored people, and they call us the human race
We've got a history so full of mistakes
And we are colored people who depend on a Holy Grace
A piece of canvas is only the beginning for
It takes on character with every loving stroke
This thing of beauty is the passion of an Artist's heart
By God's design, we are a skin kaleidoscope
We've gotta come together,
Aren't we all human after all?
Ignorance has wronged some races
And vengeance is the Lord's
If we aspire to share this space
Repentance is the cure
[1, 1, 1, 1... 2, 2, 2, 2... 3, 3, 3, 3... 4, 4, 4, 4]
Well, just a day in the shoes of a color blind man
Should make it easy for you to see
That these diverse tones do more than cover our bones
As a part of our anatomy
We're colored people, and they call us the human race
[Oh, colored people]
We're colored people, and we all gotta share this space
[Yeah we've got to come together somehow]
We're colored people, and we live in a tainted world
[Red and yellow, black and white]
We're colored people, every man, woman, boy, and girl
[Colored people, colored people, colored people, colored people, yeah]
Tuesday, January 17th - The Greatest Day of the Year!
Praise God! My mom has finally gone back to work. I love when she’s off. Okay, no I don’t. When she’s at home that just means she has time to get into things and sometimes can create havoc. Not all the time, but sometime. But the worse is that it throws the kids off their morning routine. Oma tries to be helpful, but she throws them off their game. They act like they don’t know how things are suppose to go in the mornings when she’s there. This is how it’s been for the past month, but finally she’s back at work and this morning. We were back on program.
Please God don’t let Oma retire anytime soon.
Please God don’t let Oma retire anytime soon.
MLK Day
The baby slept in late. Jory was being lazy. My mom didn’t feel up to it so I decided Rowan and I would go to the King Day parade by ourselves. I tried to get my mom to come one last time and she was hemming and hawing, she let Jory could his own breakfast and make toast. Toast for everyone. She does know that bread isn’t free, right?
Finally she decided we should all go. We should all go and walk.
“Are you bringing the stroller?” she asked.
Uh, hello?! Have you not been out with us? Double strollers contain little people. Double strollers are a gift from God. “Yes, I’m taking the stroller.”
We find a spot after trying out some other spots. I realize I’m getting older as the cheerleaders and dance teams pass by and I think, how do their parents let them wear those outfits? Why aren’t parents protesting? One school has cheerleading skirts that are just flaps, so when the girls move you can see their shorts. What’s the purpose of that?! Just let the girls wear the shorts with the sweater, cut out the middle man.
We had a good time. Being out amongst the people, enjoying the crowds, the smell of the delicious hot dogs. Next year, I’m bringing money with me. And we got some exercise. Oma even treated us to Church’s, or rather the kids. Every time I go to Church’s for some reason I always think of Melody.
A good day and a good way to spend MLK Day even if school never got accomplished.
Finally she decided we should all go. We should all go and walk.
“Are you bringing the stroller?” she asked.
Uh, hello?! Have you not been out with us? Double strollers contain little people. Double strollers are a gift from God. “Yes, I’m taking the stroller.”
We find a spot after trying out some other spots. I realize I’m getting older as the cheerleaders and dance teams pass by and I think, how do their parents let them wear those outfits? Why aren’t parents protesting? One school has cheerleading skirts that are just flaps, so when the girls move you can see their shorts. What’s the purpose of that?! Just let the girls wear the shorts with the sweater, cut out the middle man.
We had a good time. Being out amongst the people, enjoying the crowds, the smell of the delicious hot dogs. Next year, I’m bringing money with me. And we got some exercise. Oma even treated us to Church’s, or rather the kids. Every time I go to Church’s for some reason I always think of Melody.
A good day and a good way to spend MLK Day even if school never got accomplished.
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