Diagraming Life

I figured I would do an update on my second year of homeschooling my oldest.  I perhaps could include the little one, but she runs away like an animal getting ready to be eaten as soon as my foot enters the study threshold.  Sometimes she sounds wounded.  Sometimes she looks panicked.  Every time she gets away.  Every single time.  So I'm letting my good friend named the Internet help that one because I am plum out of ideas.  She's learning from animated friends and I sit by her lazily while my sheepskins (sheepskin?) hangs proudly on the wall above us.  Whatever dude she's learning.

So let's focus on that older one.  Well, you see, I started out with this grammar and writing curriculum and we really like it.  I mean, she got bored, so I picked up the pace.  We are set to finish the last installment on the grammar section this semester.  I am in a quandary as to where we are headed next.  It's a bummer, and exciting, and just what the heck.  What the heck.

This one loves diagramming sentences.  Um, ok, let me rephrase.  We love diagramming.  Sometimes we speak words to each other so we can write them down and diagram them together.  It is how we were created and we love words.  We speak them.  We diagram them.  We play with them.  We live them.  Words.  Lovely words.  Words with friends.

We like to write the words down on paper.  We do not like to edit the words.  She is working on a story now and that one is determined to let her friend named "spellcheck" fix her errors.  I mean she starts sentences with the word and.  And I just have no idea where she gets that bad habit.  She also likes to write and leave it alone, just like someone else I know.  (Don't touch my words.  Just read them, K?)

So I call the homeschool rescue squad, the homeschool store, for advice.  Free advice, y'all.  I always disagree with a certain individual who works there and that is fine.  I tell the person that we have run out of grammar curriculum.  What am I told?  "I think it sounds like you need to have some fun."  Really?  We are having fun.  I wish I were kidding because this whole scenario points a denim skirt and loads more children.  And fun family songs and hand claps.  Definitely hand claps.  Family cheers and the Waltons.

Just not really that way, ok?  Because, some days are just bad.  So bad you text your husband you are quitting homeschool.  Quitting your job.  Signing them up for public school because you quit.  There isn't much stopping you from dropping and running to the nearest school.  Yeah, those days come and go.  You know they are children under construction and you're not quite sure why you're homeschooling in the first place it all seems like a fuzzy dream how long will this last?

Then there are those days that don't involve you children who are mostly being children and are about heart issues.  Healing.  Going deep places with God.  Lessons abound.  Uncertainty is in the horizon.

You're left asking, "Lord, where is my life's diagram?"  

Don't get me wrong.  I love adventure.  I love spontaneity.  Silly is preferred.  Realness is a must.  But, Lord, I'm just not sure.

One thing is for sure, and I'll be honest, it has taken me some time to grow into this.  He is not a God where you have to wait for the other shoe to drop.  He isn't waiting to catch you doing wrong.  His plans are for the best, not the worst.  Plans to help, not to harm.  Plans to create hope.  A future.  Gently drawing you to Himself.

Lean in for this one though.  If you remember in English grammar, in the sentence diagram to the right of the center line is the verb spot.  Well, that's all fine and good.  Do you remember what goes under the verb?  (Wait for it, wait for it…)  Friends, it's the adverb.  You know, the words that tell to what extent.  

A homeschool mom can eat.  But if you add an adverb, it can change her 20 pounds or more.  (Firsthand experience).  A homeschool mom can eat heartily.  Guess what?  You can even add another adverb to make it worse.  A homeschool mom can eat very heartily.  How heartily?  Massive amounts under extreme pressure.  (Again, I've just heard this is true.)

Lord, this next phase.  Is it going to be one of a simple sentence with a simple predicate.  Perhaps throw in a delicate, precious adverb?  Or will you take me there.  I know that place.  Where rubber meets the road with You.  Healing.  Growth pains.  Discipline.  Where with time adverbs keep getting diagrammed one on top of the other.  Not the pretty ones.  Those ugly ones.  Telling to what extent.  Taking me there.

Sometimes my lessons from Him are simple, precious sentences.  Other times they are just wow.  Just wow.  As in hang on Carla this next phase will hurt.

The beauty of this is my sentences forevermore are already diagrammed for me.  Planned ahead.  The rub of life is predetermined and I can't derail His plans.  I'm a mess with grammar.  I just plain don't care.  If I ever write anything, y'all, I'll get an editor.  (Bless their heart let's take a moment to pray for them now.  Ok, carrying on.) But God sees me through the lens of His Editor.  The One who saw my soul when He died on the cross.  Filled me with His Spirit.  Picks me up when I fall and gives me words.

Lord may the Words you give me be used to bless.  Bless others.  Bless me.  Bless You.  Amen.

Happy Valentine's Day!

So this post has nothing to do with Valentine's day, romantic gobbly gook.  I just wanted to wish each and every one of you a happy one.  For me, well, I've had this GI thing that won't quit so this year I've ignored the day completely.  Barely sent the girls in with their school valentines and totally forgot the teachers.  (Altogether forgot.  I will not sugar coat.  As in, they got nothing.  My daughter's friend let her sign her valentine to the teacher so she would feel included.  First world problem.) But today, I feel better.  Cracker eating better, but better.  Woot woot!

You see, I ignore this whole valentine garbage.  I pretend with my girls and we get them a balloon, some candy, whatever.  We've never celebrated as a couple, at least married couple, and I'm fine with that.  Y'all, every day is valentines day around here.  I love these people every day.  I don't need a day of marked up goodies and flowers to complete my love.  Ok.  Ron Swanson is exiting the building.  

Enter Carla.  So I pretended this day wasn't coming.  Except I planned a Valentine's party for my oldest's school girl friends.  There's like 5 of them and their mamas.  Not a huge bash.  And because I was breaking out some fancy plates, I decided to make sausage balls.  (Sausage balls scream fancy, in case you needed clarifying…)

So I call my mom.  She says she will make them for me.  I said no way.  It was time for me to grow up.  (She is the Christmas sausage ball maker. She supplies my Christmas with sausage balls.  It's tradition.  Don't mess with tradition.)  She let me know easy that I am grown up.  Well, we argued over that for a while and then she said, "Carla, you know you have to hand mix the ingredients." I told her, "Mom, they will not turn out as good as yours, but I have these awesome stand mixers.  Dough hooks is where it's at, mom. Hands free, baby."  She assures me that sure, they'll be great.  (Because I wasn't turning back and she is super optimistic about everything in life in general.)  

This is the thing about the sausage balls.  I know they will not be as good as hers.  For a couple of reasons:  1.  Things other people make taste better.  (research driven right there.)  2.  I do not hand mix.  

She knows it and I know it.  I also had the opportunity a few days ago to practice patience and holding my tongue during this snowmagedon (praise God from Whom all blessings flow this junk is melting this southern girl can't handle this) and realized that people don't always change.  (I probably should tell you my mama gave this example of patience as proof I have in fact grown up.  Whatever. I do not believe it.) 

I will not hand mix.  Maybe when I'm retired and making my kids sausage balls?  Umm, probably not changing.  

I cannot make someone do something, change, respond the way I want them to.  Arrows will come at me and I have a choice.  How will I respond?  Keeping my heart at peace with my response is key for me.  

For me, this has looked like a few things in the past when dealing with people:

Pulling away from people (you heard me right) because it just might be enabling them or fueling the fire in you, or just plain distracting you from your goals. (Making all attempts to live at peace with everyone, as much as you are able…thanks, God.)  

  

Going into computer mode until I catch my breath and find the words (I've memorized a bunch of research to quote random things on a variety of subjects until I compose myself.  True story.)  

Changing the subject.  (If you do this often, people sometimes get the picture.) 

Confront (trying not to let things get ugly but firmness spoken in love gets things across- employ the teacher voice if necessary, with the teacher eye if needed).  I am a feisty individual when it gets to that level.  Ok, I am a feisty individual most of the time.  In my human career I have had to put people in their place, with love, of course.  I teach my girls that "good girls" sometimes use strong words.  I don't regret my strong.  

In all things…consider the source.  The source is the person, their negative patterns, habits, and their problem.  I try not to make it my problem.  Chances are, at some point, if not already, I struggle with what they are struggling with.  The thing with sin is that it is universal and doesn't discriminate.  My turn will roll around one of these days.  

Love above all.  Love above all.  Tough love.  Patient love.  Try not to strangle love.  

Happy Valentine's Day to my loved ones!  Press on and come over for a sausage ball sometime!   

I'm Doing It

I'm cleaning the home school room.  So much to do, so little time.  They grow so fast.  I blink.  Another year goes by.  I'm putting away activities for my littlest- lessons taught and lessons learned.  I find favorite ones from when I taught other peoples' treasures.  I never got around to doing them with my own child.  Packing away for another child to teach?  I sure hope so.  Another time to sit with a little and instruct.  Lead.  Foster growth.  I'm so sad they grow.  I want the time to slow down.  I get one shot at this thing called parenting and my clock resets with each I'm sorry and each sunrise brings a new beginning.  Some moments I just want frozen in time.

But I'm doing it.  

I look around me the mess.  Physical mess of papers, books I will get to eventually cleaning. I know the sheets need washing upstairs.  I know there's dinner to fix.  I struggle to find the balance of looking into my daughters' eyes and the day-to-day duties.  I get discouraged.  Will their memories be of a mom constantly digging herself out?  Treading water?  Have they even seen my eyes today?  Then I hear a prayer, "God thank you for my mommy, it sure is more fun with her around."  God, I don't deserve any of this.

But I'm doing it.

Physical limitations.  Heartache from unanswered prayer, or at least a different answer than I had hoped?  Struggle to find significance in the today while wondering what tomorrow brings.  I look around, I get discouraged.  The pain of loss.  Grieving unfulfilled dreams is just a sad mess.

But I'm doing it.    

Searching curriculum as these babies are flying through what I planned yesterday.  Finding cures for aliments.  Looking for the next size up in clothes.  Meal planning. Trying to get ahead.  Stay afloat for tomorrow.  Teaching them about the least of these and those whose spirits are poor and pocketbooks are empty.  Lord how are we connected to all of this?  Oh how I want to do more and be more and have more- more of this time, love, energy.

But I'm doing it.  I'm praying I'm doing it to His glory.  Sometimes it feels like one foot in front of the other.  It's messy doing kingdom work.  But I'm doing it.  I sure do love these people.  I love them something crazy.  I love the One who gave them to us and I know he loves us madly.  Assurance of his salvation leaving soft landings forevermore.  Wild, freeing love.  Love to do big things.

My pace is set to His heartbeat and His love flows through me.  Lord, You've hemmed me in.  I am Yours.

Story of Us

Dear 20 year-old Carla,

You didn't know it, but 14 years would pass until you were the Dean Dome, same 2 teams playing, same man by your side. (PS: The Heels won both times, so get excited:)

You came to the game on a whim, like you did most things your junior year of college. It was the year 2000, and that night they let non-ticket holders in the game for general admission because of the big snow. You smiled on your way in with your boyfriend, sat in the cushy seats in the lower level (wine and cheese, baby!), and life was good. You were having fun.

Did you know that you'd be here now, with him? Did you know he would propose over a year after that game?  14 years, 11 1/2 years married, two children, you are still with this man.

You still sit in the upper level seats. When you get to go to a game, that's all you're willing to put into the purchase.  So don't take these games for granted.  (Tonight you also cuddled with a man who spilled over his seat. Now, we won't hover on the spillage, let's just say you sat hip to hip and had a sweat spot when he got up.  All this is fine and good because it was so nice to be there.  And did I mention the Heels won?  Did you see his face when they won?  Yeah, the little boy came out again.) 

The man you dated then had an old Volkswagen with a muffler that rang like a love call- you always knew when he was driving to pick you up, so did all your roommates. It didn't bother you one bit. (Good thing because you'll drive your old Mustang "Thelma" for a while after you get married.  Well, until her horn won't stop honking on an early Sunday morning and your fellow apartment dwellers are cursing you as you rip off the middle steering wheel and rip the wires out.  Then you'll drive a used minivan, that sadly was never named. PS: Minivans rock- look forward to it!  You still might drive a Mustang again.  But we're not sure about that one.)

He was financially independent, a hard working guy. You two will share and accomplish a lot of goals together, with the help of no one.  You admire his independence, his hard work ethic.  You think he can fix anything.  (PS:  For Christmas 2005, when you buy him the jigsaw kit, don't forget the actual jigsaw.  You will want to make this a quick purchase because, well, it's Home Depot at Christmas.  Take a couple moments to look at the box.  He needs the actual saw, too.)

Yeah I know he thought it was crazy funny when you called Ed Cota a ball hog.  I know, you didn't know his position was to take the ball down the court every time.  That was his position, whatever.  It seemed right to say at the time.  Jokes on him because this game you spend texting a dear college girlfriend throughout the game about the game.  (Well in-between texts about children growing up and you both get teary together while texting "Boo ya" and "yes!!" Because things are never just about basketball.)  

Look around, beside you, those folks?  Just remember in the future connecting with these friends only requires a text, an email, a phone call, and you are back in touch.  Picking up where you left off.  Cherish them.  You are making forever memories.

Carla, you don't realize the magnitude of your decision.  Your focus was on enjoying your time at college.  I can hear you now, "I want no regrets."  I'd say good job.  You are a Carolina girl and fully lived it all.  I know you had no intentions of finding someone there.  But you did, and hang on to this one, ok?  

The man that you are beside will see you at your worst.  He will clean up your vomit when you can't hold down anything for being pregnant.  He will see your stretch marks, your birthing pains, your heart explode when that baby comes out.  He will not laugh at your jokes about "junk in my trunk" or any other negative thing you are struggling with.  Because he loves you and sees the heart behind those statements.  He'll see your vulnerability, your fears, your burdens.  He will want to fix them all, and will learn he can't.  But he will still try, because he loves you.  

This love is so big you're not sure how having kids will change things.  You will see his heart grow exponentially as he cares for your girls.  He walks them both back from the delivery room, won't take his eyes off of them, and stops their crying with the sound of his voice and the touch of his hand.  They know this because he has had real conversations with them for 9 months.  (This is a good thing because I don't want to scare you, but the first one, well, she doesn't stop crying for three months.) 

They have his heart and he has theirs.  He works long hours and plans well to provide for what they need.   He will want to get them things they want, too.  (Don't let him go too crazy with this one.  When they ask for "Squinkies" just tell him no.  You will vacuum more of those than are actually played with.  Ok, so just go ahead and tell him right now, no Squinkies, ok?  You will not regret that one.)  

He gets up for them, too.  He cleans up their messes, hugs broken hearts, and lives for coming home.  They will literally run to him screaming, "Daddy!" and you'll think they could never make him so happy.  The look on his face melts you.  (Sometimes you let them stay up to see him just to see his face.  It's ok, just don't make it a habit.  I probably should let you know sleep is something we value here.  It's basically all centered around sleep.  And Jesus.  Let them sleep.  Memorize that and repeat.)  

You'll see marriages crumble.  Keep going underwear shopping.  (Honey, there will be times your prettiest stuff will be from Wal-mart or Target, which is good because there are times that's all you can afford.)  Buy it anyway.  Jesus has a way of making big underwear purchases work in the budget and your husband will not complain.  You'll see.  (Hide the crazy ones from your children.  The little one might try to put some on her head when the new sitter arrives- let's just not let that happen, ok?)  

You'll still make his lunches with notes and kiss him goodbye.  You'll still keep it simple.  Each other first, then the other things.  You see, that's how it all started.  Simple times, meager budgets, looking over each other to the person God intends them to be.  Don't forget to look over those faults, those annoyances.  Look through his heart and help him shine.

There will be hard times.  Let me tell you a secret though- he hasn't changed.  He still stays until the end of the game because he says the Heels need him.  Now you know this may or may not be true.  Try your best to look over this.  He's a loyal one and the two of you together will move mountains.  Just make sure you enjoy each step of the way.