Most Important

Reminder to self:

“…Mary has chosen that good part, which will not be taken away from her.” Luke 10:42

I love homeschooling. It has worked well for our family, which is why we have stuck with it for so long.

When I count all of the hours we’d be in the car, running here and there, doing homework, etc. I think parents who have their kids in traditional school probably spend as much, or close to as much time, as I do, on school! Not to mention, some (probable) stranger would get the honor of spending all of that time with my kids -- and I’d miss out.

But this school year, and the prep leading up to it, this “seasoned” homeschool mom has been befuddled and bewildered.

Reevaluating.

Having to choose.

Too many choices.

Indecision.

Confusion.

Paralyzed at times.

What has always worked before isn’t working for us this year. I have had to make changes. And I really like the comfort of the “same-old, same-old”, so it is sort of hard.

I have four school or pre-school aged children at home this year -- from a highly intelligent and stereotypical Boy With A Curl In The Middle Of His Forehead who needs alot from ME, to a high-school young man who learns differently than his brothers before him, with two in between who cross over each other in some subjects, but have different learning styles and needs.

I finally realized that I needed to let go of a curriculum we really, really like, at least for awhile, and simplify. It was a huge blessing when my kids were closer in levels, and I could do it with multiple ages and levels at once. But things are different now and I need to be flexible. I am still sort of saying “boo-hoo”, but it is getting easier as I see how much sense all of the new things are making.

I am seeing light at the end of the tunnel, finally embracing the hints I’ve been seeing for months now. And I think I am going to rejoice at the “in with the new” as soon as it is all in place and running smoothly. Because it will fit. It will align with what I see as a desired end result, and peace will reign. In my heart anyway – probably not in this house full of jokesters and gymnasts doing parkour!

Back to the Basics:

“Every day, every hour, the parents are either passively or actively forming those habits in their children upon which, more than upon anything else, future character and conduct depend.”

~ Charlotte Mason

I look forward to the next couple weeks of establishing

and settling into our new routine!

I’m A Project Junkie

I am driving myself crazy.

I like doing projects. But I get bored if they take too long per sitting. So I almost always have several projects going at the same time. That way I can, say, paint some furniture for a little while then go in the house and teach dictation. Try a new treatment for the wall, then plan dinner. Throw in a sewing project {which I am still designing with my kids and have not even taken the machine out yet}, then work on the pile of clothes for the kid’s sale coming up. List a few items on Etsy, help my daughter bake some bread -- and back to painting we go…

Are you getting the idea?

The benefit to being this type of personality is that alot of projects end up being finished around the same time and give me a huge feeling of satisfaction as I survey the results – and all of those checkmarks on my project lists.

The drawback is that I become goal oriented and almost can’t sleep because I am so eager to finish up and settle into a routine. I will finish them up, then possibly not do another project for months.

An even bigger drawback is that I create alot of messes, all at the same time.

Right now I am working on at least six projects, easily, and a couple of them are pretty huge. And I have several in the queue I am excited to get started on. But I am making myself finish up what I started first!

I have friends who start a project, then work on it for hours and days, day after day, until it is done, then start on the next one. I have friends who stay away from projects altogether.

What kind of project person are you?

Ohhh, and that said, I want to remind you that Soup's On Saturday, Third Edition starts NEXT WEEK! Can you even believe it? I guess I will have to embrace fall by then.

I am hoping to have the finalized schedule ready today or tomorrow.

Please join me and give me more soup recipes! And I'd love it if you place my S.O.S. button on your blog too, and help me spread the word! You can find the jibberish (otherwise known as html code) for placing it on your blog over in my sidebar.

Whimsy On Wednesday: Hidden Treasure

"A bird's not defined by being grounded but by his ability to fly. Remember this, humans are not defined by their limitations, but by the intentions I have for them; not by what they seem to be, but by everything it means to be created in my image." ~W. Young

The whimsy I have had on my mind the last couple of days is the little piece of “dog”wood above. My grandpa found it once, long ago. I think it was in his kindling pile. He polished it, gave it a coat of veneer and put a little hook in it so he could hang it on their wall.

Since he passed, I have had it on my wall. It is funny how something so simple and sort of silly can make me think of deeper things.





I love it when people see things with rose colored glasses. Glass half full types, who have a tendency to look on the bright side. People who see the best in others, and the sweetness in life. Bright eyed optimists who see hidden treasure.
My grandpa did that, even with everyday things like the piece of “dog”wood. My grandma is that way, especially about people. 

I think God is that way too, when He thinks about us.

I am reminded of the quote above (below the picture) which I once read in a book I tried more than four times to finish but never did. It reminds me that it is okay to be on the path I am walking right now -- the beaten zigzag of learning and making mistakes and not being who I was created to be on a given day.
Because walking this path, as confused as I sometimes find myself, and how, so many times, I am just bumbling through like a bull in a china closet, it is all part of becoming ‘enlightened’ to who I truly am, causing me to grow into who I was created to be. And, more importantly, to really know Who God is and what He planned for me to do here (Ephesians 1:17-18).
I am still learning. And that’s okay. God sees me as that girl. Already, today.



I hope that, today, you can find something sweet and unexpected, some whimsy in an everyday thing, reminding you that you are a work in progress...

And you are beautiful.

Oh and look, by way of a foggy follow-up, here’s another reminder… I’d love it if you gave this song a listen while you look at the pictures below. Beautiful, sung acapella by Rescue. Fog keeps us from seeing what is underneath. But it still looks really beautiful.

This fog dissipated in a matter of a few minutes, while I got my coffee.

And I could again see the fertile valley below.

You're Late! You're Late!

This morning I watched a piece on T.V. about why people are late. For my church-going friends, I thought this morning would be great timing to write about it because, no matter how well you think you have prepared, there's always that rush to get out the door on a Sunday morning!

There were many reasons they presented for why people are late including procrastination and people thinking they need to squeeze out every last minute of busy-ness. I was informed there are counselors specifically for helping people figure out why they are always late. It sort of amused me. I wonder how long it takes, if the counselor schedules them for an exact time and, if they do, if they tell the counselee a time that is 15 minutes earlier than what they write in their appointment book?

Like the weather, time always seems to be an issue and a topic of conversation:"Better late than never" contradicts "Better an hour too soon than a minute too late". "Do you know what time it is?" is a well known pick-up line. "I just haven't had time" is a commonly heard excuse phrase. The official trailer of the new movie "Alice In Wonderland" even includes a line about being late (I know there is a famous line in that book, but this is slightly different).

I was always taught that people who are perpetually late think their time is more important than everyone else's. I think there is some truth to this, even just in perception, but I don't think it is the answer.

I have friends who are perpetually late. And I have friends who hate being late. I can't think of a friend I have about whom I would say they would never be late. Some people don't even notice when you are late. Some people are really bothered by it. And some people never forget. Based on me being late about twice or three times in over 25 years, one of my friends has indicated several times that I am "always late".

I would definitely not say I am "always late". But it isn't unheard of, that's for sure. I don't like being late, but there is also a difference between being late for, say, a wedding, vs. a casual appointment with a friend. With a friend, it is usually something like "Let's meet around 10" or, "I'll probably be there around 10", rather than "It starts at 10".

If one of my friends is 5 minutes late, give or take a couple of minutes, I don't really consider it as late. Probably because, living in the country myself, it takes longer to get everywhere and I understand that it is difficult to anticipate traffic and road construction.



It's all about that pesky clock that just keep ticking. If I am late, it is usually because I have overestimated time -- either how much time has passed or how long a certain activity will take and how much I can fit in. Sometimes I just lose track of time then suddenly it dawns on me. I look at my watch and start that scramble we all know all too well. Time just gets away from me!





Are you a late person? How do you feel when others are late to a meeting with you? If you are late, why would you usually say that is?


Have a punctual week,

Never Too Late
It is never too late to be happy;
It is never too late to smile;
It is never too late to extend a hand
With a cheering word once in a while.
For there's never a sorrow or worry
In all this green-covered earth
But is followed soon by a gladsome joy
And a generous measure of mirth.
~ Jeanette H. Carey

Teach Your Children Well

In the city where I was born, there is a sex and lies scandal about the mayor, which broke this week.

Senator Larry Craig was arrested based on charges of a sexual nature.

President Bill Clinton was embattled much of his presidency with his own sex scandals.

Senator Ted Stevens of Alaska was at the center of a corruption trial.

Governor Rob Blagojavich of Illinois is embroiled in a corruption scandal as well.

Even without publicized scandals, many of our politicians, whether local or national, endorse ideals we do not agree with. In this country we are free to voice our dissent and we must do so in the proper forums.

All of this begs the question: How do we teach our children to respect those in authority even when we feel they are going against our own ideals? Is it respectful to protest or to voice our dissent?

I am going to be posting more about this in the coming week or two. Please share with me if you have thoughts on this.

Don't Blame Me

This morning, in the wee hours when my sick little one was asleep on my chest and I was unable to sleep, I was watching a reality show that highlights people who are traveling via air, bits of their stories, and (mostly) challenges with the airlines. As I watched the scenes being played out, I noticed an common thread -- lack of personal responsibility.

Sometimes an airline has done something wrong. We all know they overbook flights. And they have lost a lotttt of luggage! Yes, these things do happen. But usually the problems, on this show at least, seemed to arise out of the traveler's own mistake or neglect.

One such man, with 10 minutes before the plane was to leave, thought he had time to go smoke a cigarette. But when he came back his flight had departed. His 12 year old son was scheduled for surgery the next day and there were no more flights out that night. His parting words to the airline personnel were "Thanks alot, hopefully my son doesn't die from anesthesia".

Maybe he felt guilty that his addiction was more important than getting home to his child.

Another man had been sitting at the gate and became deeply engrossed in the paper he was reading. Somehow he missed every warning and boarding call -- and then missed the flight all together. Personally, I wonder if he also went to smoke or get a "beverage". He tried to argue that the announcements were not loud enough -- even though no one else had been left behind. He said, "Don't you think it is pretty fundamental that people need to actually be able to hear when they are supposed to board?".

Maybe he felt stupid that he had missed his flight for no good reason. Or was afraid he would have to pay for another ticket so wanted to make it someone else's fault.

Not long ago, I politely, even sort of lightheartedly so as not to make him uncomfortable, asked a young man if a series of necessary meetings relating to my kids had yet been scheduled. He was in charge and I had reminded him several times already but the time was getting short and still no word of any plans. He had already failed to come through on a series of things he had said he would do - so this was just one in a long list. And he always seemed to have an excuse that got him off the hook and implicated someone else.

This particular time he shrugged and said "my bad" in a dismissive "oh well" sort of a way.

Admitting (sort of) but not making it right.

I have heard alot of sympathy recently for people whose homes are being foreclosed on due to the fact that their payments are too high. And I hear blame being given to the lenders that gave the loans. The consumers are trying to blame the lenders who gave them the loans for the fact that they cannot make their payments. Yet they, too, deserve blame for the situation they find themselves in. My husband and I have always been approved for way more than we can afford when buying a house. It is a simple matter of figuring out a little math. The corporation is now suffering because of their lack of discretion and so is the consumer -- both self inflicted!

This is such a prevalent thing in our society. It almost seems as if it is not only accepted, but we make excuses for each other so no one has to be "to blame"!

Several years ago I was at a retreat. The person leading the lesson talked for awhile, then we were to pair up with a predetermined buddy and go over a list of items of possible things we were doing (or not doing) in our lives that could harm us, and we were to rate ourselves, then discuss it with our buddy.

There was something on there about honesty. Something about the way it was worded made me realize that there were some things I did that were not totally honest. Things I didn't mean to lie about but that were not full of Grace and Truth. For example, I am running maybe 10 minutes late to a meeting somewhere. Then I come to some road work and have to wait 2 minutes. I arrive at my destination and say how sorry I am for being (15 minutes) late, but explain in a dismissive way about the road work. Of course I never shared that the road work only delayed me by 2 minutes!

Someone else to blame for my own shortcomings. No I am not free of guilt in this myself. Yet I do not EVER want to allow it to take root in me.

I certainly do not want to raise children who do not accept responsibility for their actions. Better a stone to be tied around my neck and be thrown into the sea than to teach this to - or accept this from - my children.

Thanks God for the reminder. Sometimes I don't even see it myself! Please reveal to me when I am not accepting responsibilty for my own actions.

Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts: And see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.

Dorky Confession: The Day I Hid From The Garbage Man

It never would have dawned on me to blog about this except Kat gave some writing prompts at her blog and it reminded me. I'll have to make sure my niece reads it because it is one of her favorite stories.

The prompt was "tell about a time you hid from someone". Oh my.

A few years ago we went camping. When we came home, we pulled our 1, ONE (camping) trailer into our driveway very carefully (no, the picture above is not our real car or trailer). We had to maneuver around several trays of flowers (maybe 4-5) waiting to be planted and the empty pots they would be planted in. We don't normally park it there. It normally goes on the other side of our property where it isn't so prominent. But often when we return home from camping we park it there to unload it rather than haul everything much further. We left the car attached so it wouldn't need so much work to put it back into it's normal spot. This makes it be about 50 feet long all together. Our driveway is large. It can handle it for a day or two.

The next morning I got up rather early, as I have been known to do, while everyone else was asleep. I planned on getting the flowers planted before they got up. I stayed in my pajamas. It was a thin t-shirt and shorts duo. But not exactly modest. I did not brush my hair. I didn't want to wake anyone. I really enjoy my early morning time alone. We live in the country. Our driveway is long and we are away from any neighborly eyes. Everyone else is asleep. No one to care.

I am about my business, my hands deep in soil, when I hear the garbage truck coming up the driveway. Initially I don't think it is any big deal. I just quickly duck into the camping trailer, waiting for him to dump our trash into his truck, turn around and go back down. Then I will walk out and resume my digging in the dirt.


Only he can't turn around. The combination of our 50 foot long camping setup and the pots of flowers sitting out block him in. And it would be quite alot of work to back down our gravel driveway, a 500 foot sloped mess of bumps and ruts.

He gets out and starts walking toward the house, right by the open shades of the trailer. I duck and lay down on the floor. I'm pretty sure at that moment he knows I am there. I am certain he can hear my heart thumping. Or at least my loud, nervous breathing. And, usually, there are two of them. One to drive and one to dump.

I hear him knocking and knocking on our front door. And knocking. About 4 feet away from where I am hidden. In my immodest pjs with my unbrushed morning hair and dirty hands. And I don't know where garbage man number two is. Maybe about to peek through the open door through the screen and see me. In my pajamas, with dirty hands laying on the floor.

My husband is a deep sleeper. My kids are in the basement bedrooms and can't hear loud enough to wake them. I am NOT going to appear and answer his knock in my immodest pjs. Oh no. Not me. If you know me you know I am, well, I'd be embarrassed beyond any description if he saw me.

The garbage man continues to knock. I continue to lay on the dirty, just-camped-upon carpet, hoping he doesn't discover me. I am trapped. He is trapped. My heart is pounding wildly. He is knocking louder.

I am going over the scenarios in my mind. In each and every one, I am discovered.
1. He wakes up the household. We must move the trailer. I am in the trailer. Two person job.
2. No one comes to the door. He stays trapped. The police come. Or the fire department. And we get a fine.

3. I could possibly find a raincoat to put on as a robe and step out, sleepily stretching as if I'd slept in the trailer. But I couldn't wash my hands so he'd know.

I better just get out and answer before bad turns to worse. But then it would be obvious that I was hiding from him. Nope. I must stick with my hastily made plan. Right. To. The End.

I hear him walk by me again. Holding my breath. I hear him talking on his phone or radio. Then I hear the phone ringing in the house. No one is answering. It is ringing and stopping and ringing again.

Garbage truck exhaust is stinky. I can only hold my breath so long. I was shaking so hard at this point that I didn't know if I could walk. I was NOT going to be seen by the garbage man in the hoochy mama getup I was in. Yeah, it was a t-shirt and shorts. But the way I felt, I may as well have been in my birthday suit. I was praying. "Somehow, please just make him GO!"

I was on the verge of getting out several times but couldn't force myself.

Then, finally, God Bless America. I hear his truck moving. I don't know how, but it is sounding further away. Soem slamming of doors and bumping and skidding and yelling. Then all is quiet.

I am too afraid to move in case I was mistaken and they just turned the engine off, or they are stuck in our driveway. I laid there awhile until I heard nothing for long enough to be fairly certain he was gone. Then I finally mustered up the courage to move.

I ever so slowly rose up and look out the window to make sure. Relief. He is gone. He backed down the driveway. How, I do not know, but he was gone. I didn't care how.

My heart was still pounding. I was still afraid one of them stayed behind to catch me in my folly. So I gather everything I have in me and run into the house and shut the door.




Later on I listened to the answering machine message. "Mr. and Mrs. ____! Our driver cannot get out of your driveway. There are flowers and trailers all over your property! Please answer your door!".

Yes, that's us. 44 trailers and trays of flowers and pots everywhere you look. All over the entire 5 and a half acres.


I guess I was not the only one who over reacted that day.

Well, there ya have it. The time I hid.

What He's Been Waiting For

I thought I was all alone. But I found out I am not.

I am a strong Christian.
A faithful wife.
A grateful mother.
A sister and friend.
A mentor.
A leader.

And yet I struggle. I feel betrayal. My sense of justice is damaged. My heart is wounded. I see no end in sight. I am tired. I am weak and carnal. My spiritual knees are practically flat from kneeling so often this last year.

And today I was reminded that I am not alone. We all put up a facade. We put our best foot forward. We all want to appear to be strong. We express our loving concern for "struggling friends" as we flash our cheerful smiles. We like to think we are more holy, stronger, more qualified. If this is all we allow to be visible, we can keep our dependable reputation intact, right? Thinking if we admit our weakness we will be rendered unusable.

I'd much rather be the usual me. I want to accept a miracle and move on. I don't want to admit weakness or faithlessness or need. I want to be the popular kid who has it all together. We have started in a new place and I want to be known as The Lady Who Has It Together. I don't want to be weak and needy.

I am grateful for the real and honest women who spoke to me today. Who shared their sameness with me by sharing their strength and their brokenness in the same breath. They heard my desire to crawl under a rock and they still saw strength in me. Yet, I had no strength. So I know it was His Strength showing through - even though I feel as if I have been stripped of usefulness. I was reminded that Now is what He is waiting for.

And now He can use me.

I know soon He will gift me with joy that is unspeakable. And I will share it here with you who have also shared in my weakness, yet believed in me. And today he will give me Grace that is sufficient.

And yes, may His power rest upon me.

"And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me." (2 Corinthians 12:9)

"Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in needs, in persecutions, for Christ's sake. For when I am weak, then I am strong." (I Corinthians 12:10)

"Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.But if any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all generously and without reproach, and it will be given to him." (James 1:2-5)

Where Am I?

A bloggy friend of mine recently posted a "where am I" post on on her site. She showed pictures of where she was with her husband including one with a huge stuffed horse in the window above a shop. The horse was entertaining, but the shop proved the be the real clue. I simply enlarged the picture so I could read their shop name then used the invaluable Mr. Google. I knew right where she was within seconds.

The past few months I have not been myself. This is humbling to admit. I'd rather be Mrs. Dependable-I-Don't-Need-You-But-Am-Here-To-Help-YOU. These days I am always tired and often sad. Well, maybe not sad. Maybe wistful. Maybe discouraged. Yes, maybe sad.Mostly tired. As my grandma puts it "my get up and go got up and left". I do not know if I am sad because I am tired or tired because I am sad. Am I low in iron? Is it my adrenal gland thing? Am I depressed? I just don't know. I have so many wonderful things to be thankful for, to rejoice in. On bright days I pull myself out and am thankful to see "me". I am so blessed. I don't want to be a whiner. Maybe this is all part of my testimony for "But I Had A Tiara"? All about expectations and the fact that they never play out how you think they will...

Now, many of you don't know me personally so I will tell you that I am normally energetic, joyful, willing to do hard things, want to be with people, adventurous and all sorts of other things that right now, I am not. So where am I?

If I post a bunch of pictures of myself, can you enlarge me, run it by Mr. Google and tell me where I am?

Honor

Not long ago, when I was at the beach, I observed something very touching. A humble scene. It wasn't anything I'd have noticed if I weren't paying attention.

We were eating in a restaurant that faced the beach. Through the windows was the boardwalk and I could see the people coming and going, up and down the stairs to the beach. I had a pretty good view of the ocean and much of the beach as well.

There were couples holding hands, moms with kids, and Mr.Bubbleman who has an attachment on his bike so, when he turns it on, he rides around with bubbles coming out the back of it. There were colorful people -- one lady had missing teeth and her daughter had hair of three distinct shades -- and there were plain and simple folk. I saw kites and bikes and strollers. I saw joggers and people testing out the water. Of course there were several dogs. We are at the beach.

My eyes have to move quickly just to see what's in front of me. I was glad I'd had a cup of coffee to keep me warm because now it was helping me be alert, to join in each story that walked by. Activity. Color. Movement.



And when I saw them my eyes stopped moving on.
I watched honor as it played out before my eyes, over my skillet breakfast.

A tiny old woman and a tall younger man. Maybe a mother and son. Maybe an old aunt. Is she a nun? It was breezy and she was wearing a thin dress. Bare legs and ankles underneath. She was zipping up her jacket and pinning her head wrap. I don't see how she will keep warm. She won't be out there long. He was waiting patiently and even respectfully helping her. Then he supported her as they walked down the stairs and began to walk toward the ocean.

Stopping to bend down and look at something. Stopping to catch her breath. Sometimes taking steps closer and more quickly. I expected shuffling, but often she picks up her feet as she steps. He's patiently walking. He's talking to her. She's talking to him. They smile. S l o w l y they walked all the way to the ocean.
It's cold out. The coastal winds are huffing and puffing. Yet they stand at the edge of the ocean. They turn and look around. They stand and chat. Maybe in a language I don't understand. They have all of the time in the world. No hurry. A fluttering, aged hand grasps at the place on her neck where her sweatshirt is opening up a bit and some of the cold can invade. She leaves her hand there.

I go outside to watch. I want to take a picture but don't have the strong lens with me.
Such patience. He's moving on only as she is ready. He could have rushed down to the water's edge, picked up a shell or two to show her, then ran back to his car and on to the next thing. 10 minutes and he's done. It has been at least 30 minutes now.

I take it back. He isn't being patient. He is relishing his opportunity.

They get an extra hard gust and stop to adjust her balance. Then start walking quickly. I think they are coming back now. But no. They stop and chat. She bends over and flips something over and back then stands back up. What is she thinking? Is she remembering something? Is there a reason for this trip or is it just for a lark?

He isn't just tolerating her. He is enjoying her enjoyment.

Her slippers don't match.

They are almost to where I am. I am snapping away, trying to act like I am just getting scenic shots. I can't get a close up without maybe worrying them. My opportunities are past now for any more pictures. I watch him help her up the long stairs again. I went back inside and didn't see them leave. I bet they stood on top and looked down again.

He gave honor. In every movement, every gesture. By the time he invested, not by the time he allowed. And I was honored to observe.

Melon+Collie=

This is how I feel today.

Get it?




When I am melancholy, it is time to apply the "mantra" I heard from Gregg Harris at a homeschool conference and brought home about 5 years ago. As a family "we" have adopted it as a way worth living our lives. I have repeated it to countless friends and I am about to read the book his sons wrote on the topic for teens (really, I am. It is on my reading list and my virtual shelf, right?).



Do Hard Things? Today? I don't wanna.

When I am feeling low and just want to crawl back into bed, I usually analyze myself for hours at a time. Why am I feeling like this? At "my" age, I suppose it could be hormones, being low in iron, wakeful night-times catching up to me, something's unsettled in my spirit or with a relationship... The possibilities are endless.

I really don't feel like getting the house ready for company. I REALLY don't feel like "riding herd" on the kids to do work. I am tired.

I really don't feel like doing reading with my daughter out of the same reading book I've used for the four before her, saying it slow and saying it fast, sounding out the words and hearing the same silly stories I've been hearing for the past 13 years. I really don't. I don't want to hear her read the word hunting just fine then get stuck on the word at.

Or listen to my sweet 8 year old trying so hard to do it right so he overemphasizes emotion in his voice that is reflective of the punctuation of the story he is reading. So when it says "We better hurry!", he reads it like the whole town is afire by inflection and volume. WE BETTER HURRY!!!! I appreciate his heart in this and see how precious it is that he tries so hard. And I want to want to sit with him. But today I don't.

Let's not even talk about junior high and high school math that needs my attention. I will definitely raise the Star Trek wall and there will be no putting it back down today. Subject closed.

I don't want to unearth the buffet, recently having become a dumping ground (why, after 7 years of no dumping, I do not know). Nor do I want to face the pile of mail or spot clean the carpet. This is just the visible-to-company stuff. Not to mention all of the other projects that nag at me continually that I can't seem to make a dent in.

Here I can launch into all of the "I'm a Holy Wife and Mother" reasons why all of this will be a blessing to my family and how encouraging that should be to me. Or how I am sure that by tonight I will be so glad I did. Or I can spend some more time analyzing why I am feeling this way.

But what it all boils down to is... when I say the words "do hard things", it isn't just for those days when I purposely take on an extra challenge like walking to the blinking light and back with a baby on my back or in a stroller (3 miles of hills), or those hard things forced upon us by necessity like tracking down a cow and calf over the countryside and trying to get them a mile back up the road and into a stall.

For ladies like you and me, it is just as much, if not more, about these day to day "I don't feel like it" moments and days. !!!

So here I go. I am sticking my chin out and letting my strong stubborn side prevail for good.

Here I go to DO HARD THINGS. 1....2....3....

Total Forgiveness Talk

Did you get all excited when you read the title of this post, thinking I was going to share something really juicy that I need to forgive someone for? Oh well, this is better. Not more fun, but BETTER:)


My friend K told me the author of one of my current favorite books, Total Forgiveness, has been on Focus on the family several times this week, drawing from parts of his book for discussion.I am going to listen to it. Here's the link if you want to listen to it too.

If you do, please leave a comment and tell me what you think, what parts struck you particularly, etc. I'd love to discuss it so it sticks in my brain.

What's The Deal?

First of all, let me say I think it is hilarious that my boys WANT to wear plaid shorts. Cracks me up, it really does. The whole preppy look is just so different than the pants-halfway-down- boxers-hanging-out style (my boys never did get into that) and the holes in jeans thing. For this I am grateful, though I kind of like the distressed clothing look.

I looked at shirts for my teens today. Almost every tee shirt had a skull. Some were planted in a garden or surrounded by roses or guitars or other (otherwise) pretty things. Why is it cute and in style to wear skulls? It's a human head with no flesh -- as in a decaying body!

Other selections included a vulture, swords stuck through things and/or around dragons, outlines of naked women and naked women with strategic parts covered by the banner of the manufacturer, surrounded by guns, skulls, swords or dragons. Alot of these were Hurley or Quicksilver. The gray one above is a skull framed in pistols, the blue shirt is a skull framed in roses and the white one is a guitar made of a skull.

I don't mean to sound old or prudish, but doesn't this celebrate a culture of death? The one below is a skull amongst branches of a tree with ravens in it.

I wasn't sure of some of the brands and designs either. My boys heard that Element has ties to witchcraft. I hate to buy into gossip and penalize the company, but I also don't want to support that kind of thing if it is true.

There was a shirt with a picture of Uncle Sam and a bunch of words I didn't get. I hated to buy it if it was sarcastic and bashing America, as seems to be edgy right now.

What are the brands Lost and Ezekiel? And where have I been? I knew skulls were big, but there were literally about 30 different skull pattern shirts and about 3-4 without skulls or other sick things.

I guess Old Navy is the only place to find graphic tees that don't smack of all of this. Of course, I am sure someone has a story about Old Navy too...

What's a family to do?