Madeleine L'Engle

I just finished reading The Summer of the Great-Grandmother by Madeleine L-Engle. It is a poignant true story of the last summer spent with her mother before her death.

She looks back on her childhood and growing up years as an only child of parents who were very cosmopolitan and well-travelled. She laments the fact that she can no longer communicate with her mother as she once did while having morning-long talks over coffee at the kitchen table.

She has to come to terms with the fact that after her mother's death, she's now the 'matriarch' of the family clan; a role she doesn't want but has to accept.

Here's a quote from the book about one thing that formed who she became as an adult. "School was mostly something to be endured; I don't think I learned nearly as much from my formal education as from the books I read instead of doing homework, the daydreams which took me on exciting adventures in which I was intrepid and fearless and graceful, the stories Mother told me, and the stories I wrote. It was in my solitudes that I had a hand in the making of the present Madeleine."

I agree with her, because that is also my experience. I've learned so much more out of school than in. Only in solitude can I work out solutions to problems, think in peace, and be creative.

If you've never read any of her books, I highly recommend them. She's probably best known for A Wrinkle in Time. I prefer her non-fiction. She was also a writer of spiritual books. In the above mentioned book, she was struggling with who God is and traditional religion, but later on she became much stronger in her faith.

*The lady in the photo isn't Madeleine L'Engle, she's an ancestor of mine, Lydia Walker.

A Good Education

Darcie driving a wagon in Colorado and scraping a deer hide in Jamestown, Virginia.





"The object of education is to prepare the young to educate themselves throughout their lives."

Robert Maynard Hutchins

Grandsons watching a rifle-firing demo at Yorktown, VA. Good grief, those old guns were loud!

Bauer receiving a lecture on different punishments given to wrongdoers. The 'Insubordinate' label he's holding up certainly fits.

Caed petting a turkey in the colonial settlement at Yorktown, VA.

Bauer and Caed chasing a strange-looking duck.

I think one of the best ways to self-

educate is to travel. All these photos were taken on family field trips/vacations. Our family loves to learn the history of a place we visit and to do as many interesting things as we can while there. The children aren't always willing participants, but they'll thank me someday!

Hydrangea Love

I love hydrangeas; blue, pink, purple, green, and all shades in-between. My bush has blue ones which turn green and pink on the bush if they aren't cut off. I brought these in and dried them and can enjoy them all year.

This old Mason jar is one my grandma used. I love the diamond pattern. It makes lovely refracted patterns when the sun shines through.

The books are all about motherhood. I haven't read many of them, because I'm always too busy BEING a mother to read about how to be one! I learned motherhood in the trenches. I always prayed (and still do), "Lord, help me to be the best mother I can be. Help the children to remember and good and forget the bad. And God, please fill in the cracks."

Baby Update

More baby photos. The twins are doing exceptionally well. Piper even nursed. Laurel said she was ravenous and was screaming about it. She already has quite a reputation in the hospital nursery. Yikes! Just what we need, another drama queen in the family.

The children in our family are very hard to raise. They're self-willed and stubborn. None are easy going. But they sure make interesting adults and friends. If you can get to that point! I about lost my everlovin' when I had four little ones at home. Note: I don't know if 'everloving' is a Southern thing or a modern word. Anyway, it means 'my mind' as in "I about went crazy" or "I lost my mind". Does anyone else say that?

Babies and mama are doing well. The pediatrician said last night that their lungs will be compromised until ages 2-3. We all have to get a flu shot. I was whining about needles when Laurel said you can get a squirt of the vaccine up your nose. Oh boy, flu germs in my airways. Actually, that may not work for me. I have viral issues anyway. I'll have to check. Anyone have any experience with this?

The girls are going to be called Piper and Scout. I think those are the cutest names ever!

Piper getting some Nana love.

Charlotte Mason Wisdom

"The habits of the child produce the character of the man, because certain mental habitudes once set up, their nature is to go on for ever unless they should be displaced by other habits. Here is an end to the easy philosophy of, 'It doesn't matter.' 'Oh, he'll grow out of it,' 'He'll know better by-and-by,' 'He's so young, what can we expect?' and so on. 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." (CM Original Homeschooling Series Vol.1, pp. 118)

"This is the law of habit, which holds good as much in doing kindnesses as in playing the piano. Both habits come by practice; and that is why it is so important not to miss a chance of doing the thing we mean to do well. We must not amuse ourselves with the notion that we have done something when we have only formed a good resolution. Power comes by doing and not by resolving, and it is habit that serves us, whether it be the habit of Latin verse or of carving. Also, and this is a delightful thing to remember, every time we do a thing helps to form the habit of doing it; and to do a thing a hundred times without missing a chance, makes the rest easy." (CM Original Homeschooling Series Vol.4, Book 1, pp. 208,209)

G.K. Chesterton Quote

"How can it be a large career to tell other people's children about arithmetic and a small career to tell one's own children about the universe? How can it be broad to be the same thing to everyone and narrow to be everything to someone? No, a woman's function is laborious because it is gigantic, not because it is minute." G. K. Chesterton-- English writer and Christian apologist.

Balance Defined

This is our latest family photo taken last Sunday when our new daughter-in-law's Assyrian family came for a visit. Unfortunately, our son-in-law is missing, because he was taking the photo.

If we do not limit our inflow, we become swamped by the life demands of others. If we practice too much solitude, we risk being flooded by stagnation and a moody narcissism as our life and our art become emptied of all but the big question "How am I doing?" What we are after is a balance, enough containment and autonomy to make our art, enough involvement and immersion in community to have someone and something to make art for. Taken from Walking in this World by Julia Cameron.

I've swung too far wide in both directions in the past. It's easier for me to now recognize when I get out of balance. If I stay home too much, I get slightly depressed and too inward-focused. If I stay away from home too much, I get grouchy because I'm not doing my work at home and also not being creative.

So I try to stay home as much as a twelve-year-old's schedule will allow. I do need contact with the outside world 2-3 times a week for me to feel connected. Of course, I'm talking to my children and parents on the phone throughout the week. I also connect with friends by e-mail and Facebook. I also try to have lunch once a month with a friend, and I have bookgroup and art association once a month. I keep my four grandsons at least once a week. Add church fellowship and homeschool group once a week, and that's plenty of 'peopletime' for me in a week.

My problem is having enough solitude and long stretches of time to think and be creative. That's the lack right now. Until the summer, that's the way it'll have to be; unfortunately.

Busy, busy days

I didn't post at all last week, because my life right now is super busy; busier than I like it to be. But what do you say when your daughter wants you to keep her four boys for four days so she can have a little r & r with her husband? Yes, of course.

And what do you say when your son calls from Ft. Benning and says that he's coming home for the weekend? Yes, of course!

And what do you tell a twelve-year-old daughter who wants to enter things in the fair which means taking those things there one weekend and picking them up the next? Okay, I reckon.

So now with all those things behind me and my birthday coming up on Wednesday, I'm heading for the mountains! It'll be a short trip, but I don't care. I HAVE to see the mountains in the fall and get apples at Mercier's Orchard in Blue Ridge, Georgia. Check them out on the internet.

After tending to so many family needs these last two months, I'm going home to be pampered by my parents. It's nice to be little again every now and then.

P.S. The photo is one taken last Christmas of us and our five children. It's a photo of a photo, so the quality is pretty poor.

Learning to Lean

My soldier boy, Lord willing, will be home in about nineteen days. It's been a long year. I've learned a lot about trust and faith this year.

When my children were small, I prayed that they would make a difference in the world when they grew up. Now that four of them are grown and are making their marks on the world, I'm afraid that God will use them by taking them far away from our family center. Or worse, be martyred for their faith.

Having one in Iraq has definitely helped me to let go and be willing for God to use them in his service any way he sees fit.

I'm even more convinced that whatever happens to them will be for his own glory; even though I may not understand it.

Letting go of my adult children into God's total care has been one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. Does it seem fair to invest twenty plus years of your life into another person's life only to have them go away from you?

Such is the lot of mothers.

Fall Semester Begins

This is Gabriel, our adopted college student. He's a music performance major at our local university; lucky for us. He serenades us with Chopin, Rachmaninoff, etc. when he comes over. We usually have him over to eat Sunday dinner with us after church.

Our church has this program where college students who want to be adopted while they're in school in our town and going to our church sign up. They're then placed within our church families.

We've had some not so good ones in the past, but we scored big with Gabriel. He's only a sophomore, so we'll have him around for a few more years.

I gave him the score from the movie Pride and Prejudice for Christmas last year. It's the most beautiful music I've ever heard. Within a few weeks he had it all worked up and was playing it for us. There are definite perks to this adoption thing. Now if he'll only do the dishes!

The Many Sides of Love

"...no two children, even within the same family, have identically the same parents.
That is because the personality and gender of each child
brings out different things in the same parents."

~ recently quoted by Shari Howerton, author of Breaking the Chains

I was so glad to find the above statement, because it states a truth I've been trying to convey to some of my children. We don't treat our children exactly alike. If someone does, then I want to meet that perfect person!

Just as we respond differently to other people outside the family, so we do within the family also. I act differently around different friends, because they each bring out a different aspect of my personality.

Within the last month of so, two of my children have called me out about favoring my oldest son. After giving it a lot of thought and talking extensively about it with them, I have to admit that they're right. At least I can see why they think that. Of course I don't love him more, but I do treat him differently. He just makes me happy, because he's crazy and funny. He knows no boundaries (which sometimes gets him in trouble). He's a big nut. He also drains me of energy. I can only take him in small doses. But I love him for his craziness and how he makes me feel.

I love the uniqueness of all our children. I love Laurel for so many things I can't even begin to list them. She's my best friend. I just said why I love Garrett. I love Tyler for his sincerity and gentleness. I love Dylan's thoughtfulness and courtly manners. I love Darcie because she's my baby and always will be. And I'm not forgetting my two children-in-law, Matt and Leigh Anne. Our family has been greatly enriched by having added them. I love Leigh Anne's forthrightness, truthfulness, and willingness to work to put Dylan through school and Matt's willingness to talk about anything and everything at any time. Also, he's the best salesman on the planet.

I'll admit that I need to be more sensitive to my children's feelings and watch that I don't act like I love one more than another. I'm very thankful for children who love ME enough to exhort me; painful though it may be.

Decluttering My Hobbies

Things are blooming down south. This is a redbud tree in the children's garden. Spirea, daffodils, azaleas, camellias, grape hyacinth, and more are budded out.

I'm also coming out of my wintertime fog. I had an "Aha!" moment this past weekend.

I've been reading Susan Vreeland's Luncheon of the Boating Party; about Renoir's painting and how it came to be. I love the descriptions of how he saw colors and light. I see that way too. I notice things; subtleties.

But unlike Renoir, I have had almost no training in painting. I believe I could learn to paint, but the amount of time it would take is time I can't give right now.

So for now, I'm going to concentrate on photography and writing. I'll do the occasional small watercolor, for I can do those without much angst. I find them fun and relaxing.

God has chosen motherhood for my life's pathway and all that calling entails. Until Darcie is self-reliant, I won't have the time to pursue painting on a large scale.

And maybe it will come sooner than I think it will. I'm going to practice contentment in this stage of my life and count my blessings which are many. I'm not going to think of what might have been. I just want to be the best mother and grandmother I can be.

I don't want to become an old person who just sits in the house all day. I want to be active and learn new things with my family. I want to show them that it can be fun to get old. I want us to have fun together.

But the point of this post is to say that, for now, I'm letting painting go. Except petite watercolors.

Homecoming

Garrett's tour of duty in Iraq is half over. He gets to come home for two weeks. Yeah! He leaves Iraq at 9:00 Monday morning, flies to Kuwait, and then picks up a commercial flight to Atlanta with a stopover in Germany. Iraq time is eight hours ahead of Eastern time. That should put him here Monday night or Tuesday morning.

I am SO excited about him coming home. The first six months have just crawled by. I hope the second half goes by much faster. I'm praying he's not going to re-enlist!

One thing on his agenda while he's home is to go to Swainsboro and pick up the motorcycle he's bought. Every day there's a new package on the porch for him; two helmets, a black leather vest, and who knows what else. The boxes are stacked head high in his room. That boy can spend money faster than anybody I've ever seen.

But he is grown. I reckon he can do what he likes with his own money. I just hope one of those helmets fits me, 'cause I'm ridin' that bad machine as soon as it gets home!

Ash Friday

I've tried for the last twenty minutes to attach a photo of myself to this blog post, and I'm giving up. Which, now that I think about it, is appropriate. You'll see why in a minute.

I missed Ash Wednesday. I wasn't even sure what it meant until I read other blog posts about it. I feel that I've missed out on some great church traditions being raised Southern Baptist and now Presbyterian. I should have known what Ash Wednesday was all about, but I didn't.

So I've been reading up this week on Lent. I like the idea of it. To give up something we cherish, perhaps too deeply, in order to think more on Christ and what He gave up in order to reclaim mankind.

So what to give up? I ponder on this as I stride angrily about outside doing different chores...anything to keep me outside in the cold long enough to cool off a little inside and out. Anger boils up inside me over things too deep to analyze; some not so deep. A recent argument with an eleven year old. A recent argument with a twenty five year old. No respect. Just leave me alone. Get a job. Get a life. Do your schoolwork!

As I'm emptying the ash bucket I stop and look down. Gray ashes burnt up and lifeless. Like I feel. I reach down and touch my finger to the soft remains and then place it between my eyes on my forehead. Ash Friday...what do I give up?

Myself. I give up my anger and self-righteous attitude. For the next forty days I'm going to try to not think about myself. Every time "I" pop into my thoughts, I'm going to deliberately turn that "I" into an "other". I tried it for the rest of the day, and it worked. I started feeling better mentally and physically.

Some background: I've been sick for the last two weeks and have spent it mostly at home huddled around a fire. As much as I love being home and having fires, my spirit doesn't benefit from too much of it. Everything turns inward and focuses on self.

Another thing I do is read self-help books focusing on the artistic nature. I don't think there's anything wrong with these books, but I make myself think I'm being productive by reading them instead of actually making art.

So no more "self" books or inward, selfish thinking until Easter. That's why I don't need a picture of myself attached to this post.

Praying for Peace

FRIDAY, JANUARY 22, 2010

Peace

My mom recently sent me one of our church's old hymnals. I was perusing it the other day and found one of my all time favorite hymns "Be Still My Soul." I think that is one of my favorite songs because it asks what I find myself often asking for: peace. Maybe it is my uptight nature, or I just haven't reached the point of where I have found peace, or perhaps it is a state of mind. I find myself angrier and fighting more often than I find myself content and peaceful. One thing I have learned here: many people are looking for peace; you can protect people from all types of external forces but you cannot protect people from themselves. I think many times their problems are in direct correlation with their lack of peace.

Memories of Sundays Past

During church tonight my four-year-old grandson sat next to me. He wiggled and fidgeted, slid off and on the seat, made faces, giggled, sighed, and pouted. After many warnings, to no avail, I sternly told him to sit up straight and to fly right. It's a Southern thing.

He got awfully still. I looked down and saw that he had fallen asleep leaning against my shoulder. He had made it almost all the way through. Staying seated during the last hymn so I wouldn't wake him up, a memory flitted through and around our singing of The Church's One Foundation. It was of me pretending to be asleep while leaning against my daddy's arm. I loved the way his body vibrated as he sang; lulling me further into a semi-conscious state. I remember being scared to move; afraid that if I moved so would he. I wanted that moment to last forever.

I thank God for parents who took me to church and taught me right from wrong. That godly heritage is priceless. I treasure it more every year. I hope too that our children and grandchildren realize sooner rather than later what a blessing it is to have Christian parents and a loving church community surrounding them.

Right now, all they're interesting in is how long the service will last or if they get chewing gum afterwards. But someday....they'll have precious memories that I'll be a part of just like my Daddy is part of mine. And my Mama, my grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins.

And that reminds me of that old song Precious Memories. Some of you may not know it, so I'll sing you a verse or two.

Precious mem'ries, unseen angels,

Sent from somewhere to my soul,

How they linger, ever near me,

And the sacred past unfold.

Precious father, loving mother,

Fly across the lonely years,

And old home scenes of my childhood,

In fond memory appear.

As I travel on life's pathway,

Know not what the years may hold,

As I ponder, hope grows fonder,

Precious mem'ries flood my soul.

Chorus

Precious mem'ries, how they linger,

How they ever flood my soul,

In the stillness of the midnight,

Precious, sacred scenes unfold.

Nature's Fall Bounty

This is what my kitchen floor in front of the pantry looked like when I got home from Tennessee. There are three bushels of apples, a large bucket of potatoes dug from my parents' garden, pears picked off their neighbor's tree, and three pumpkins sitting on the porch that aren't in this photo.

I've made some headway on the apples by making applesauce and apple pie mix. We've also eaten lots of them. I still have one and a fourth bushels left.

I've given some potatoes away and kept the rest. Last night for our fish dinner, I made home fries in the oven with olive oil and seasoning salt. We'll be eating lots of potatoes around here for awhile.

With the pears I've made Pear Crisp. They're deteriorating rapidly and need to be put up asap.

I hope to can some as Garrett loves Jello with pears. I want to have some if he decides to come home in five months.

One pumpkin has been cut up and baked in the oven and is now in our extra refrigerator awaiting processing. I'll puree and can it where it'll be used for pies, muffins, and bread.

Gayle said he's bringing in some White Half Runners this next week. Yikes! I told him to bring them on as I only have thirteen quarts to last till next June. For those of you who don't know, White Half Runners are the best kind of green bean. They're the only kind we ate growing up. People in the mountains especially like them. The grower down here in South Georgia ships all he grows up to Tennessee. So on top of all the pears, apples, and pumpkins, I'll have green beans too!

I think we'll take a 'Harvest Break' from homeschooling. There's no way I can put up all this food and keep to my regular schedule. Plus, Darcie needs to learn how to do all this canning and food storage. It's another form of education. Another benefit of teaching at home-the children get to live a real life instead of being stuck in a schoolroom with their peers while learning about life from a book. I believe in both books and real life. And when real life asserts itself with this much natural bounty, I'm going to pay attention and see that my students do too!

A Proud Sadness

I haven't posted in a while, because we've started homeschooling for this year. This is our first full week, and I'm trying to stick to the schedule faithfully. The hardest thing for me to do is get in bed by 10:00. As you can see, it's 10:51, and I haven't had a bath yet. If I don't go to bed at 10:00 then I can't get up at 5:15. I'll get up instead about 6:15 which will give me time to have worship and exercise before waking Darcie at 7:00. I'll just miss writing in my journal and reading a book on creativity.

I got some bad news today. Garrett called and said he'll be leaving for Iraq on October 2. That only gives us two weekends, and he's not coming home this weekend. He's going to a Clemson game.

He kept asking me if he should go. Of course I'd rather he came home, but I wasn't going to tell him he had to. We'll get to see him for a long weekend the next week.

I hate this feeling of sadness I have. I have to keep telling myself over and over that I believe God is sovereign over life and death, and if it is his turn to die, he'll do it here in the U.S. or somewhere else. It doesn't matter where.

My heart says, "Of course it matters! I want him here in town where I can control things." Like I can! I'm having a hard time letting him go. I guess it's a mom thing.

Awake My Soul!

In a book I'm reading called Sacred Hearts

by Sarah Dunant, I liked this passage that talked about the 2:00 A.M. office of Matins which is observed in monasteries and nunneries.

This novel takes place in an Italian, 16th century, Benedictine convent. There were many young girls living there, and this passage begins with them: Girls of their age are greedy for sleep, and Matins, slicing its way through the middle of the night, is the harshest of all the convent offices.

Yet its brutality is also its great sweetness, for its very meaning is to coax and draw up the soul through the body's resistance, and when one is pulled from sleep there can be less distraction from the noise and chatter of the mind.

Zuana knows sisters who, as they age, grow to love this service above all others, to feed off it like nectar, for once you have disciplined yourself to transcend tiredness, the wonder of being in His presence while the rest of the world is asleep is a rare gift, a form of privilege without pride, feasting without gluttony.

I found myself thinking, "Yes, I experienced that feeling during the 2:00 A.M. feeding when I had babies." It happens now when I have a sleepless night. I feel like I've been given a precious gift of time and quiet alone with God.

I didn't feel that way with the first one or two. I was mostly aggravated then. It took more precious children, realizing with each subsequent one how swiftly time moves on, to begin to appreciate and cherish those early morning feedings.

And now when I experience the occasional sleepless night, I get excited to have a house that's perfectly quiet. It's a great time to pray, think, and plan. I sit on my front porch swing, turn on the fan to keep the mosquitos at bay, and have a great time alone with my heavenly Father.

And if it's a bright, moonlit night, I might go bike riding...which reminds me of the time one midnight when the moon was almost as bright as day, I woke up my older children to come take a ride with me. Laurel couldn't be stirred, but Garrett came. We made a great memory that night. I'm sure many more memories will come flooding back in this upcoming year when he goes to Iraq. But we won't go there now...

The 'Tween

Darcie in her playhouse.
She just turned eleven; my baby. She wants her own house but is scared to go out of ours at night.

She gives me spontaneous hugs yet moves away if I try to touch her arm during church.

She's a bundle of contradictions. Good thing for her that I've learned over the years not to take these things too personally. For I know that she's instinctively moving toward being her own separate person. Little does she know how much she'll want our closeness later in her life.

So for now, I try not to overreact when she moves away a little. It does hurt my feelings though. But I have to be the adult and look beyond these years to the time when we'll be best friends. I keep telling her now that she's my best friend. She believes it, because she feels the same way. But the tug outward continues...confusing for her and hurtful for me.