... watch this. We laughed until we cried.
A song by parents to their daughter as she gets ready to leave for college after growing up in Haiti as an MK [from the Livesays ].
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
April 17, 2012
January 2, 2012
random day, random night
Found this post in Drafts. lol This is a random day and peek into my Mommy life and brain, and attempt at stream of consciousness writing...? Bored with the way I write lately, so not creative. I was probably bumped off the internet signal mid-write or something, so forgot this was there. No days are typical here yet; this was just one. Follows is a random night, tonight.
RANDOM DAY
Woke up by barking dogs and sun streaming in windows, chatting over coffee about the previous night's fledgling Bible study we began in our living room, quick showers, reveling in the peace and quiet left in the wake of the holiday departure of the live-on-site construction guys next door (I can't go outside without having 8-10 eyes on me and without getting annoyed at having to talk over the fence every single time: does that make me very American? a bad Christian? a terrible missionary? I wonder), a repeat half-day long visit to Gendarmeria to register the van only to find out it's another week's wait to get it registered [UPDATE: make that a month, at least] and no we can't drive it yet after all surprise, surprise, half-hearted attempt to homeschool in rising heat before lunch, received some good news from Immigration Office: we don't have to go to Chile to renew tourist visas afterall yay (just can't leave the country until we begin residency papers), sent pre-adolescent out to water our dirt to coax random tufts of grass to root, ended up watering it myself since boy forgot and so did I, flooded dirt after 10 minutes due to compact desert sand, lunch, struggled as usual with intermittent internet reception, ignored laundry deciding it's too hot to hang clothes and it can wait until tomorrow, read board books to almost 3 year-old, scolded 3 year old for screaming and older kids for fighting, received response of "Okay, Ms. Tony", laugh instead of getting mad, checked email with the memory of it taking only 5 mintues once upon a time with high-speed internet as opposed to now when it takes one hour, sidetracked by the frustration of trying to read other things with a lousy connection, bagged it all and decided to distract cranky 3 year-old by making Christmas cookies, mildy noted to self that to do that in this heat means I must really love my kids and Jesus, Tony came home from Gendarmeria visit with milk before car goes into lock-down again, sat and discussed Christmas plans with husband while drinking terere, informed by son that I'm being "first class" (as in on the Titanic) by not wanting to turn on the oven to bake said cookies in 91 degree heat no air conditioning, further reminded by 11 year-old that "this is South America, you know", broke down and turned the oven on, almost 3 year-old burns herself on hot cookie sheet immediately after clear admonition to "Be careful, it's hot!", smoothed some antibiotic ointment on crying child and administered half shot of bubble gum flavored Ibuprofen, attempt to distract crying child again by frosting cookies, it works yay, it's now 8:00 and wondering what to make for dinner, momentarily annoyed upon remembering that we still hear from the natives, "You eat this early?" um yeah, 8, real early..., facing doubts about ability to handle Saturday's forcast of 99, youth group leaders pop in to pick Tony up to film skit for Christmas presentation, we drink more terere and hot mate, decide family will have to survive on hot dogs and left over pasta because it's just not right to cook in this heat, realize not for the first time that I suck at self control so let's just eat more cookies, bored and increasingly frustrated at the thought of being housebound one more day and not having our car ready to do anything mission-y for Christmas. Sigh.
Time for another cookie. The end.
RANDOM NIGHT
I pop some meat in the oven at 7, hoping to eat by 8. It was 100 today, and we lost electricity. Meaning we lost use of our fans, too. But light is back and it has cooled down to 90. Visitors drop in at 8 so dinner is postponed til whenever they leave. It is Marcelo and his wife and family. They walk over from the neighborhood next door. Some call it a slum. Some are nicer and call it a "needy neighborhood". We have to drive through it to get to our neighborhood. Tony says it's not a place you want to be at night. Argentines here have said to me, "You (looking at me), don't even show your face there after dark".
Marcelo works construction next door, they are building an apartment building there. Marcelo's wife, Yoli, stopped by last week wanting to talk to Tony. I had given Yoli some kitchen stuff weeks before, of which she was very appreciative since they have very little. She asked Tony, somewhat embarrased and not wanting to bother us, if I had any work for her: cleaning, ironing, taking caring of the kids. Tony said no, we didn't, why? She explains that they returned to Patagonia from their hometown to continue work, but his boss hadn't shown up. Now they are jobless until the site manager returns. He is a week late. A week Marcelo doesn't get paid. They had 50 pesos ($12) in their pocket, no food, and no news about when Marcelo's boss would be coming back so he could begin work again and earn money an income. Tony said not to worry, we will help them in what we can.
As a result, we try to convince Son that he does not need his bureau. Son insists that he is saving it to take back to the United States to sell at a yard sale and make money. We have a very long discussion about why it is not worth shipping it back to the US only to sell it at a yard sale (not touching on the fact that we do not know if we even will be moving back). We try to convince son to give bureau to this family who had very very little, no luck. We buy bureau off son for $40. Son happy. We happy. We give bureau to family in need, stuffing with random pieces of clothing. A win, win. Tony also leaves them $50 for food. Yoli is interested in a Bible, but we don't have one at the moment. Maybe the Gideons can hook us up.
Still standing there outside while meat is cooking in oven, it is now 9 o'clock. I ask Yoli if the furniture we gave her came in handy and she is visibly pleased and says, "Oh, yes." She half smiles and says glancing up, "I thank God above for all of the help you have given us." She then explains that they didn't come to spend New Year's Eve with us because she felt bad that they couldn't afford even a cider to bring over. So they didn't come. It was a bare year for them.
Marcelo and Yoli and family leave. We sit down to juicy meat dinner, slicing into the most amazing beef I think I have ever had, and I think of Yoli and her family. Tony says, "We need to do something for them." We grab our cooler (they do not have a refrigerator) and fill it with yogurt and cans of tuna and juice and Christmas fruit bread, and a tract or two. We pile the kids in the car at 11pm, and slowly drive over dirt and pebble roads to the neighborhood next door.
As we drive, I roll up the windows. It is still almost 90 out, but the kids here are setting off fireworks, the kind that should be set off pointing up, but they point straight across the street. Bright flashes of green and red fly across the street, horizontal, and die in the dry grass beyond.
As we drive, Tony points and says, "See those guys over there? Sitting on the wall? Those are the kind you have to watch out for."
"When we get there, roll up the windows all the way, turn the air conditioning on, and turn off the cell phone. Anyone outside the van can see in and see you have a cell phone and might want to steal it from you."
I repeat the last part about the cell phone back to the kids, one of which is playing something on mine that makes the screen light up bright.
We get there, deliver the cooler stuffed with food. We feel good, not scared, God is with us.
It is more blessed to give than to receive. It is.
Tony says goodbye, I am bummed a little. I wanted to go inside and see where they live. It is very, very small, two kids sleep on a mattress in the kitchen. I remind Tony we have an extra box spring and a flimsy mattress we save for guests. I wonder if they can use it.
We drive slowly, slowly back through their neighborhood to ours. We see young kids running around at midnight alone. The youth gathered in a park void of grass, just dirt. On motorcycles, a four wheeler, walking. Lounging. Some drinking. Some on drugs. Tony beeps and waves and says hi. You need to be friendly here. You hit a child or kill a dog here, you're gone. They'll just lynch you. Residents of the neighborhood nod that, yes, this is true. Drive very slowly here, and smile. Make friends.
One street over and back in our neck of the woods, we take a detour down the diagonal that borders our neighborhood, looking for the dog-sized hares that come out at night to hop down the street that runs along a field. We don't see any. We talk about how it has quickly become completely normal for us to go out for a drive at midnight with our kids, who are, we notice, still wide awake.
These are the days of small beginnings.
RANDOM DAY
Woke up by barking dogs and sun streaming in windows, chatting over coffee about the previous night's fledgling Bible study we began in our living room, quick showers, reveling in the peace and quiet left in the wake of the holiday departure of the live-on-site construction guys next door (I can't go outside without having 8-10 eyes on me and without getting annoyed at having to talk over the fence every single time: does that make me very American? a bad Christian? a terrible missionary? I wonder), a repeat half-day long visit to Gendarmeria to register the van only to find out it's another week's wait to get it registered [UPDATE: make that a month, at least] and no we can't drive it yet after all surprise, surprise, half-hearted attempt to homeschool in rising heat before lunch, received some good news from Immigration Office: we don't have to go to Chile to renew tourist visas afterall yay (just can't leave the country until we begin residency papers), sent pre-adolescent out to water our dirt to coax random tufts of grass to root, ended up watering it myself since boy forgot and so did I, flooded dirt after 10 minutes due to compact desert sand, lunch, struggled as usual with intermittent internet reception, ignored laundry deciding it's too hot to hang clothes and it can wait until tomorrow, read board books to almost 3 year-old, scolded 3 year old for screaming and older kids for fighting, received response of "Okay, Ms. Tony", laugh instead of getting mad, checked email with the memory of it taking only 5 mintues once upon a time with high-speed internet as opposed to now when it takes one hour, sidetracked by the frustration of trying to read other things with a lousy connection, bagged it all and decided to distract cranky 3 year-old by making Christmas cookies, mildy noted to self that to do that in this heat means I must really love my kids and Jesus, Tony came home from Gendarmeria visit with milk before car goes into lock-down again, sat and discussed Christmas plans with husband while drinking terere, informed by son that I'm being "first class" (as in on the Titanic) by not wanting to turn on the oven to bake said cookies in 91 degree heat no air conditioning, further reminded by 11 year-old that "this is South America, you know", broke down and turned the oven on, almost 3 year-old burns herself on hot cookie sheet immediately after clear admonition to "Be careful, it's hot!", smoothed some antibiotic ointment on crying child and administered half shot of bubble gum flavored Ibuprofen, attempt to distract crying child again by frosting cookies, it works yay, it's now 8:00 and wondering what to make for dinner, momentarily annoyed upon remembering that we still hear from the natives, "You eat this early?" um yeah, 8, real early..., facing doubts about ability to handle Saturday's forcast of 99, youth group leaders pop in to pick Tony up to film skit for Christmas presentation, we drink more terere and hot mate, decide family will have to survive on hot dogs and left over pasta because it's just not right to cook in this heat, realize not for the first time that I suck at self control so let's just eat more cookies, bored and increasingly frustrated at the thought of being housebound one more day and not having our car ready to do anything mission-y for Christmas. Sigh.
Time for another cookie. The end.
RANDOM NIGHT
I pop some meat in the oven at 7, hoping to eat by 8. It was 100 today, and we lost electricity. Meaning we lost use of our fans, too. But light is back and it has cooled down to 90. Visitors drop in at 8 so dinner is postponed til whenever they leave. It is Marcelo and his wife and family. They walk over from the neighborhood next door. Some call it a slum. Some are nicer and call it a "needy neighborhood". We have to drive through it to get to our neighborhood. Tony says it's not a place you want to be at night. Argentines here have said to me, "You (looking at me), don't even show your face there after dark".
Marcelo works construction next door, they are building an apartment building there. Marcelo's wife, Yoli, stopped by last week wanting to talk to Tony. I had given Yoli some kitchen stuff weeks before, of which she was very appreciative since they have very little. She asked Tony, somewhat embarrased and not wanting to bother us, if I had any work for her: cleaning, ironing, taking caring of the kids. Tony said no, we didn't, why? She explains that they returned to Patagonia from their hometown to continue work, but his boss hadn't shown up. Now they are jobless until the site manager returns. He is a week late. A week Marcelo doesn't get paid. They had 50 pesos ($12) in their pocket, no food, and no news about when Marcelo's boss would be coming back so he could begin work again and earn money an income. Tony said not to worry, we will help them in what we can.
As a result, we try to convince Son that he does not need his bureau. Son insists that he is saving it to take back to the United States to sell at a yard sale and make money. We have a very long discussion about why it is not worth shipping it back to the US only to sell it at a yard sale (not touching on the fact that we do not know if we even will be moving back). We try to convince son to give bureau to this family who had very very little, no luck. We buy bureau off son for $40. Son happy. We happy. We give bureau to family in need, stuffing with random pieces of clothing. A win, win. Tony also leaves them $50 for food. Yoli is interested in a Bible, but we don't have one at the moment. Maybe the Gideons can hook us up.
Still standing there outside while meat is cooking in oven, it is now 9 o'clock. I ask Yoli if the furniture we gave her came in handy and she is visibly pleased and says, "Oh, yes." She half smiles and says glancing up, "I thank God above for all of the help you have given us." She then explains that they didn't come to spend New Year's Eve with us because she felt bad that they couldn't afford even a cider to bring over. So they didn't come. It was a bare year for them.
Marcelo and Yoli and family leave. We sit down to juicy meat dinner, slicing into the most amazing beef I think I have ever had, and I think of Yoli and her family. Tony says, "We need to do something for them." We grab our cooler (they do not have a refrigerator) and fill it with yogurt and cans of tuna and juice and Christmas fruit bread, and a tract or two. We pile the kids in the car at 11pm, and slowly drive over dirt and pebble roads to the neighborhood next door.
As we drive, I roll up the windows. It is still almost 90 out, but the kids here are setting off fireworks, the kind that should be set off pointing up, but they point straight across the street. Bright flashes of green and red fly across the street, horizontal, and die in the dry grass beyond.
As we drive, Tony points and says, "See those guys over there? Sitting on the wall? Those are the kind you have to watch out for."
"When we get there, roll up the windows all the way, turn the air conditioning on, and turn off the cell phone. Anyone outside the van can see in and see you have a cell phone and might want to steal it from you."
I repeat the last part about the cell phone back to the kids, one of which is playing something on mine that makes the screen light up bright.
We get there, deliver the cooler stuffed with food. We feel good, not scared, God is with us.
It is more blessed to give than to receive. It is.
Tony says goodbye, I am bummed a little. I wanted to go inside and see where they live. It is very, very small, two kids sleep on a mattress in the kitchen. I remind Tony we have an extra box spring and a flimsy mattress we save for guests. I wonder if they can use it.
We drive slowly, slowly back through their neighborhood to ours. We see young kids running around at midnight alone. The youth gathered in a park void of grass, just dirt. On motorcycles, a four wheeler, walking. Lounging. Some drinking. Some on drugs. Tony beeps and waves and says hi. You need to be friendly here. You hit a child or kill a dog here, you're gone. They'll just lynch you. Residents of the neighborhood nod that, yes, this is true. Drive very slowly here, and smile. Make friends.
One street over and back in our neck of the woods, we take a detour down the diagonal that borders our neighborhood, looking for the dog-sized hares that come out at night to hop down the street that runs along a field. We don't see any. We talk about how it has quickly become completely normal for us to go out for a drive at midnight with our kids, who are, we notice, still wide awake.
These are the days of small beginnings.
December 18, 2011
Karina
Weeks ago we started praying for this little girl named Karina. The youth at church visit and do ministry at a children's home downtown. Anyone at church could offer to "adopt" one of the children to pray for, to visit, and to get a little Christmas present for. We raised our hand and they assigned us Karina.
All we have is a picture that she drew hanging on the fridge. We didn't know how old she is, her story, or anything. All we knew was the size of her hand that she traced on the paper, and that she lives in a home for abused, neglected, and abandoned kids.
Since we have arrived in Neuquen, never having been here before in our lives, we weren't sure what the street kid situation was. God has put it on our hearts to work with kids, amongst many other things we want to do, but getting connected while in essence being stranded at home without a car, has been challenging. So we have been waiting to see how God would work this out.
We'd like to work with street kids, but it doesn't look like there are street kids in Neuquen. We could be wrong - not like we've seen much here so far - but we haven't seen any. In Buenos Aires there are many. Other parts of Argentina as well. Here, not so much. We think it may be in part due to the fact that there is oil in this area. Oil means money. Money means less street kids... maybe? Money in the province also means children's homes instead of streets for homes.
So last week Tony was able to go with the youth to visit the kids and Karina for Christmas (sorry, no pics, he wasn't allowed to take any). The kids and I weren't allowed to go, only one person could visit at a time. Sigh. I feel like I am doing absolutely no ministry here. It's getting kind of frustrating! But there is a time for everything...right? At least that's what my Bible says. I have had my own work here at home so far, I guess - taking care of the kids, supporting Tony in all the ministry stuff he gets to do, and wasting my life away washing dishes by hand and hanging clothes on a clothes line and cleaning cleanig cleaning (I like none of these activities and I find them dreadfully boring. I would love house help. Then I could go out and do something else. But I'm not bitter. Nope. Not a hair.). Maybe we'll be healthy and mobile and be able to come up for a breath of air soon one of these days so Mommy can get out there, too... for now I'll just sit at home and feel frustrated.
So back to Karina.
He said she was about 13 and autisitic.
I got a text message from Tony mid-afternoon which said, "This reminds me of Ecuador. Very hard."
A few years ago we went on a short term mission trip to an orphanage in Ecuador. 100 kids, all abused, neglected, and abandoned. They all come to the home out of tragedy. All their stories are sad, all of them. Sexually abused, beaten, abandoned to the streets to eat trash, neglected, babies literally thrown in the trash. The children's home here is no different.
Tony said that the kids just threw themselves at him and their visitors, wrapping their needy little arms around his neck for hugs and hanging on them, refusing to let go. You have to peel them off. Starved for love. Starved for affection. Starved for attention. What did Jesus say about children...? Tony had to hold back the tears many times during the afternoon. A lot of the kids either seemed to be autistic, or appeared to have mental problems. Tony seemed to think that more than a few are that way because of the abuse they've lived through, not because they were born that way. He was pretty sure of it.
About mid-way through their visit (which lasted 5 or 6 hours), they handed out Christmas presents. We got Karina some nail polish, a bracelet and some candy. Not much, but the kids were so happy and so appreciative. Tony noticed a boy, about 12 or 13, who didn't get anything. He was new to the home, so wasn't on the list for presents. When he saw he didn't get a present, he went off to a corner and burst into tears. Tony saw it and ran out to the nearest store to buy him a present. He came back and gave him a hat, a necklace, some chocolate, and some candy. He said he brightened right up.
Then they played soccer in whatever ratty shoes they had and did some activities. I'm not sure if they shared the gospel so much in words as they did in action.
For years I've wanted to do away with Christmas presents at our house. Just a personal conviction. I hate the materialism of Christmas. I hate that my kids (well, not all of them, but at least one that I can think of) think that Christmas is about "Me, Me, Me" and "What am I getting for Christmas??" and, "What are you buying me for Christmas??" - instead of - "What can we GIVE for Christmas? What can we give to JESUS, who gave everything for us??"
I wholeheartedly agree with THIS POST. All I can say is, Yes, yes, and YES! That about sums up how I feel regarding Christmas, and Christmas presents.
So, the next day after visiting the kids at the home, and because we finally have a car (wll, semi-sort of... it actually doesn't have plates yet...even though it's been released from customs... so it's a little sketchy driving it until the registration goes through: Welcome to Argentina... :)), we went to the store to buy something for the kids for Christmas.
We started and ended our Christmas shopping in about an hour, a week before Christmas. It was fabulous. And an hour more than I like to do for Christmas shopping. I confess, I can't stand Christmas shopping.
Mom-mom and Grandpa sent some Christmas money for the kids with instructions to buy something for each, from them. They each picked two things out, one from each grandparent, and that was it. Tony looked at me in the middle of the isle and said, "So, one thing each from each, and nothing from us, right?"
YES!
Finally.
We get it! We're getting it! We're really, really getting it. An answer to prayer. I've wanted it this way for years. I'm so happy.
Christmas is about giving, not getting. Harder to do than it sounds. It's HARD to fight against the flesh and our wants and our greed and our supposed "needs". Even against the natural desire we have to give our kids the best. Sometimes the best is less, not more. Or in our case, nothing, yet everything.
Little by little we are stepping closer heavenward. With our feeble feet, tripping along the way, little by little we are getting there... I think we are getting there.
[By the way, if you give your kids tons of Christmas presents, I don't think that's bad or wrong or evil. We've certainly done it. This is just something I'VE always wanted for Christmas. And I guess we'll see if my husband feels this way next year. Like a good Father, he likes to give gifts, too.]
All we have is a picture that she drew hanging on the fridge. We didn't know how old she is, her story, or anything. All we knew was the size of her hand that she traced on the paper, and that she lives in a home for abused, neglected, and abandoned kids.
Since we have arrived in Neuquen, never having been here before in our lives, we weren't sure what the street kid situation was. God has put it on our hearts to work with kids, amongst many other things we want to do, but getting connected while in essence being stranded at home without a car, has been challenging. So we have been waiting to see how God would work this out.
We'd like to work with street kids, but it doesn't look like there are street kids in Neuquen. We could be wrong - not like we've seen much here so far - but we haven't seen any. In Buenos Aires there are many. Other parts of Argentina as well. Here, not so much. We think it may be in part due to the fact that there is oil in this area. Oil means money. Money means less street kids... maybe? Money in the province also means children's homes instead of streets for homes.
So last week Tony was able to go with the youth to visit the kids and Karina for Christmas (sorry, no pics, he wasn't allowed to take any). The kids and I weren't allowed to go, only one person could visit at a time. Sigh. I feel like I am doing absolutely no ministry here. It's getting kind of frustrating! But there is a time for everything...right? At least that's what my Bible says. I have had my own work here at home so far, I guess - taking care of the kids, supporting Tony in all the ministry stuff he gets to do, and wasting my life away washing dishes by hand and hanging clothes on a clothes line and cleaning cleanig cleaning (I like none of these activities and I find them dreadfully boring. I would love house help. Then I could go out and do something else. But I'm not bitter. Nope. Not a hair.). Maybe we'll be healthy and mobile and be able to come up for a breath of air soon one of these days so Mommy can get out there, too... for now I'll just sit at home and feel frustrated.
So back to Karina.
He said she was about 13 and autisitic.
I got a text message from Tony mid-afternoon which said, "This reminds me of Ecuador. Very hard."
A few years ago we went on a short term mission trip to an orphanage in Ecuador. 100 kids, all abused, neglected, and abandoned. They all come to the home out of tragedy. All their stories are sad, all of them. Sexually abused, beaten, abandoned to the streets to eat trash, neglected, babies literally thrown in the trash. The children's home here is no different.
Tony said that the kids just threw themselves at him and their visitors, wrapping their needy little arms around his neck for hugs and hanging on them, refusing to let go. You have to peel them off. Starved for love. Starved for affection. Starved for attention. What did Jesus say about children...? Tony had to hold back the tears many times during the afternoon. A lot of the kids either seemed to be autistic, or appeared to have mental problems. Tony seemed to think that more than a few are that way because of the abuse they've lived through, not because they were born that way. He was pretty sure of it.
About mid-way through their visit (which lasted 5 or 6 hours), they handed out Christmas presents. We got Karina some nail polish, a bracelet and some candy. Not much, but the kids were so happy and so appreciative. Tony noticed a boy, about 12 or 13, who didn't get anything. He was new to the home, so wasn't on the list for presents. When he saw he didn't get a present, he went off to a corner and burst into tears. Tony saw it and ran out to the nearest store to buy him a present. He came back and gave him a hat, a necklace, some chocolate, and some candy. He said he brightened right up.
Then they played soccer in whatever ratty shoes they had and did some activities. I'm not sure if they shared the gospel so much in words as they did in action.
For years I've wanted to do away with Christmas presents at our house. Just a personal conviction. I hate the materialism of Christmas. I hate that my kids (well, not all of them, but at least one that I can think of) think that Christmas is about "Me, Me, Me" and "What am I getting for Christmas??" and, "What are you buying me for Christmas??" - instead of - "What can we GIVE for Christmas? What can we give to JESUS, who gave everything for us??"
I wholeheartedly agree with THIS POST. All I can say is, Yes, yes, and YES! That about sums up how I feel regarding Christmas, and Christmas presents.
So, the next day after visiting the kids at the home, and because we finally have a car (wll, semi-sort of... it actually doesn't have plates yet...even though it's been released from customs... so it's a little sketchy driving it until the registration goes through: Welcome to Argentina... :)), we went to the store to buy something for the kids for Christmas.
We started and ended our Christmas shopping in about an hour, a week before Christmas. It was fabulous. And an hour more than I like to do for Christmas shopping. I confess, I can't stand Christmas shopping.
Mom-mom and Grandpa sent some Christmas money for the kids with instructions to buy something for each, from them. They each picked two things out, one from each grandparent, and that was it. Tony looked at me in the middle of the isle and said, "So, one thing each from each, and nothing from us, right?"
YES!
Finally.
We get it! We're getting it! We're really, really getting it. An answer to prayer. I've wanted it this way for years. I'm so happy.
Christmas is about giving, not getting. Harder to do than it sounds. It's HARD to fight against the flesh and our wants and our greed and our supposed "needs". Even against the natural desire we have to give our kids the best. Sometimes the best is less, not more. Or in our case, nothing, yet everything.
Little by little we are stepping closer heavenward. With our feeble feet, tripping along the way, little by little we are getting there... I think we are getting there.
[By the way, if you give your kids tons of Christmas presents, I don't think that's bad or wrong or evil. We've certainly done it. This is just something I'VE always wanted for Christmas. And I guess we'll see if my husband feels this way next year. Like a good Father, he likes to give gifts, too.]
November 19, 2011
just a few pics from this week
I'm sitting here on the edge of the bed, by the window, holding the laptop at various and sometimes elevated angles, just to catch a signal - something I do every time I want to do the internet. Sometimes it works, sometimes it's doesn't. Let's see...
Me, what have I been doing? Oh, I'm busy wiping noses, hanging laundry (no clothes dryers here, nosirree), washing dishes by hand (such suffering!), and sweaping and dusting the whole house a mininum of twice a day due to the dust and ash that blows in the windows. Exciting, evangelistic stuff. I know, you're jealous. You're thinking, Wow, I wish I had her life. I know, I know, it's tough not to envy me and my amazing life.
This week I reached three kids for Christ. I made brownies. Hey, happy kids, happy mommy. We ignored the boxes that needed unpacking, the heat, and the fact that we still don't have fans and the oven would make the kitchen a bit more toasty than it already is, and dug into our precious chocolate chip and brown sugar stash to escape reality for a bit by drowning ourselves in butter and sugar and chocolate. It was worth it.
Sorry, no pics of the finished product... they were gone way too soon.
It was like Christmas! Here I was a little worried about how we're not able to do "normal homeschooing" like all our good and diligent and disciplined homeschooling friends back home, but just hide the books for a couple of months and then voila! All of a sudden they're eating up the Classics. {Oh, yeah, and blowing out the big screen TV works, too.}
My boy actually read his first non-fiction book this week all on his own: 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. I couldn't believe it! My girl read Anne of Green Gables, Black Beauty, and Grimm's Fairy Tales. Great Illustrated Classics are a great way to ease them into good literature. The pictures and shorter versions are working for us.
And by far my favorite picture...
 |
| Tony freelanced a lot this week, thanks be to Jesus - here he is covering the news around the city |
 |
| since the Mission Mobile is currently on lock down, he rode one of our donated bikes 8 miles one way in 90 degree heat to work, then back again 12 hours later. one does what one has to do. |
 |
| freelancing for a production company somewhere way out in the middle of nowhere Neuquen Province (he clearly gets to do all the fun stuff) |
Me, what have I been doing? Oh, I'm busy wiping noses, hanging laundry (no clothes dryers here, nosirree), washing dishes by hand (such suffering!), and sweaping and dusting the whole house a mininum of twice a day due to the dust and ash that blows in the windows. Exciting, evangelistic stuff. I know, you're jealous. You're thinking, Wow, I wish I had her life. I know, I know, it's tough not to envy me and my amazing life.
This week I reached three kids for Christ. I made brownies. Hey, happy kids, happy mommy. We ignored the boxes that needed unpacking, the heat, and the fact that we still don't have fans and the oven would make the kitchen a bit more toasty than it already is, and dug into our precious chocolate chip and brown sugar stash to escape reality for a bit by drowning ourselves in butter and sugar and chocolate. It was worth it.
Sorry, no pics of the finished product... they were gone way too soon.
 |
| got some of my extra kitchen stuff together to give to Yoli, the wife of one of the construction guys next door who came here from Mendoza with barely a thing to even cook with. it feels good to give. (hey Denise, see your cups??) |
 |
| met and talked with Enzo about going down to help him do some sort of Christmas outreach in Bariloche - he is an artist and the church's contact there who lives and works in a very poor and pretty rough neighborhood reaching the community with change for Christ by teaching art |
 |
| we shared our testimonies with the youth group - great group of kids - half of them are first generation Christians that have been reached through the church's Christian school |
 |
| getting to know the church better - they're still pretty awesome |
 |
| finally unpacked some books (shudder with happy goodness)... ah, you're never alone with a good book |
My boy actually read his first non-fiction book this week all on his own: 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. I couldn't believe it! My girl read Anne of Green Gables, Black Beauty, and Grimm's Fairy Tales. Great Illustrated Classics are a great way to ease them into good literature. The pictures and shorter versions are working for us.
And by far my favorite picture...
 |
| seatbelts and car seat optional! (and this is the pastor's wife... they're a fun bunch! lol) |
May 9, 2011
if I wrote a letter to my mother
Thinking of leaving, and thinking of all we are leaving behind, I think of my mother. My parents, my whole family, my friends - we are leaving them all. It's hard, it really is. My parents are older - in their sixties and late seventies. I can see they are aging. Their health is relatively good, but that doesn't mean it will be tomorrow. That worries me a little. The hardest thing about leaving is knowing how sad this makes them. I don't want to hurt my parents. It makes me sad that this makes them sad. I don't blame them, though. I can imagine how I would feel if my daughter told me she was leaving the country, maybe forever, with my three grandchildren, and moving half way across the world to live a life of danger and sacrifice in order to do missions in a third world country.
I love my mom. She gave me life. I am forever indebted to her. So, after my husband brought me coffee in bed on Mother's Day (I don't need much more than that), we went over to my mom's to wash her clothes, clean out her garage, fill up her bird feeders, cook her lunch, and wash her dishes. I can't think of a better way to spend my Mother's Day than showing my mom how much I love her and appreciate all she's done for me in my life. I will miss her so much! I am so sad for my own kids who ADORE their Mom-Mom. In their eyes, she is just perfect. Mom-mom can do no wrong, and that's just the way I like it. I do hope we can come back and visit. But, even with that, we have to trust the Lord. I can't imagine having the money to come back at all, but we do pray we can at some point.
If I were to write a letter to my mother, this is what I would write. Hudson Taylor, famous missionary to China, wrote this letter to his mother. He sailed for China and never saw her again. We have it easy compared to Hudson Taylor's day. He put my feelings into words perfectly in this following letter to his mother:
"Do not let anything unsettle you, dear Mother. Missionary work is indeed the noblest mortals can engage in. We certainly cannot be insensible to the ties of nature, but should we not rejoice when we have anything we can give up for the Saviour? . . .
Continue to pray for me, dear Mother. Though comfortable as regards temporal matters, and happy and thankful, I feel I need your prayers. . . . Oh Mother, I cannot tell you, I cannot describe how I long to be a missionary; to carry the Glad Tidings to poor, perishing sinners; to spend and be spent for Him who died for me! . . . Think, Mother, of twelve millions - a number so great that it is impossible to realize it - yes, twelve million souls in China, every year, passing without God and without hope into eternity . . Oh, let us look with compassion on this multitude! God has been merciful to us; let us be like Him. . . .
I must conclude. Would you not give up all for Jesus who died for you? Yes, Mother, I know you would. God be with you and comfort you. Must I leave as soon as I can save money enough to go? I feel as if I could not live, if something is not done for China."
I love my mom. She gave me life. I am forever indebted to her. So, after my husband brought me coffee in bed on Mother's Day (I don't need much more than that), we went over to my mom's to wash her clothes, clean out her garage, fill up her bird feeders, cook her lunch, and wash her dishes. I can't think of a better way to spend my Mother's Day than showing my mom how much I love her and appreciate all she's done for me in my life. I will miss her so much! I am so sad for my own kids who ADORE their Mom-Mom. In their eyes, she is just perfect. Mom-mom can do no wrong, and that's just the way I like it. I do hope we can come back and visit. But, even with that, we have to trust the Lord. I can't imagine having the money to come back at all, but we do pray we can at some point.
If I were to write a letter to my mother, this is what I would write. Hudson Taylor, famous missionary to China, wrote this letter to his mother. He sailed for China and never saw her again. We have it easy compared to Hudson Taylor's day. He put my feelings into words perfectly in this following letter to his mother:
"Do not let anything unsettle you, dear Mother. Missionary work is indeed the noblest mortals can engage in. We certainly cannot be insensible to the ties of nature, but should we not rejoice when we have anything we can give up for the Saviour? . . .
Continue to pray for me, dear Mother. Though comfortable as regards temporal matters, and happy and thankful, I feel I need your prayers. . . . Oh Mother, I cannot tell you, I cannot describe how I long to be a missionary; to carry the Glad Tidings to poor, perishing sinners; to spend and be spent for Him who died for me! . . . Think, Mother, of twelve millions - a number so great that it is impossible to realize it - yes, twelve million souls in China, every year, passing without God and without hope into eternity . . Oh, let us look with compassion on this multitude! God has been merciful to us; let us be like Him. . . .
I must conclude. Would you not give up all for Jesus who died for you? Yes, Mother, I know you would. God be with you and comfort you. Must I leave as soon as I can save money enough to go? I feel as if I could not live, if something is not done for China."
~ from Hudson Taylor's Spiritual Secret
December 6, 2010
For Parents
Imagine you and your spouse receiving this letter from a young man bold enough ask for your daughter's hand in marriage:
"I have now to ask whether you can consent to part with your daughter early next spring to see her no more in this world. Whether you can consent to her departure for a heathen land, and her subjection to the hardships and sufferings of a missionary life. Whether you can consent to her exposure to the dangers of the ocean, to the fatal influence of the southern climate of India; to every kind of want and distress, to degradation, insult, persecution, and perhaps a violent death. Can you consent to all this for the sake of Him who died for her and for you?"
(Kind of puts parenting into perspective, doesn't it?)
This is an excerpt of a letter written by Adoniram Judson (1788-1850), missionary to Burma, to the father and mother of Ann Hasseltine, whom he would later marry and take with him to the mission field. Ann Hasseltine Judson was later to suffer most of the things Adoniram mentioned in this letter. She buried both her infant children, then died herself at the age of 37 on foreign soil.*
It took Adoniram Judson 24 full years to translate the entire Bible into Burmese. It is, to this day, the only translation of the Bible into the Burmese language.
*Great Women of the Christian Faith by Edith Deen
[Photo credit: National Geographic]
"I have now to ask whether you can consent to part with your daughter early next spring to see her no more in this world. Whether you can consent to her departure for a heathen land, and her subjection to the hardships and sufferings of a missionary life. Whether you can consent to her exposure to the dangers of the ocean, to the fatal influence of the southern climate of India; to every kind of want and distress, to degradation, insult, persecution, and perhaps a violent death. Can you consent to all this for the sake of Him who died for her and for you?"
(Kind of puts parenting into perspective, doesn't it?)
 |
| Burma, aka Myanmar [photo credit: Hartfried Schmid] |
This is an excerpt of a letter written by Adoniram Judson (1788-1850), missionary to Burma, to the father and mother of Ann Hasseltine, whom he would later marry and take with him to the mission field. Ann Hasseltine Judson was later to suffer most of the things Adoniram mentioned in this letter. She buried both her infant children, then died herself at the age of 37 on foreign soil.*
It took Adoniram Judson 24 full years to translate the entire Bible into Burmese. It is, to this day, the only translation of the Bible into the Burmese language.
*Great Women of the Christian Faith by Edith Deen
[Photo credit: National Geographic]
November 8, 2010
Teaching Art in the Homeschool
I groan inwardly at the thought of doing Art or Crafts with my kids. Fortunately for me, my son could care less about either. My daughter, on the other hand, LOVES to create things. And she often seems to want me to do them with her.
So my idea of teaching Art (of which I am utterly inadequate to do), Money Management (according to Tony, same), and Selfless Giving (meaning the world does not in fact revolve around you) is taking my daughter to Color Me Mine, and suggesting she use her own money to make something for someone else.
On the way I said, "Honey, you know I don't like to do crafts." (Gasp from the back seat). "But, I'm doing this for you. That's what love is. When you do something you don't like for someone else because they want you to do it. You set aside how you feel about something and you do it anyway because you love them."
Once there, Dear Daughter decided to paint a unicorn bank so she can have place in which to save her money. She also picked a cat bowl to give to Mom-mom for her cat, who loves cats. Anything cats. DD picked the colors, and I was drafted to paint.
So that takes care of Art for the next 6 months at our house. For me, anyway. But, I am sure, my dear, sweet, artsy-craftsy, most adorable daughter will surely try to drag me back there within the month. I'll just keep answering, "Save your money - then we can go!"
:)
October 21, 2010
Why I Homeschool Part II & the Myth of Me Time
I posted this video several months ago as one of the many reasons I homeschool. But that's just one reason - there are so, so many reasons we have chosen to homeschool.
Recently someone expressed their concern to me that I don't get any "me" time. And maybe that's why I get migraines? Because I am overwhelmed and stressed out... perhaps??
So I was confronted again by the question, "Why DO I homeschool?". Wouldn't life be so much easier if I just put them in school and let someone else do it?
When I strip away all the many reasons we homeschool, I find myself with only one answer: God called me to do this. I know He did. And until He calls me to not do it, or to do something else, this is what we're doing.
When you know God is calling you to something, that silences all the other voices and leaves no argument. Even people who love you and want the best for you (ie., more "Me" time), perhaps even other Christians, won't always agree or fully support you. And that's okay. God is not, after all, calling them. He's calling you.
So, that is why I homeschool. God called me to do it a half dozen years ago. And He called me to do it because I knew He was also calling us to be missionaries, and I could not shirk the conviction that someday I would maybe need to know how to do it.
Would I love more "Me Time"? Yes. Would I love more "rest"? Yes. Is it okay for Mom to go out alone or away for a night or a few days? Of course.
I think for me it's just being happy with my lot and not falling into believing the "Me Time" myth. To me, "Me Time" ceased to exist once that first little baby was born. I was not even a Christian then, so this is not a Christian argument I'm making, it's just the reality of parenthood. When that first baby is born, "Me Time" is a lie we just need to put away and stop believing. Not that you can't get a break or some rest here and there when needed, but now it is not all about YOU. It's about the child who did not ask to come into this world and NEEDS tons of time, energy, love, feeding, clothing, bathing, attention, affection; and later, conversation, education, relationship, friendships, respect, understanding, sensitivity, compassion, grace and a million other things. I guess I just don't believe it's all about ME anymore.
What's more, when I gave my life to Christ, I died. Galatians 2:20 tells me so,
"I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me."
Chris died. The old Chris is dead. Chris no longer lives. Christ lives in me. This life I live is not my own, but Christ living through me, willing in me to do of his good pleasure. Bringing about His will here on earth through me, as it is in heaven. As I yield to His will and obey, his kingdom comes, His will is done. And I'm not just talking about homeschooling. It could be anything. This is what I believe. Can I expect to see His kingdom and His glory if He has spoken to me on an issue and I choose not to obey, saying, "Oh well, He is sovereign. God will work it out anyway."?
Will we ever put them in school? I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. I do know that one day, when they are ready, when they have labored and served alongside us, when the ship is built strong, after years in the safety of the harbor, they will be sent out. I don't know if they will be 7 or 12 or 17. But storms will come, they will be tossed about, the waves may get high and unrelenting. Our hope is that the ship is well built, fortified, attention to detail over the years having served to strengthen its frame so the ship does not completely come apart in the storm. That's life. I would never think to send an unfinished ship out into the hostile ocean alone. That is what public school is to me. Hostile. And we can't be there guiding them, helping them, supporting them. Kids are killing themselves today in that environment.
Yes, some kids do fine in school. There are success stories. But statistically, 70-80% of public schooled children from Christian homes walk away from their faith by the time they are 20. Why would I want to take that kind of a chance with the most precious things given to me in this life, my kids? What good is it to gain the "whole world" but lose their little souls? So my house is not perfectly clean, so what? So I haven't had lunch with a friend in years. So? So I have to get up at 5am if I want to go to the gym. Is that what I would get if I sent them off? A perfectly clean house, lunch with a friend, and a relaxed time at the gym all day? Yay, me.
And so here we are. Off to a place where there are probably no schools in English, quite possibly no Christian schools, and the public school option is not any more appealing there than it is to me here.
God knows what He's doing, He knows the plans He has for us, and if we simply trust and follow, He gives us the grace to do it. It's not easy, no one said it would be. Jesus never said it would be. I believe he said, "there will be trouble". Sometimes it's easy, but sometimes it's not. Being a Christian is hard. Going against the flow is hard. Swimming upstream when everyone else is swimming down is work. It's a supernatural thing to follow Christ, and we are empowered from on high to do it.
I LOVE that my 10 year old son thinks it's fun to sing "Ring Around the Rosey" with his 7 and 1 yo old sisters, as they hold hands and dance in a circle. He has no idea that this is "not cool".
I LOVE to see my son fall all over himself to fill Mom-mom's bird feeders because she can't, because she just had surgery on her hand. I love that we can do this in the middle of a weekday because he is NOT in school.
I LOVE that we can take off when someone is sick, or it's their birthday, or something comes up. I love that I don't have to ask anyone's permission or sign any slips.
I LOVE that I can come across my 7 year old curled up with a copy of Pride and Prejudice on the sofa and I didn't make her do it.
I LOVE that my son can argue Creation versus Evolution better than I can, and give facts to support his argument, while blowing the rest of us out of the water with big words like Struthiomimus, Dienotherium, and Indrichotherium.
I LOVE that my kids reach for a book before they reach for breakfast.
I LOVE that I don't have to rush them out the door before 9am and they can leisurely enjoy a homemade (well, okay, maybe not always:) breakfast.
I LOVE that they are not coming home and asking me what (insert any number of bad words here) mean. I love that their "innocence" can linger for a bit longer in a corrupt world, that truth and goodness can sink way down deep and become a part of them before they are asked to defend something they may not yet fully believe or understand.
I LOVE that we can take off on a field trip for an entire day, or a mission trip for weeks, and call it school. Because it is.
I LOVE that "socialization" is not confined to a class of 25-30 other kids their own age, but means anything from playing with babies to visiting old people at nursing homes, and everything in between.
I LOVE that we are going to read Shakespeare while still in "elementary school". Because we can.
I LOVE that we can go off to Patagonia for a few years (or more) to do missions and not have to worry about their education. We just take it with them.
I love so many things about homeschooling and I'm so thankful that I can do it. It's what we are called to do. The academics are great and yes, I do think that for my kids it's a better education than public or even private school - but most importantly, it's what he LORD is calling us to do and I am happiest doing His will. It is always best. I would never tell someone they NEED to do what we do, but I would encourage anyone to try it. It really is tons of fun.
I don't know if we could ever go back!
:)
Recently someone expressed their concern to me that I don't get any "me" time. And maybe that's why I get migraines? Because I am overwhelmed and stressed out... perhaps??
So I was confronted again by the question, "Why DO I homeschool?". Wouldn't life be so much easier if I just put them in school and let someone else do it?
When I strip away all the many reasons we homeschool, I find myself with only one answer: God called me to do this. I know He did. And until He calls me to not do it, or to do something else, this is what we're doing.
When you know God is calling you to something, that silences all the other voices and leaves no argument. Even people who love you and want the best for you (ie., more "Me" time), perhaps even other Christians, won't always agree or fully support you. And that's okay. God is not, after all, calling them. He's calling you.
So, that is why I homeschool. God called me to do it a half dozen years ago. And He called me to do it because I knew He was also calling us to be missionaries, and I could not shirk the conviction that someday I would maybe need to know how to do it.
Would I love more "Me Time"? Yes. Would I love more "rest"? Yes. Is it okay for Mom to go out alone or away for a night or a few days? Of course.
I think for me it's just being happy with my lot and not falling into believing the "Me Time" myth. To me, "Me Time" ceased to exist once that first little baby was born. I was not even a Christian then, so this is not a Christian argument I'm making, it's just the reality of parenthood. When that first baby is born, "Me Time" is a lie we just need to put away and stop believing. Not that you can't get a break or some rest here and there when needed, but now it is not all about YOU. It's about the child who did not ask to come into this world and NEEDS tons of time, energy, love, feeding, clothing, bathing, attention, affection; and later, conversation, education, relationship, friendships, respect, understanding, sensitivity, compassion, grace and a million other things. I guess I just don't believe it's all about ME anymore.
What's more, when I gave my life to Christ, I died. Galatians 2:20 tells me so,
"I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me."
Chris died. The old Chris is dead. Chris no longer lives. Christ lives in me. This life I live is not my own, but Christ living through me, willing in me to do of his good pleasure. Bringing about His will here on earth through me, as it is in heaven. As I yield to His will and obey, his kingdom comes, His will is done. And I'm not just talking about homeschooling. It could be anything. This is what I believe. Can I expect to see His kingdom and His glory if He has spoken to me on an issue and I choose not to obey, saying, "Oh well, He is sovereign. God will work it out anyway."?
Will we ever put them in school? I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. I do know that one day, when they are ready, when they have labored and served alongside us, when the ship is built strong, after years in the safety of the harbor, they will be sent out. I don't know if they will be 7 or 12 or 17. But storms will come, they will be tossed about, the waves may get high and unrelenting. Our hope is that the ship is well built, fortified, attention to detail over the years having served to strengthen its frame so the ship does not completely come apart in the storm. That's life. I would never think to send an unfinished ship out into the hostile ocean alone. That is what public school is to me. Hostile. And we can't be there guiding them, helping them, supporting them. Kids are killing themselves today in that environment.
Yes, some kids do fine in school. There are success stories. But statistically, 70-80% of public schooled children from Christian homes walk away from their faith by the time they are 20. Why would I want to take that kind of a chance with the most precious things given to me in this life, my kids? What good is it to gain the "whole world" but lose their little souls? So my house is not perfectly clean, so what? So I haven't had lunch with a friend in years. So? So I have to get up at 5am if I want to go to the gym. Is that what I would get if I sent them off? A perfectly clean house, lunch with a friend, and a relaxed time at the gym all day? Yay, me.
And so here we are. Off to a place where there are probably no schools in English, quite possibly no Christian schools, and the public school option is not any more appealing there than it is to me here.
God knows what He's doing, He knows the plans He has for us, and if we simply trust and follow, He gives us the grace to do it. It's not easy, no one said it would be. Jesus never said it would be. I believe he said, "there will be trouble". Sometimes it's easy, but sometimes it's not. Being a Christian is hard. Going against the flow is hard. Swimming upstream when everyone else is swimming down is work. It's a supernatural thing to follow Christ, and we are empowered from on high to do it.
I LOVE that my 10 year old son thinks it's fun to sing "Ring Around the Rosey" with his 7 and 1 yo old sisters, as they hold hands and dance in a circle. He has no idea that this is "not cool".
I LOVE to see my son fall all over himself to fill Mom-mom's bird feeders because she can't, because she just had surgery on her hand. I love that we can do this in the middle of a weekday because he is NOT in school.
I LOVE that we can take off when someone is sick, or it's their birthday, or something comes up. I love that I don't have to ask anyone's permission or sign any slips.
I LOVE that I can come across my 7 year old curled up with a copy of Pride and Prejudice on the sofa and I didn't make her do it.
I LOVE that my son can argue Creation versus Evolution better than I can, and give facts to support his argument, while blowing the rest of us out of the water with big words like Struthiomimus, Dienotherium, and Indrichotherium.
I LOVE that my kids reach for a book before they reach for breakfast.
I LOVE that I don't have to rush them out the door before 9am and they can leisurely enjoy a homemade (well, okay, maybe not always:) breakfast.
I LOVE that they are not coming home and asking me what (insert any number of bad words here) mean. I love that their "innocence" can linger for a bit longer in a corrupt world, that truth and goodness can sink way down deep and become a part of them before they are asked to defend something they may not yet fully believe or understand.
I LOVE that we can take off on a field trip for an entire day, or a mission trip for weeks, and call it school. Because it is.
I LOVE that "socialization" is not confined to a class of 25-30 other kids their own age, but means anything from playing with babies to visiting old people at nursing homes, and everything in between.
I LOVE that we are going to read Shakespeare while still in "elementary school". Because we can.
I LOVE that we can go off to Patagonia for a few years (or more) to do missions and not have to worry about their education. We just take it with them.
I love so many things about homeschooling and I'm so thankful that I can do it. It's what we are called to do. The academics are great and yes, I do think that for my kids it's a better education than public or even private school - but most importantly, it's what he LORD is calling us to do and I am happiest doing His will. It is always best. I would never tell someone they NEED to do what we do, but I would encourage anyone to try it. It really is tons of fun.
I don't know if we could ever go back!
:)
July 17, 2010
Preschoolers and Middle Ages Read-Alouds
Strange combination, I know.
I've been up since 5am (today is a Saturday - this should be proof enough how dramatically my life has changed since baby), planning our studies for this coming year.
I was searching for read alouds for the Middle Ages, and found this.
It's called Preschoolers and Peace.
Preschoolers and Peace?
Now that's funny.
:)
I've been up since 5am (today is a Saturday - this should be proof enough how dramatically my life has changed since baby), planning our studies for this coming year.
I was searching for read alouds for the Middle Ages, and found this.
It's called Preschoolers and Peace.
Preschoolers and Peace?
Now that's funny.
:)
July 10, 2010
Do You Love Me?
"Let us consider one another to provoke unto love and to good works..."
~ Heb. 10:24
two missionary homes amongst an unreached tribe in
the mountains of Papua New Guinea
(click to enlarge and get the full impact, seriously!)
(click to enlarge and get the full impact, seriously!)
This photo impacted me so much I posted in on my Facebook. So I just had to post it here!
It's from my friend's brother's website who in is Papua New Guinea with New Tribes Missions. At this very moment, their family is preparing to enter an unreached tribe with the Gospel of Jesus Christ. I am amazed. Just amazed. How many of us Christians would do this for our God?? I don't even know if I would, and I love Jesus and I love missions!
Imagine, no house in the suburbs, no SUV, no A/C, no hot running water, no running water at all... no internet, no TV, no sports for the kiddies, no dishwasher, no stovetop oven, no corner grocery store, no phone, no cell phone, no iPhone, no iTunes, no Playstation (we don't have those latter things, but most Christians these days I know do) ... makes me think of that verse where Jesus asks, "Do you love me?"
Do we love Jesus more? Do we really? Or do we love our comforts - the "blessings" He has so freely given? I wonder this for myself. I really do. I have always thought that if something were to happen to Tony, that I would love to be a Bible translator for Wycliffe. But would I actually do it? Could I? Of course, I don't want anything to ever happen to the light of my life, the light of our family - but if it were, then I would want to dedicate the years that remain to me to reaching others with the knowledge of Jesus. I would want to do something of eternal significance for my LORD. Not just everyday eternal signifcance. But tremendous eternal significance.
Which brings me to something else that has been on my mind for years: raising my kids. I can't begin to recount the times other Christians have brought up child rearing when the topic of missions comes up.
"But your kids are really little."
"But you have young children."
"But the children..."
But... but.. but...
"But you have young children."
"But the children..."
But... but.. but...
But what? I can raise my children anywhere. That will always be my first and foremost ministry, second to taking care of my husband. I can do that anywhere in the world. I just don't understand the hesitancy. I still honestly, from the bottom of my heart, do not know what people mean when they bring up the "but your kids are young" argument.
Do they mean no little League? Maybe you can help me out here. Do they mean no McDonalds? No playdates with other good christian families? No what? I'm still kind of clueless, but I have been known to be way dense. My husband tells me so often.
Do they mean no little League? Maybe you can help me out here. Do they mean no McDonalds? No playdates with other good christian families? No what? I'm still kind of clueless, but I have been known to be way dense. My husband tells me so often.
Well, and then they are old. Graduated from school. And Tony is still working at the same job. And we're left looking at each other. With what to show for all the years of going to church, and sitting in the same seat, and raising our hands in worship, to a God we swear allegiance and our all in all to? The kids are off to college or marriage or ministry or whatever the Lord has for them. And then what?
Off to foreign lands at 60? Or worse, retirement?
No, thanks. I want to die working for the LORD. Spreading the seeds of the Gospel in places that don't have the blessings of having a church on every corner and a dusty Bible on the shelf in every house. I want to burn out on both ends reaching the lost for the One who gave everything to reach me.
"Oh, LORD, here I am! Send me!"
June 3, 2010
May 22, 2010
Thinking of Homeschooling?
Thinking of homeschooling and wondering how to do it? Veteran homeschooler in need of some new ideas? Click over to this post:
Excellent if you are thinking of homeschooling, excellent if you've been homeschooling for a while...
:)
Excellent if you are thinking of homeschooling, excellent if you've been homeschooling for a while...
:)
May 13, 2010
Spiritual Lessons in the Kitchen
I got the recipe for Resurrection Rolls last year from another homeschool mommy, but colicky baby made it impossible to even consider attempting. So, we tried it this year. Since I find out about 90% of my homeschool/parenting ideas from word of mouth or from a book, thought I'd pass this one on, too...
annointing Jesus' body (marshmallow)
with oil of embalming (melted butter)
and spices (cinnamon and sugar)
wrapping the body in linen cloth (crescent roll dough)
...seal them up and bake in oven (which represents the tomb)...
the empty tomb (marshmallow disappears)!
They are ridiculously delicious and addicting, so be forewarned!
I prayed a prayer for serious patience before we did this... I confess I do not enjoy crafts or cooking with my kids, no matter how hard I try. I keep trying, though. I do it because I love them, plain and simple. Love is action, right? Life is not all about me. I don't know if I'll ever enjoy crafts or flour flying in the kitchen, but I know I'll keep praying until one of two things happens: I begin to like it, or they are fully grown!
:)
April 9, 2010
The Faith Train
(okay, my black background totally throws this off, but you get the point :))
Here is as an excerpt from their website explaining the Faith Train:
"Do Not Depend on Feelings
The promise of God's Word, the Bible - not our feelings - is our authority. The Christian lives by faith (trust) in the trustworthiness of God Himself and His Word. This train diagram illustrates the relationship among fact (God and His Word), faith (our trust in God and His Word), and feeling (the result of our faith and obedience) (John 14:21).
The train will run with or without a caboose. However, it would be useless to attempt to pull the train by the caboose. In the same way, as Christians we do not depend on feelings or emotions, but we place our faith (trust) in the trustworthiness of God and the promises of His Word."
The train will run with or without a caboose. Amen and thank you, Lord, for that!
April 2, 2010
Spring Cleaning and Tire Swings!
I hate cleaning. But I've been inspired. With the warmer temps and sunny skies, and after a loooong winter, I threw open the windows, shook the rugs out, and cleaned the house from top to bottom. Well, almost.
That was yesterday. Today, only half way done, I ran out of inspiration and steam. And everyone seemed to be getting in the way of my grandiose plans to thoroughly clean this pig pen! Baby needy, kids not dressed, baby clingy, M needs shorts all of a sudden (which box are they in, anyway?), Big A now wants (?) to do Math (and doesn't seem to know I have called off formal schooling for the day), Peace Baby is hungry AGAIN, I still need that shower, phone rings, now I'm hungry... oh, look, it's already time for lunch!
And I didn't even do any cleaning yet! No wonder this place is always a mess.
So this is what we did instead: the kids played on the new tire swing SuperPapi made last night after taking the kids on an HOUR LONG TRIP to Home Depot (it was glorious). Sometimes you just need some sunshine and vitamin D after a long winter couped up with each other:
That was yesterday. Today, only half way done, I ran out of inspiration and steam. And everyone seemed to be getting in the way of my grandiose plans to thoroughly clean this pig pen! Baby needy, kids not dressed, baby clingy, M needs shorts all of a sudden (which box are they in, anyway?), Big A now wants (?) to do Math (and doesn't seem to know I have called off formal schooling for the day), Peace Baby is hungry AGAIN, I still need that shower, phone rings, now I'm hungry... oh, look, it's already time for lunch!
And I didn't even do any cleaning yet! No wonder this place is always a mess.
So this is what we did instead: the kids played on the new tire swing SuperPapi made last night after taking the kids on an HOUR LONG TRIP to Home Depot (it was glorious). Sometimes you just need some sunshine and vitamin D after a long winter couped up with each other:
So I was able to count the following for school (this is for those of you that live in strict homeschooling law states like me):
*Physical Education (tire swing)
*Math (check)
*Science (Land Before Time video inspired quite the discussion between Big A and Little M about Cretaceous/Jurassic/Mesawhatever as opposed to Creation, as well as all sorts of "Well, no, I think it's an Allosaurus and not a Giganotasauraus because...")
*Social Studies (check: doing laundry, folding clothes, cleaning, and toddler care are Life Skills they teach in High School, right?? I put that here for now.)
*Language Arts (check: almost every day I have to tell them to put the books down and go. have. breakfast!)
:)
February 19, 2010
Raising Boys
We only have one boy, so we're not experts. But we do seek to be the parents our son needs. It's not easy, and our son has been quite a challenge. But we do our best and pray that God will make up the rest.
As our son nears the double digits, one need of his has become more and more apparent. We see his increasing need to be with Dad. Unfortunately for him, Dad is at work M-F. A noble and honorable thing, of course, but Big A can't exactly go with him. So he's at home with Mom. Well, Mom does her best to raise her boy to be a man, but what Big A really needs, at least at this point, is Dad to teach him to be a man. So Dad does the best he can from the hours of 6-9pm, and on weekends.
As our son nears the double digits, one need of his has become more and more apparent. We see his increasing need to be with Dad. Unfortunately for him, Dad is at work M-F. A noble and honorable thing, of course, but Big A can't exactly go with him. So he's at home with Mom. Well, Mom does her best to raise her boy to be a man, but what Big A really needs, at least at this point, is Dad to teach him to be a man. So Dad does the best he can from the hours of 6-9pm, and on weekends.
I read once that if Mom is the only one raising Junior, don't be surprised if, at 15, Junior acts more like Mom than Dad.
Now, everyone's free to raise their kids as they see fit, I'm not passing judgement or saying there is only one way to do it. I just don't want my son to act like me, that's all. I think Tony's a far better role model. All I know is that we have been entrusted to raise the one boy we've been given. A monumental task. But we, like so many others, are stuck in this modern day merry-go-round where Dad just can't be around as much as we would like.
In my ideal world, I would do the academics with Big A in the morning, then off he would go to do manly things with Dad for the rest of the day. Like work, chop wood, go to Home Depot, fix things, build things, install fences, raise chickens, you know, manly things. Whatever.
Leaving for the mission field is in many ways a blessing. I've often mentioned to Tony over the years how wonderful it would be if Big A could be with him most of the day. The poor kid just seems to wander around the house half the day. It's very taxing for me to find things for him to do. (And no, sending him to public school is not the answer). It's very sad and frustrating when he says things like, "I wish there weren't so many bad people in the world, so I could just go outside and you didn't have to watch me all the time." Well, unfortunately for both of us, there are, and I do. Several times a week we have people walk right across our yard. Like RIGHT across our yard, right passed the above-ground pool, toys, and within feet of the windows. It's creepy, especially when it's some strange guy dressed in shorts in the middle of winter, covered in tattoos, and talking loudly only to himself.
Leaving for the mission field would be a blessing, indeed.
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