Consciousness...Streaming

I'm done bartering with God. House hasn't sold, but I've put my name in writing over the phone, which is as good as my written commitment to teach a writer's workshop class for an hour and a half once a week waaay over on the other side of Hotlanta. I'm really excited about this opportunity and am already seeking ways I can be a blessing to these kids.

In preparation for my class, I've unburied a lost but not forgotten college textbook as well as dusted off my Writing Bible. Lucy Calkin's book The Art of Teaching Writing is my favorite book about a writer's life and about bringing that life into the classroom. It is from this book, in fact, that I borrowed the quote you see on my blog header. One of Calkin's mentorees is Nancie Atwell who authored In the Middle, another fabulous book for the writing teacher.

Aside from my header quote, there are other treasures in Calkin's book:

"James Dickey's definition of a writer--'someone who is enormously taken by things anyone else would walk by'--is an important reminder to those of us who assume that we begin to write by brainstorming ideas, listing topics, and outlining possible directions for a piece. Writing does not begin with deskwork but with lifework" (3).

"Writing [is] not a process of recording details but one of making significance of them" (5).

"And yet, as a writer I have come to know that significance cannot be found, it must be grown. Looking back in my notebook I find a brief entry about how my son Miles uses one of my cotton T-shirts as his 'pretend blanket,' replacing his orginal blanket, which has disintegrated. My inclination is to dismiss the entry as trivial, as something only a mother could care about, but then I remember the writer Vicki Vinton saying, 'It is an illusion that writers live more significant lives than non-writers; the truth is, writers are just more in the habit of finding the significance that is there in their lives'" (7).

[from poet Theodore Roethke] "'If our lives don't feel significant, sometimes it's not our lives, but our response to our lives, which needs to be richer'" (7).

I value the point about the blankie because I have some blankie pictures and words of my own roaming around my head waiting for a perfect blog post. Sometimes I feel I write about nothing, but all of my "nothings" are significant to me, and I hope I write about them in a way that brings significance to the few who read this.

I suppose writing about nothing would be something akin to a show about nothing. I find myself in Seinfeld moments at least several times a week, if not for the mere fact that I utter the words "Serenity now!" quite often throughout the day. There have certainly been moments like that this month with only a skeleton schedule called "Summer School" in play. I am excited to once again begin school with the kids. In fact, I'm contemplating completely changing the daily schedule that I tweaked so carefully. I'd like to incorporate some writing workshop time in my little academy just as I envision for my other endeavor.

It would certainly call for a schedule change. Learning Adventures is the unit study I intend to use this year, and as a unit study, it tosses in a smattering of subjects every day. It's been difficult for me to get a handle on this type of schedule. In the past both in my 2nd grade classroom and in my homeschool, I have always taught one-on-one in the morning and electives together in the afternoon, alternating the days I teach Science and History. This has worked beautifully...not as much prep, not as much changing from one thing to the next. I'm thinking of reworking the unit study to accommodate this same type of schedule. Will take some doing, but since when have I taught any type of curriculum as is?

I talk about schedules a lot, don't I? Sometimes I think I really just need to loosen up. I was discussing this with a friend the other day--how once upon a long, long time ago I envisioned myself as this mom who would be a Fun Mom when she had kids. One who would play Hide-and-Seek on a whim, one who would run out to blow bubbles to elicit giggles, one who would form Playdough into imaginative creatures. But somewhere along the way my smile was frozen into this hard line on my face, my brow furrowed, and I became the Rule Enforcer. I hate being that kind of mom.

I was reminded of the magic of being a kid today at the movies. During the summer, our local theater does free movies every Tuesday and Wednesday mornings. Today we took in Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium. It was a good movie with messages of believing in yourself and of not forgetting to have fun, to find the magic in things. Kind of goes along with that Finding Significance thing in a writer's life...

Burdened

Cancer was something I used to hear my parents talk about. They would discuss their parents' friends who had it. Their parents. My grandparents. It was always the "old folks" who had cancer. And that was acceptable in a way; as a kid, that's what you expected to happen to "old folks." Cancer wasn't supposed to be something that is so familiar, so close.

I lost my sister-in-law to cancer last October (can it already be that 9 months have passed since that day?). And today I received the shocking news that one of my friends was just diagnosed. She is a vivacious, generous, fun child of God. She is a loving wife. She is a dedicated mom to three (her oldest son is exactly to the day the same age as Michael). She is 5 days younger than me.

It's not supposed to be this way.

Wheelin' and Dealin'

"How much for this?" I would inquire, holding up the African souvenir.

"For you, Lady," the vendor would reply, "I give you special price of 2000 francs." His English was halting, yet well constructed from years of practice on a myriad of tourists.

"Oh, that's way too much," I would retort with mock indignation. "I'll give you 1500 francs."

He would feign offense, turn slightly away, and say, "1800, my last price." I would begin to walk away, and he would run up to me, tugging at my arm. "OK, OK, Lady. Last price. 1600 francs." I would agree to the price I wanted in the first place, pay for my souvenir, and move on to the next stall.

The Cocody Market in Abidjan was one of my favorite places to be. I'm not a shopping girl, but this was not your typical mall shopping. It was fun to peruse the souvenirs, but mostly it was fun to barter.

Bartering. That's something I'm sure many of us have done with God. "God, if you'll just give me A, I'll do/never do B again." I made such a deal with God yesterday. And with Chris. Chris is the children's minister at our church and, incidentally, one of my former students. He has also been a minister to inner city kids and teens for many years. He has long been an integral part of Bright Futures Atlanta. Recently, he and the founders of Bright Futures have begun working to create another ministry: a homeschool-type co-op for those teens and pre-teens who take part in Bright Futures.

I took Chris to Learning Things yesterday to check out some curriculum because, well, someone had to make him aware of the Treasure Warehouse Full of Curriculum. In conversation, I may have mentioned to him how much I would love to be a part of this--if only for one day a week--and of course he ran with it.

Believe it or not, when I first began my education to be a teacher, my dream was to work with inner city kids. That dream has been clouded over the years by my complete immersion into suburban living and all but forgotten as I've thrust myself into the job of motherhood. And now here is this Opportunity standing right in front of me.

Back to the wheelin' and dealin'. The problem with this opportunity is that it is quite far away. The other side of Atlanta far away. And if you know Atlanta at all, you know it is a sprawling city with terrible traffic. Anyway, I told Chris if we could sell our house I would help out because we intend to move about a half hour closer to civilization if we can ever unload this house. I felt quite satisfied with my deal--quite like I'd just gotten the price I wanted. Chris said he'd have everyone pray and we'd have the house sold in a week.

While I don't doubt that our prayers can indeed get this house sold in a week, I don't think that God wants me to be making deals with Him. I think He wants me to take steps of faith without the bartering. This is very difficult for me. I have spent so many years in self-reliance, years of making decisions without bringing God in at all. Consequently, I have very little experience in knowing God's will for my life. I mean, those open doors...are they open by chance, because I've led such a charmed life, or because God wants me to walk through them? Are those whispers from His Spirit or my selfish desires? These are common questions that rattle through my brain.

I'm so not good at this. It's really kind of silly because we're only talking one day a week that I would go down and help. And, while I know that raising my kids is my primary ministry right now, I also know that part of that ministry is teaching my children that there is more to life than the little suburban bubble in which we live. This would be a perfect opportunity. So why am I hesitating? I know it is my own selfishness which causes the hesitation. And laziness. That would play a factor too, of course, because saying "yes" would mean some extra planning and organization. And putting myself out there to be involved in others' lives.

I think I already know the answer--that this investment is worth a sacrifice. Why, then, do I still keep wanting to barter?

You Capture - Patriotic

Mark and I always wanted our own volleyball team.

Hence the four kids.

Well, not really...although the subject did come up whenever we discussed our desired family size. Volleyball was our game in high school, and over the years we've lamented the fact that we have no one to play with.

About the time that spring turned into summer this year, we discovered that a group of people from church play every week. We joined them and now not only get to satisfy our volleyball cravings, but we've also gained some really great friends.

We were thrilled that our volleyball friends were able to join us for the 4th of July. We had quite a crowd here and enjoyed great food, swimming, and fellowship. Afterwards we escaped to our park where a sand pit and a net awaited us. The kids were able to see and hear fireworks all around us while we played. A great way to celebrate Independence Day!







For one more patriotic picture and some thoughts on the 4th, see my previous post "What the 4th means to me..."

Bring Your Kid to Work Day

I was enjoying a Girls' Night Out some months ago, and we were all catching up by discussing our husband's jobs. After one of my friends finished explaining what her husband does, she pondered, "But what man likes his job anyway?" I said, "My husband loves his job!" I was met with some questioning looks.

It's true, though. He really does love his job. While he dislikes being away from his family, he does love to travel, so the traveling doesn't bother him. And when he's not traveling, he works upstairs, so he's right here with us. His job also affords him the flexibility to, if he has to be home to help with doctor's appointments or be involved in something with the kids, it's not a problem.

We are so thankful for Mark's job, and we totally get how blessed we are. However, his job does present us with a few concerns as we teach the kids. We've often wondered what, specifically, the kids' perception of a "job" is, a "real" job. I mean, they've never experienced life with a daddy who leaves before they've awoken and doesn't get home until they are in their PJs again. We talk about the variety of jobs and schedules that are out there on the workforce, but we wonder exactly what their expectations are for their future careers. It's a delicate balance teaching them respect for what Daddy does and at the same time teaching them that a job doesn't always entail airplanes, hotels, and hanging out around the house.

Recently, the boys have shown more and more interest in what their daddy does. In fact, a couple of weeks ago, one of them asked why Daddy had never had a "bring your kid to work day." What the kids don't realize is that, if Daddy's home, they are at work with Daddy. And all of those trips we take? I guess while we're at the museum or mall, they don't realize that Daddy is at work. Anyway, Mark wanted to allow the boys to participate in an Official Bring Your Kid to Work Day, so he arranged it with one of his customers.


When they got there, the company owner gave them a quick office/warehouse tour and even explained to them how air purifiers work. Then, lucky for them, they got to take part in a company barbecue.

The boys had a great time. In retrospect, though, and in looking at this picture, I suppose one thing we could teach the children about "real" jobs is proper attire and that flip flops are definitely not part of proper attire. Oh well, we'll get to that lesson next time.

I got some cute pictures...

Today was one of those days when I would much rather have been at the beach or something instead of being responsible. But there is the small matter of four kids. And the fact that I'm their mother. So we visited Grandma and Grandpa. And endured a park in the sweltering heat. Got some cute pictures...

What the 4th Means to Me

I haven't always been a proud American. Growing up, America was a place I visited for a year's furlough. Aside from good-byes from my MK friends, furloughs weren't half bad. A furlough was a year's time to enjoy the conveniences of America, to indulge in McDonald's hamburgers and a plethora of other treat options. Of course, furlough also meant a new school, new people, and a different church almost every week. I enjoyed my time here, but I was always thrilled to be heading back "home".

I still miss Africa, but I have now spent as much of my life in America as in Africa, and, well, America feels like home now. Even as I've learned to call it home, I can't say I have passed all of my time on this side of the ocean with a great deal of patriotism. But my patriotism has certainly grown over the last several years.

I can point to one specific thing that caused an inner awareness about my apathy toward this country and the freedom and opportunity it offers. Shortly after the bombs began to drop in Afghanistan in 2001, I remember watching some sort of Presidential thing honoring soldiers. In it was a slideshow depicting soldiers saying goodbye to their families, the background music of "I'm already there" (Rascal Flatts maybe??) adding to the poignancy of the moment. With tears streaming down my cheeks, I remember experiencing that sudden epiphany: These soldiers are sacrificing potentially everything for MY country, for MY freedom. What an awesome call to service they have.

The 4th of July used to be, for me, just a merry day for fireworks and barbecues. I get it now, though. I get that I live in a great country, a country where I can worship as I want to worship and teach my children in the manner in which I want them taught. Those are freedoms which have come at a cost, and I am grateful for all of those who have paid that price.

Right now I have two friends in my thoughts and prayers whose husbands have been deployed. They are sacrificing too. I thank them from the bottom of my heart. I thank them for what they give up so that their husbands can serve this country. I thank my two friends for their act of service in that sacrifice.

As the celebrations wind down. As the last firecracker pops. As we go about our normal routine tomorrow, I hope we won't forget the freedoms we enjoy here and the people who offer their service for our independence.