It Still Works, Y'all!

 Oh friends  . . . 

It's been so long I wondered if my blog was even accessible! And it is! I have missed writing, but for a while I was such a captive to fear of offending people and also sort of mortified at some of my strong opinions in earlier posts that I felt a bit caught between wondering if I had any wisdom to fuel my writing and fear of offense. How terribly dumb and also maybe wise. I've also not made space to write at length, and have made do with Instagram captions.

And here I am at 40. I have no idea when I started this blog (maybe at 26?), BUT I know I had Xanga at least back in 2004 and that's some serious crazy old school stuff. 

I just read Dispatches from Pluto--it takes place in the Mississippi Delta, which is totally not my stomping grounds. I can think of maybe one time I've been to the Delta. I'm a South Mississippi girl. If you divide the state into fourths, my people and places and things fit neatly between the 1/4 (Hattiesburg) and 1/2 (Jackson) markers.

It's a narrow slice of the state, my Mississippi. Red clay, catfish houses, farms, woods, the prettiest pastures. I'm dreadfully allergic to it, too, so apart from allergy shots, I'm a hopeless case there. And let's not even start on the mosquitos and humidity! My first Texas pastor once told me, "Texas is trying to kill you." Well, I suspect Mississippi is merely content with running me to the ground. 

Oh Texas. I love it. I love the dry climate, the surprise that the Hill Country is. I love the low-pressure culture (at least in our area). I don't miss the pressure of appearance and manners and the social "stuff" of Mississippi--most of the time. 

Mississippi is my people. I hanker to go back. When I go home I feel such belonging and being known. However, with each passing year my longing increases, but I feel less belonging. In fact, home is becoming something I yearn for, but it is no longer a specific place. It is as if every move and place we've lived and person we have loved has taken a bit of me and "home" is no longer in one place anymore. I'm sure the Lord intends it that way--if I can remind myself that what I'm really yearning for is a bit farther up and further in. 

So long . . .

It has been a whole year since I last wrote and a very long time since I wrote regularly. For the last year, I've actually wanted to write, but free time has gone hither and yon and been used wisely and wastefully (social media!). But also, everything online feels so contentious and I don't like online conflict and while I've still got some strong opinions I feel less full of wisdom than every before, I now feel more reluctant to say anything. Who knows where this blog is going to go!

I'm reading several books right now. One is, The Gospel has a House-Key by Rosaria Butterfield. Y'all, I was REALLY grumpy at Tuan for ordering this book. I didn't want to be convicted about hospitality or be challenged and when it came in the mail I opened it and left it on the piano so HE could read it. And then I walked by and picked it up and read from the middle to the last 3/4 without stopping . . . and then I turned to the front and skimmed the first half. Now I'm all convicted and uncomfortable and it's all his fault!

I'm still processing how this applies in my own life. The Butterfields are extraordinarily hospitable (as in EXTRAORDINARILY). Not all of us are called to do it the same way, but as believers we are all called to be hospitable, and I want to do this better. Particularly, I want to be more spontaneous, and invite people into our ordinary life more often, and just be more intentional with gospel conversation. I can have 70 people over for gallons of soup without flinching, but I really have a harder time with just inviting people to join us for regular dinners and life. I also get this mental block about it at times--it can seem daunting, but I REALLY love it when it happens. So, if you are a camp neighbor, and reading this, please just invite yourself over and help a sister out!

This ties in with another book I'm reading, Spiritual Mothering by Susan Hunt. Three other women and I went to a conference where she spoke on Titus 2 discipleship and we all bought the book. I'm so encouraged by what I heard and read and am just pondering a lot and thinking about how I can be more faithful and gospel-centered in my own relationships with women. So many dear women have poured into my life and prayed for me and my family and pointed me to Jesus. I pray that I can do likewise.

This is a wild and wonderful season. Schooling the kids is pretty consuming, but we have turned a corner in life where I am not having to keep my eyes on someone at all times and the kids can go visit friends and I can even run an errand to camp while J babysits. It's a sweet, sweet season with our kiddos and as my older two are on the edge of adolescence, I am just clinging to these days and trying to really enjoy them.

So many wonderful things are happening and going on in our life right now. God is teaching me hard and good lessons and I'm grateful for this "good" season.

This is Why We're We

Morning quiet time . . .  Reading amiably in our chairs.

I speak first. "We should fry things EVERY Friday because its 'FRI-day', get it"

He replies, "absolutely we should." resumes reading, then says thoughtfully,

"I wish we had bought cabbage."

"ME TOO! I had the same thought fifteen minutes ago."

He grabs my hand.

"I love you."

Yes. Indeed. We are but one mind and one way of thinking.

When TV and Real Life Collide

This past spring and summer I got Tuan to watch Friday Night Lights with me. It is a series that just really stuck with me and I wanted Tuan to kind of understand this part of who I was. So, we watched the entire series (skipping most of the stuff with Jason and Lyla, because basically they are the Jack and Kate (LOST) of the show and annoying as all get out and both couples could/should have been written out much earlier on).

Then, we went to family camp and there was a counselor who looked an awful lot like Tyra Collette, which had us tickled. As luck would have it, there was a red-headed kid there that week named Landry!

At one of the activities, Tuan walked up laughing and whispered, "'Tyra' is belaying Landry and keeps saying, 'come on, Landry, you can do it!'".

We got SUCH a kick out of that. I had to write it down for memory's sake.

We also found out after we got back from Glorieta that LONGMIRE is filmed at and around Glorieta and wouldn't ya know, we keep seeing VERY familiar spots as we are watching that series.

Pleasant Places

I tossed and turned a lot last night. Tuan is out of town and I don't sleep well when he's gone. But with each waking in the night, waves of gratefulness kept sweeping over me.

I think that's the theme of this season of my life: gratefulness. After some wild and crazy and hard and good years, where we saw the LORD move in incredible ways to guide and provide for us--even as we struggled with the means of His provision, I'm just so thankful for right now.

Our hearts beat for camping--for serving this gospel ministry and the staff who do it. In the season where the LORD took us away from camping (and provided in amazing ways!), I wrestled so much with contentment and this question: Is Jesus enough? Could I be content just in Him, even if the door to camp never opened again and we stayed in our current situation for the rest of our days? I think I was just beginning to dig into the depths of my heart on the matter when this job was offered. Lots of folks said, "of course you'll go back into camping!" However, I knew that the LORD might not do that, and my heart needed to be okay with his leading. It was a similar situation to the chaplain who told me when Aubrey was in the NICU (and all was uncertain), that "your baby is going to be just fine." Well, no. God hasn't promised those things. Can He? Absolutely. Will He? I don't know. I only know what He has promised in His word.

I'm in a bit of a skeptical place where when I hear outside-the-Bible advice and wisdom, that I question it. "Is what you're so passionate about declaring as true for the mourner, the wounded, the refugee and the oppressed as it is for me?"

So here we are. The Ebenezers are piling up and I'm just savoring HIS kind mercies and graces. It isn't always easy, but its good. I'm deeply thankful that Tuan loves his work and that the kids have friends to play with. I'm thankful for the staff and every chance I get to talk with someone and hear their stories. I'm thankful for a church family to get to know. As the psalmist said, "the lines have fallen for me in pleasant places". Then again, they always have. It's just easier to see it right now.

Preserve me, O God, for in you I take refuge.

  I say to the Lord, “You are my Lord;

I have no good apart from you.”

  As for the saints in the land, they are the excellent ones,

in whom is all my delight.

  The sorrows of those who run after another god shall multiply;

their drink offerings of blood I will not pour out

or ltake their names on my lips.

  The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup;

you hold my lot.

  The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;

indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.

  I bless the Lord who gives me counsel;

in the night also my heart instructs me.

  I have set the Lord always before me;

because he is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken.

             Therefore my heart is glad,              and my whole being rejoices;

my flesh also dwells secure.

  For you will not abandon my soul to Sheol,

or let your holy one see corruption.

  You make known to me the path of life;

in your presence there is fullness of joy;

at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.

Psalm 16

Easy Breezy Artisan Bread For the Laid Back and Frugal Crowd

I have shared a few pictures of our "no-knead, quick, artisan bread" on Instagram and a few people (two!) have asked for the recipe. I thought I would sort of blog it out with pictures if you want the full idea of how this works for me. (I think they asked in JANUARY. So sorry for the delay!)
You know how on Facebook these people post a recipe with the disclaimer "hundreds are asking me for this recipe again, so here it is and share it on your wall so you don't lose it." Well, I'm under no such delusion of grandeur. This one's for Melanie and Carol!

Here's the short and sweet of it. (I can't find the original recipe source, but it has been slightly modified).

In a large bowl or container, combine:

6 Cups warm Water
1.5 TBSP Yeast
1.5 TBSP Salt
1.5 TBSP Sugar

Then, add in 13 cups of bread flour. Stir until just combined, leave loosely covered in a warm place for two hours or until the dough doubles.
Pull off as much as you like, shape into loaves (add extra flour if needed). Place in or on a pan (lined with parchment is best!) and let rise for forty minutes. Store extra dough in the fridge covered with a little bit of gap in your lid for air.

Bake at 485 for 20-30 minutes

The dough keeps for around a week. Anytime you want to bake, remove from the bowl, shape, let rise for 40 minutes and bake 20-30 minutes at 485.

Boom.
It's so easy!

I started doing this when money was a little tight and spending heaps of "dough" on bread was KILLING me. This method is so economical and really stretches our grocery budget. I can get a massive bag of flour for around 8.00 and it lasts many, many batches.

I buy my flour and sea salt and yeast at Sam's. The flour is stored in its own bag, wrapped in very fancy plastic. : ) I want to find a good flour bin, but I'm not shelling out money for a full price one, yet.

The dough is stored in this FANTASTIC, vintage Tupperware cake plate I bought ages ago. It's huge and wonderful. Because it is always is in the fridge, I don't clean it thoroughly between uses and I am convinced the bread tastes better because of it. I scrape it down with my bench scraper and it dissolves into the warm water of the new batch.

To keep it simple, I taped a card with proportions of ingredients, so that when I bake, I don't have to find the recipe card. Mine is kind of janky and sad, so I am providing a printable card for anyone who wants to have a prettier label.

You can use the dough for loaves and boules and baguette shapes and pizza. I think the loaves make a heavenly tomato sandwich. And the wetter the dough, the better. Just flour the outside enough that you can shape it.

It really makes a good pizza dough--knead just a little with flour to not be sticky and then roll it out on a mixture of cornmeal and flour. Sometimes I spread a little olive oil on the crust.

Lining the pans with parchment paper (bulk purchase from Sam's) is a huge help--nothing sticks and I don't have to scrub pans.

We don't eat the bread every day. But I usually start the week out by throwing a batch together on Monday morning and we just have it as we need it all week long. It's so handy to be able to throw a loaf in the oven when I can't figure out/am not prepared for lunch.

Final things. I think every kitchen should have a "bench scraper". It's so helpful for scraping down the sides of the bowl, cleaning a wooden cutting board and moving chopped things. Its one of my my most beloved tools.

The "lastest" thing is that if you had ANY doubt this recipe isn't perfectly suited for Type B folks, let this spoon and cup reassure you. I lost all my measuring spoons in a move, so for the last two years I've been using that soup spoon for my tablespoon measure and I often use that cup for my cup measure . . . and the bread STILL turns out. Every time. Eventually I'll break down and get a new set, but I take a bit of perverse pleasure in not using real measuring spoons.

Happy baking! Let me know if you try this method!

A Lot of Nothing, a Little Something

Dear friend,

I'm not writing to an actual, specific friend, but this is basically a letter to my blog friends. And don't worry, it's not an "open letter" where I make assertions and accusations and tell you what is wrong with you and your church and your subculture. This is a real, honest, old-fashioned letter.

I burned leaves on Sunday afternoon. It's hard for me to be out in the yard for long stretches of times with a little person afoot, who goes in and out of the house and needs supervision, still. So, with Tuan home, I was able to just stand in the yard and fiddle with the fire and the leaves for several hours. It was delightful and restful and I smelled of leaf smoke after, which is Tuan's favorite smell in the whole world. He kept smelling my hair. We are romantic in our own, strange, way!

I kept beginning to think of analogies and life lessons to be found in leaf burning, but in the end, I decided that I simply wanted to burn leaves and not turn it into anything deep. So I burned and fiddled with the fire and thought of a thousand other things and waved at the folks who drove past.

We have been busy with our living room situation. Removing the 1970s paneling, pulling a hundred nails off of the walls, prepping the windows for painting. It's always more work than you expect, but this has definitely taken longer than planned, because life.

The windows are primed and I hope to sand and prime the walls this week. Then we'll be that much closer to Joanna Gaines levels of interior greatness.

I recently read a blog post about how a woman had to turn off Fixer Upper because it brought about discontent in her heart. Oddly enough, it has been the opposite for me. I've been so encouraged by what can be done, that seeing the quick results has bolstered me so much when it seems like we are taking a long time to get things done.

We also ripped out the carpet and linoleum and the the plywood faux subfloor to find the original pine tongue and groove flooring in excellent shape! Whoo-hoo. It's a little bit draftier, but we can don wool socks for the sake of style!

Our housing situation is a wee bit complicated for the blog, but we are living in and fixing up a house that belongs to a very dear and kind friend. The glorious thing is that this is not a "family" house for her. I'm not ripping out "Aunt Myrtle's linoleum that she saved and scrimped for". My friend has little emotional investment in this house, which is a huge blessing. Our house, as I call it for the sake of easy writing, belonged to matriach and patriarch of our road, then their daughter owned it and she is the one who sold it. I hear the most delightful stories about this lady, who is still living, but has family on and near this road. The propane man even raves about her.

My gratefulness about our house owners not being emotionally connected to the house was solidified at a local Christmas party, where I met people who had grown up in the house, or visited the house or had celebrated countless holidays in the house.

As I was introduced as the woman who lived in "M------- K--------'s house", people kept tearing up as they reminisced of the memories and how dear that place was. Whoosh! The burden of southern family heirloom property possession obligation hit. A near relative asked what all we had done, "oh, we renovated the bathroom and are going to pull up the carpet and took the paneling off the living room walls. . . . " {the blush pink painted 1970s paneling!} My audience did not hear me correctly, and said, "oh, yes, she just had that painted a few years back". (whoops!) "but I never did like carpet in a living room" (thinking to self: she didn't catch that I ripped out the freshly painted paneling, but approves of the carpet removal! Victory)

So, I feel a little bit more of an emotional burden than I did, but I do hope they are all pleased with the final results!

In other things: I changed my iphone language to British English, so Siri speaks with a lovely accent and I basically have a butler of my very own. It's the closest I'll ever get to being an aristocrat, so I'll take it.

I also scored a fantastic deal on hams at Kroger the other day. .69 a pound! I stood at the meat case and inspected hams with a fellow mom who I had never met, but who obviously understood the deal we had found. 39.00 hams now 5.00?! I loaded up my buggy like a Supermarket Sweep contestant.

At the register, they rang up at the old price and the cashier, who was MORE than wonderful and kind to me, had obviously been dealing with this all day and called the manager over and then the meat department who had still not entered this price change into the system. She had to manually adjust all the prices of my hams and calls out to the manager (over all the people around the checkout!) "hey! she's buying about eight hams . . . so you know I have to change the price. How many hams you buying? six? no she's buying six hams!" (I was a bit mortified but the customer behind me was very approving).

"I've got a deep freeze and I'm not afraid to use it! Ha. Ha." I said with forced lightness.

Tuan meant to grab a ham sandwich he had prepared to take with him for breakfast on the way to work and grabbed a bundle of ham instead. "I ate every bit", he informed me, "I think I ate ten dollars worth of ham."

That explains why he was not so keen on the ham I prepared for supper.

And that is all I have to say, dear friends. I remain---

yours, affectionately,
Paula

Too Fast

We decorated for Christmas this evening. Our moms had taken the older kids for most of the weekend, leaving me and Rosie all to ourselves.

I was having flash-forwards to when our kids are older and they only come home for the day and leave right after (please don't do that, future La-lings!). It was quiet and lonely.

Then I got used to it and the quiet was a wee bit nice, but boy, I was ready for my peeps to come home today.

We pulled out all of our Christmas boxes and were rather organized and tidy until the ornaments came out and all the crazy broke loose. Decorations were flying hither and yon-landing on whatever surface didn't move.

I turned my back for a moment and icicles were tossed all over the tree like so much spaghetti not stirred in the pot.

It was a glorious chaos. All the extra strands of lights that still worked were hauled off to the bedrooms to decorate in there.

Y'all. It was one of those times as a mom where you just have to stop and take it all in.

No one tells you when you are pregnant for the first time how hard parenting is. Yes, there are dire predictions about the lack of sleep and the physical changes.

But I'm learning that's not the hard part.

No one tells you how you grow to love your children so much you just ache sometimes. 

How the deepest part of you trembles at the thought of someone hurting them and the fear of the world they are growing up in.

The pain of feeling like you've really messed up and made a wrong decision and your kids have to live with the results.

The worry that out of all the choices you could make about activities and schooling and church and social stuff that you might be doing it all wrong.

How you one day look up and see that your baby isn't so much a baby anymore.

The deepest joy of getting to know the incredible little souls God has entrusted you to care for--its sobering.

The delight of seeing them learn and grow in the fear and knowledge of God.

Tonight, Johnny, who is nine, was so fired up and excited and enthusiastic about the decorating that he simply couldn't contain himself. It was beautiful. I started to calm him down, but then I realized that in a few short years that unbridled enthusiasm could be a thing of the past.

So I soaked it up. That's why the otter is wrapped in tinsel and lights and the boys room is decorated with a motley assortment of cast-off lights, and gift-wrap bows are stuck all over the place.

The beauty is in the imperfection this year.

My precious boy. Even as I often pray, "come, Lord Jesus" when I see the craziness of this world,  I'm also begging the Lord to slow this time-thing down. The hurry I was once in to move on to the next stage is quickly evaporating.

We had "party food" for dinner and kicked off Advent with reading, singing and prayer. Owen was answering questions right and left, and Rosie is just excited about it all. Aubrey has planned all sorts of projects for gift-giving. She's got SUCH a generous heart.

This was tonight's reading:

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. 2 The earth was without form and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters.

3 And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. 4 And God saw that the light was good. And God separated the light from the darkness. 5 God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day. Genesis 1:1-5

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.2 He was in the beginning with God. 3 All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made.  John 1:1-3

I keep trying to comment on this passage, but honestly? Its so full of richness that tonight I just can't do much but read and meditate and ponder. 

Stepping Out . . .

Until I hit my late twenties, I had picture-perfect skin. I didn't really know what a pimple really was and didn't do anything to my skin with regularity. Occasionally I washed it. Every now and then I slathered it with petroleum jelly because my grandmother has great skin and does that every night. Oh, but then . . . I hit my late twenties and am now in my mid-thirties and my skin feels like it is making up for lost time. Blemishes . . . the works!

I've tried the oil method and a brand from Ulta. I've tried nothing and then scrubs and drug store brands. And my skin is showing it. The one thing I have yet to try is Rodan and Fields. Until now.

Can I say that I'm stubborn? Sometimes I dig my heels in the ground because I decide I won't try something and because I'm stubborn, I keep on digging those heels.

I finally decided to give R+F a shot and ordered some Unblemish and the Macro Exfoliator. I have watched my good friend Michelle's face just glow from using R+F these last three years. When the Macro Exfoliator came out I was super curious to try it, but also very stubborn. (Is this a pattern? I think it must be).

Y'all I am pacing the floor waiting for this delivery. I'm REALLY excited to try it out. I'm also glad there is a sixty day trial period. As Michelle said, "what have you got to lose?".

I'm also stepping WAY out of my own comfort zone and have signed on as an R+F consultant. The discount was appealing, but after watching how the R+F model has given several friends extra income and hearing Andrew and Michelle's story, I decided to take a leap and see if this is a good fit for us.

I'm super nervous. I'm super excited.

We hope the Lord leads us back into ministry one day. That's our dream-where our hearts beat. Having some extra income to give away and save would be a great benefit now--and then. I'm trusting that the Lord will make it clear to us if this is what he wants us to do.

But for now. I'm taking baby steps. I'm excited to see how Unblemish
helps my skin. Knowing real people who have had incredible results using Rodan and Fields has me excited that perhaps I can someone with bad acne, sun damage, or severely irritated skin find a solution that could really help them feel better about the skin they are in. Or if you've just been curious if a regimen would work for you and want to give it a go, I would love to have you as a customer.

Friends, I'm kind of on a journey of discovering what this looks like for Tuan and me. I'm a writer at heart, so blogging about this feels like natural way for me to leap out of my comfort zone. If you are curious and perhaps have held off giving R+F a try, or are interested in becoming a consultant, I'd love to walk this road together. With sixty days to try it out--and return it if it doesn't work, what have you got to lose?  Let's talk!

Here's my website: paulala.myrandf.com

School Year Thanksgiving

I'm so thankful that our school year is going well. It's been a while since we have not had a school year that involved moving, major surgery, childbirth, pregnancy,  or busy toddlers. Some of those years involved at least three of the above!

In recording this, I hope it's not a bragging post. I am just thankful for a season of success and want be able to one day look back at this ebenezer of sorts.

Homeschooling is interesting because every single person home schools differently. The flip side is that temptation to compare and wonder if you are really doing it right. One friend reads aloud and her children are so well-versed in history that I'm blown away. Another friend does great projects. This other friend has a knock-out fantastic school room and lesson plans. I have no idea what my distinctive is. I just do it. One friend asked if I lesson plan and I laughed because I just open the books and we do the next thing.

Martha Stewart approves of this. I'm sure. It's so styled.
Notice the cord, the pipe, the curtain rod and grabber. They are not used for school.

This is what our "school" looks like this year. Over the years we've had an armoire and a school/play room and a fantastic cabinet. This year it's this bookshelf. I quaked a bit when I saw the beautiful school rooms my Facebook friends have, but that was my sinful comparison at work. Be encouraged that "school" physically looks different for everyone.

My casual hand-writing is so poor,
that I feel like a hypocrite when I correct my children.

I sat down tonight and mapped out the rest of the 2015 calendar to see where we would land progress-wise. It was really encouraging to see that in all of our subjects we would start 2016 right on track or ahead of the game.

Our days are varied, but school falls into these time segments/categories:

Read Aloud/Devotional: I just started making this a priority and am trying to faithfully do this during breakfast. I read an attribute of God and we work on a verse. We read a simple Bible story and pray, then I read aloud--right now it is Winnie the Pooh

Independent Work/Owen's School Time: Johnny and Aubrey do most of their math, language arts and Latin independently. We review Latin together. I watch their math videos with them and answer questions and check their work, but this year, for the first time, they can do this part with little direct supervision. This has been fantastic for travel and for days when we can only get a little bit of work done, or I'm buried in laundry. The best benefit is that Owen gets a solid one-on-one time with me to do phonics and math.

Direct Teaching: I teach science, grammar and history. Johnny and Aubrey are doing the same curriculum, which is a huge help and time saver. Some of Johnny's assignments are harder, but mostly they do the same things. We spend a lot of time on these three subjects.

30 minutes of reading. We just really started this. I naturally loved reading as a kid and never needed to be told to read. Tuan didn't enjoy reading until college and then he became a voracious reader. (Since he was valedictorian and star student, I took that as an encouragement that our kids would be okay if they weren't big readers, yet). Still, I felt like there needed to be some more direction and instituted 30 minutes of reading most days and I get to choose the book. Wonder of wonders, Johnny and Aubrey have taken off. I'm thankful, thankful.

Some days we do school in this order and other days we switch it up. I am thankful that when the weather is nice we can play outside all morning and start school after lunch. Sometimes, the direct teaching happens after dinner if Tuan is working late. I can also take some time to tackle laundry or housework while the big kids do their independent work.

This is the best photo on the whole internet.  That spray bottle!

Tomorrow, being a Monday, I take a little while to get the house caught up from Sunday, so Johnny and Aubrey have a to-do and school list for when they wake up.

Rosie often joins us at the table. She has a basket of math manipulatives to play with and these three Hello Kitty activity books that she refers to as "my school". Rosie takes her school very seriously.

That's the state of our school right now. I'd like to add in a spelling and writing program after Christmas and would love some suggestions. Johnny is wrapping up his language arts book (finally!).

Our year of grammar has put me in a panic about my writing. Now I am feeling stilted and a bit fearful of making a big mistake that will prompt someone to label me an unfit homeschooling mom. Not to mention the pressure to end this whole post well, with excellent writing and a snappy closing statement.

Pressure-rebellion. Over and out.

Breaking Up is Hard to Do, or Homeschooling These Days

I was talking with a friend the other day about how each of our homeschool days were going. It's a new school year and we are both trying new things.

"I'm almost afraid to say it out loud . . . " she said, "but it's going REALLY well".

We laughed because both of us knew it was silly, but sometimes there is that internal fear that once something is spoken out loud, it will inevitably be jinxed.

We are having a really good start to our year. We are on our fourth week, and it just might be our best year, yet. All glory to God, but I will also say that the best decision I made this summer was breaking up with our math curriculum.

It wasn't working for us. Lessons took a ridiculous length of time to work through and were exasperating to both the child and myself. Our days revolved around math, language arts, and not much else, because who has energy to tackle history and science and all those things when your math curriculum is like a possessive boyfriend who is sucking all the life out of you? 

Letting go was strangely hard. I am a pick it and stick with it kind of person. It was "safe and secure" because it was such a respected program and covered EVERYTHING. But you know what? Switching to this new program has SET US FREE. We are actually covering other subjects thoroughly and the kids really enjoy doing math, now. Each lesson is taught via video and it is such fun to learn from this teacher.

Now we have time for very important things.

One of the lessons I'm learning in this homeschooling journey is that we who teach greatly need the community and support of other homeschool parents. I'm not in an official organization--yet, but have a sweet community of veterans and newbies to bounce questions and ideas and, yes, at times discouragement, frustration, and despair. That's how I found out about our current curriculum. Two of my friends were so assured and chill about their math programs, had a healthier balance in their days, and kept recommending it.

Homeschool friends, don't do it alone. Find community. Embrace social media if you are in an isolated place and don't be afraid to break up with that possessive boyfrie--er, curriculum if it isn't working for you.

Porches, Culottes and Airstreams

I grew up with the great blessing of knowing my extended family. Each of my grandparents came from large families (11, 5, 7 and 7), and I have fond memories of huge gatherings with my great-aunts and uncles.

My maternal grandfather's family were the Calhouns. Papa and his 6  older brothers (they lost a sister, I believe), all grew up in the "Dry Creek" area of Covington County. I'm pretty sure there was Scotch blood on all sides ("Grandmother Calhoun" had been a Magee) and they were a neat and eccentric bunch of folks.
At one point the family land was divided between the brothers, but when Papa retired from the Air Force in the seventies, he bought several of the brother's shares and he and my grandmother built a house and settled into semi-retirement. He farmed, raised cows and had a part-time law practice, as I understand it. 

By the time I was a child, all the brothers were retired. They had been in the Highway Patrol, worked for Standard Oil, done Civil Service, military, etc, and in retirement, it seemed that every one of them owned an Airstream travel trailer or some sort of camper. My grandfather turned an acre of the land into a "camper park" and every so often, they would all gather at the farm for a season. 

I loved it when they gathered. It was so fun to explore their campers and just listen to their stories. 

Papa and his brothers had the best names: Knox, Garland, Evan, Shelton (Shaky), John H., Harry and my own Papa was Aubrey. They were all a bit loud as every one of them had major hearing loss, and 

the gathering may have been referred to as a "Beltone Convention" by some of the younger folk. I remember steaks on the grill and boiled shrimp piled on a spread out on a newspaper; aluminum folding chairs and folks gathered around the kitchen table. 

My Granny and aunts matched their husbands in names: Lois, Eloise, Lucy, Nettie, Edith and Jean. They were such neat ladies. I remember lots of tightly curled hair and culottes and pumps (worn with the culottes, of course!)

There were many hours spent on the porch, and I remember a lot of pea-shelling into these aluminum colanders. I have some chairs on our porch now that remind me of those days. 

After Papa Died, many of his siblings were still alive and Granny kept in close touch with most of them. I have the best memories of going to visiting.

Aunt Nettie lived in my hometown, in a little tiny house. She had an electric organ and her galley kitchen always seemed to have some kind of pie in it. The back yard, which you accessed through the carport, via a little gate between the storage room and house, was the best. There were rose bushes and some sort of small patio with an out door shower and sink. I loved to play in her backyard, and peek into her bedrooms.

Aunt Eloise and Uncle Knox were simply
wonderful. They lived in Georgia and she dealt in collectibles (like glassware). She was very, very ladylike. He made muscadine wine and was a woodworker. The one time we stayed with them, I was just enamored with their house.

Our favorites, though, were Aunt Edie and Uncle Shaky. I even named one of my dolls Edie, my sister did one better and named her daughter Edie. Because they lived in Meridian, we saw them very often. Their house was super cool. The front living room had a long seventies couch, but I don't remember anyone ever sitting in it, but instead, there was a very comfy family room.  Their tiny kitchen had a swinging saloon style door. Aunt Edie had white hair and was very "pearly". She had the best laugh and read Victoria Holt novels. Her bathroom was pink, with pink carpet and I remember a lot of gilty-gold accessories lining her hallway. When we ate at their house, there were vegetables like squash and black eyed peas and sliced, peeled tomatoes on a dish. Best of all, I remember that she spoke "to" me and not at me. When I was a very little girl, Aunt Edie would sit on the swing with me at Granny and Papa's and we would swing in the night air and listen to the bullfrogs.

I'm grateful for these sweet memories of family. Being on the porch of the house we are in now brings them back. I'm grateful that even though family is often "difficult", my Granny pursued relationships even after Papa died and I got to know so many of my great aunts and uncles. 

Choices.

Our days are full of choices and the voices all around social media are pestering me to make deliberate and intentional choices. Well, here ya go:

Today, I chose to:
Spend a little time with my prayer journal.
Wash the breakfast dishes.
Sit down and eat only ONE biscuit with tomato gravy that my husband fixed for family who had stayed overnight. (then I chose to eat the SECOND standing up)

Today, I chose to:
Play a game with my husband, brother-in-law and son.
To get in the laundry room and catch up on a Holiday's worth of folding,
then I ironed dress shirts in a patch of sunlight because I knew it meant a lot to Tuan.

Today, I chose to:
Eat vegetable soup, then
Take a nap so I wouldn't be a grumpy pants.
I chose to sit with my dear sister-in-law and hold my nephew and talk.

This afternoon, I chose to
Get all the children bathed and the girl's hair dried.
I chose to straighten my daughter's already straight hair
because she wanted me to.

Tonight, I chose to
Vacuum the living room,  and wash and dry our sheets, and have the kids clean their rooms.
Then I chose to let the kids stay up late and mess up their rooms because they were all cute and wearing pajamas and playing so well together.

Tonight I chose:
A bath and a shower because it's fun to do both!
To eat dinner with Tuan after the kid's bedtime,
then to listen to his work training videos while I worked on a project
and let myself get lost in a blizzard of creativity and dreaming.

Every day we are surrounded by choices. Some are important and some are mundane, but sometimes its not so much what we choose to DO, but what we have chosen not to do.

And, that, dear friends is why I came out of the blizzard of creativity and walked into the kitchen at 1:20 am to realize that today I had chosen NOT to:

wash the lunch dishes,
wash the second lunch dishes
wash the crock pot
was the supper dishes
wash the second supper dishes.

And so, early this morning I chose to wash half of the dishes because I have so many type A friends (who never have dirty dishes and I SO WISH I WAS LIKE YOU SOME TIMES!)  who I'm afraid might drop by the house before I could get them washed in the am.

So at the end of a day full of great choices. I chose to wash the dishes from a place of comparison and guilt. But I only did half.

Because I'm type B.
And blogging about it was much more interesting than drying, then washing some more.

#campwifelife

I love the idea of hashtags and while I don't use them on Facebook or Instagram, I'm always throwing them out in my head. #campwifelife is one of my growing mental hashtags. Here is one example.

My husband came home this morning before I was even fully awake asking for a "sacrificial basket for the loaves and the fishes" that he could use for some camp teaching purpose. I was stumbling around trying to find a basket when the word "sacrificial" registered.

"What do you mean 'sacrificial'? I won't get it back?

"probably not"

My first thought was, no you can't have one of my baskets. I need them. They are pretty. Are you crazy? Then a soft and gentle conviction came to me: "will you sacrifice even your home decor for the sake of the gospel?" hmm. That's one of MY most treasured areas, for sure.

This was by no means a heart-piercing, mega-moment of spirituality, don't be mislead; but it certainly gave me pause and I grabbed a "sacrificial basket for the loaves and the fishes",  emptied of it's contents and handed it over cheerfully.

I've been thinking about this a little bit. What am I willing to lay down, give away and let go for the sake of the gospel? So far, I've been asked little. Will I be faithful in the small things? Will I be faithful in the big things? I pray that the Lord will give me the grace to do so. 

What is is like to be a camp wife? Well, sometimes your husband pops home and asks for a "sacrificial basket for the loaves and the fishes" and you give one up for the sake of the Gospel of Jesus. 

#campwifelife