Goodbye

I feel really sad that I won't be homeschooling next year...or ever again, really.  Wow!  The great vast horizon of the years to come stretch out before me, open, empty.  I feel so reflective and contemplative.  The deep sadness comes to me and fills me because I LOVED it so much!  It was beautiful and meaningful and challenging.  Homeschooling blessed me deeply, down in my marrow.  

An email arrives in my inbox, advertising a sale at CBD on homeschooling supplies.  I walk through Sam's Club or Target and think of school supplies that I might need for the year to come, then catch myself.  That is no longer who I am.  But I liked being her.  And I will miss her.

I am thankful for the minutes and hours I got to spend with my wonderful children.  The seconds I was able to pour into their lives and their hearts.  I am thankful that I was given the opportunity to really know them.  They are amazing, unbelievable, interesting, joyful, funny.  Many public schooling parents would disagree and argue, I'm sure, but I am certain that I would not have truly known my children if I hadn't spent so much time with them.  For that I am full of gratitude.  I know them...and they like me.

I will miss the laughter.  I know they will still be here and be around but I will miss all the moments "in between".  It was all of the "in between" moments that delivered deep questions, and giggle fits and discussions of life.  

Time keeps moving forward.  And it is good.

I am excited for the opportunities that this new school will bring.  I am excited for my kids to go out and embark on the adventure of their lives.  But I am also aware of the passing of a moment in time.  Like the passing of babies to toddlers, and toddlers to school age children.  This is a chunk of my life and their life that is passing away, into the past.  It is becoming our history, a part of our foundation.  When I gaze into the future it is no longer there.  Though I search for it, it will not be found.  Ahead in the steps that I take I will never step again into a homeschool convention, or walk through Staples in the same way again.

Momentous.  Ginormous in scope.  Deeper than I can express.  There passes an enormous chapter of life.

A great and large chapter.

Goodbye Homeschooling.  I loved you well and tried my best and trusted God to fill the empty spaces. 

He will fill the empty horizon ahead. 

Dear God...

...is it O.K. if I stay home and write?

Sacrifice

I need to spend some time in the Word/prayer thinking about sacrifice.  So, naturally, I'm procrastinating.  (Although I did feel God smile at me and shake His head, and now I can't wait to hang out with Him this morning.)

I've been convicted about suffering and sacrificing lately.  How much do I really sacrifice?  How much do I really give back to God?  I'm not sure that I sacrifice anything.  How many hours of sleep do I lose to prayer?  How much of myself do I lay down each day.  I look around me and I see all the distractions of this wealthy country.  So much junk.  Ashes and vapor.  Here only for a flash.  Yet, I covet it.  I wrap it all up tightly in my fist and refuse to let it go.  

I have a comfortable bed, a comfortable recliner, a comfortable office chair, a computer connected to the internet, cable TV with a bajillion channels, an iPod with Facebook and Bejewelled and IMDB and iTunes Movie Trailers, and email and Twitter.  I have food piled up in my kitchen, food that will sit until it goes bad, food that isn't even really food but more of a food product filled with sugar.  I have disposable income.  Disposable.  Income that I use to entertain myself with movies, and games.  

I think about the countries where Christians are giving so much away, everyday.  Risking.  Risking everything for the Lord.  It's a habit for them.  It's what they do.  My habit is comfort, convenience.  My idol is comfort, convenience, stuff.

Stuff Mart.  (Yeah, that's right, I threw in a Veggie Tales reference.)

When do I have enough stuff?  Enough clothes?  Enough food?  Enough?  According to American Theology-NEVER.  I will never have enough.  I see the faint solidity of another world.  God washes the scales from my eyes and I see that there are places where this isn't true, places where the Truth is true.  I can't seem to escape the American consumer fog.  My brain rises out of the density only to fall back down.

The world woos me with flashy, bright, colorful, NEW things.  And I am caught.  My eyes drift.  I drift.  

If I don't do something, I'll never do anything.

I feel like I'm doing everything wrong...but I don't know how to fix it.

Isaiah 53:2-6

He had no form or majesty that we should look at Him,

and no beauty that we should desire Him.

He was despised and rejected by men;

a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief;

as one from whom men hide their faces

He was despised and we esteemed Him no.

Surely He has borne our griefs

and carried our sorrows;

yet we esteemed Him stricken,

smitten by God and afflicted.

But He was wounded for our transgressions;

He was crushed for our iniquities;

upon Him was the chastisement that brought us peace,

and with His stripes we are healed.

All we like sheep have gone astray;

we have turned--every one--to his own way;

and the LORD has laid on Him the iniquity of us all.

(Praise God, from whom all blessings flow!!!)

Sappiness on the Eve of Thanksgiving

I've been noticing a trend on Facebook this month.  Only two of my FB friends are participating, but everyday these two friends have posted something they are thankful for.  It is the month for pondering thankfulness after all.  I started to write a Post of Thankfulness on FB, one to cover the whole month since I missed the start of the one-a-day.  It grew pretty long and somewhat sappy.  I often write FB posts only to delete them upon reflection.  Then I thought...Hey I have a blog!  And what good is a blog if you can't paste the sappiness on as thickly as you like?

The thing that I am most grateful for is God.  God in all His fullness.  God in His Trinity.  

God the Father for choosing me, for plucking me out of the pit of my life, for trading me a life of misery and sin for one of hope and abundance--no one has ever claimed it was a fair trade.  I am thankful for my Father's leading and guiding, discipline and protection.  

God the Son, my Savior, who died.  He died.  For me.  I don't get it.  But I am so thankful for it.  He is my example.  He is not a High Priest who can't relate for He walked this treacherous, difficult world Himself once.

And He did it perfectly.

He saved me...from the world, from death, from sin, from myself.

God the Spirit who teaches me such beautiful truth.  He leads me from within, fills me with love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness and self-control.  Nine things I was lacking before He came to live with in.  He is my Comforter, my Counselor.  

God is precious to me.

I am also thankful for the life He has given me.  He has given me the strength to be a good mother, to break a cycle of dysfunction in my family.  If you didn't come from a broken messed up family you can't fathom how rescued I feel.  How priceless His safety, and firmness is, how valuable and unestimable His Faithfulness.

I love 2 Timothy 2:13, that says:

If we are faithless, He remains faithful--

for He cannot deny Himself.

Thank You Daddy, Jesus, Spirit, for choosing me, for loving me, for NEVER giving up on me.

Changes

I hate change.  My new email is less than satisfying.  I wish I had an Easy Button right about now.

Dreams

Sometimes I feel like I need a map to my dreams.  They flitter and float about my head and I dare not look directly at them fearing they will vanish like vapor. 

Alan Gurganus

...people need maps to your dreams.

Paul Valery, French Poet

In the first draft is the talent, in the second is the art.

Jack London

You can't wait for inspiration, you have to go after it with a club.

Charles Brower

A new idea is delicate.  It can be killed by a sneer or a yawn; it can be stabbed to death by a quip and worried to death by a frown on the right man's brow.

Frank Capra

A hunch is creativity trying to tell you something.

Taking A Break

Having just finished the crappy (emphasis on crappy) first draft of my second novel I am now required to take a break.  The idea is that you have to get away from the work for a spell, get perspective.  The best way to do this is to refuse to even look at it "for at least a month" (according to Bethany).  This is not an easy task.  My ending is so dreadful.  I can't wait to change it.  Every chapter is lacking important plot-heavy details that would help the story make sense.  And character dialogue keeps running through my mind at inconvenient times (they seem to talk more, now, than when I was actually writing).


On a side note I totally caved and re-read my first chapter...it's awful.  Worst part?  It's the best chapter I have in the book...proving that Bethany was right and I should probably get some perspective.


In the meantime, I am having Writing Withdrawals.  I'm dreaming of zombie apocalypses, alien dragons, with breathing tubes, attacking the earth, and feeling cranky.  I need my writing fix.  


NaNoWriMo is just around the corner.


My thoughts diverge here.  


Like a new romance, I worry that putting my novel down and focusing on another project will cool my feelings.  That at the end of our separation I will have lost the sound of my characters voices, that I won't be able regurgitate the internal motivation to create--in their world.  How do I cling to my novel, while fervently pouring myself into something else?  Will working on a new project give me the perspective I need or pour cold water on the fires of creativity?


On the other hand.  At least NaNo allows me to write...something.  I hate waking up in the morning and having no project.  I'm anxious, and empty.  I feel more like a writer than I've ever felt, as I come face to face with the hole it has left behind in my soul.  NaNo is a writing vacation, an exercise in perspective, that allows me to write.

Autumn

Leaves rustle as the wind sweeps them in giant circles across the pavement.

Writing

I feel the echoes of poet Allen Ginsberg in my soul, burning up my heart and bringing tears to my eyes.  When asked by students at Yale University, if there was a moment when he consciously decided to become a poet.  Ginsberg said,

 'It wasn't quite a choice--it was a realization.'*

Oh how this realization has been bubbling up inside of me, a spring of joy, an obsession--in a good way.  How right the world feels when I write.


It brings to mind a quote I have written on an index card attached to the cork board that sits above my computer, encouraging me in my daily work

When I'm writing, I know I'm doing the thing I was born to do.
--Anne Sexton

If I never get published...if the world never hears about me, or reads a single one of my words...daily I get the privilege of entering into the act of creation, with my Creator, and I discover that there is no more daunting or rewarding task than this. 


*Excerpted from On Writing Well --Zinsser

Massive Insomnia

def.--Laying in bed (awake) until midnight, drifting off to sleep for two hours, laying in bed (awake) from 2 am-4am, giving up on sleep.

Battling A Case of the Insecurities

My favorite ocean memories come from the time I spent at the beaches near Fort Walton Beach, FL.  The water was clear and warm, beautiful in ways that make the Pacific envious.  I loved walking out far enough that, as each wave came in to beat on the shore, it would first raise me up.  My feet would leave the sand and I would float in peace until the wave set me back down.  Sometimes my melancholy and insecurities are like this.  I'm mostly OK, and there are times when God picks me up and holds me close in his hands and I feel my feet leave the sand.  
There are times in the ocean, however, when you misjudge a wave.  The water, no longer gentle, pummels you with a rage that sets your heart on edge.  You are no longer lifted up and floating, rather your body is crushed down into the sand with great force.  In these times you fear for your life.  You hold your breath longer than you dreamed possible and you swim and push and fight against the sand trying to find the direction of the air.  Sometimes my melancholy and insecurities are more like this.  The enemy has taken the gloves off, he's thrown the gauntlet and we are going to battle.  My God is still there watching every move closely, keeping the enemy on a short leash.  He's still there rooting for me, loving me, and preparing for my battle victory.  The knowledge of such wonderful things should turn the tide for me, make my victory easier.  It should.  It does...make it easier but not easy.

What's the Hap? the 411?

I'm still dreaming, longingly, with drool dribbling, of somehow getting back across the pond.  Missing London, dreaming of Ireland, and Germany and Spain.  I missed my calling as an independently wealthy traveler.
I've been working...a lot.  Going to classes, writing, teaching homeschool (re-learning Geometry, struggling through Chemistry), attending meetings as one of our church's Attraction Leaders for Children's Ministry--don't ask me how I got the gig, I'm not exactly a poster child for it.
Bethany is attending her first forensics tournament tomorrow.  (She's gonna be great at this.  One of the kids called her bad-ass...proud moment for me)
NaNo is coming up quickly.  Not sure what exactly I'm gonna write about.  Have an idea but it's not my passion, just a different genre.
Bradley keeps asking for more...or new...or easier...or quicker computer science courses.
Dan's going back to school and he has mad* opportunities at work.

I'm praying about-my mom, my illness, writing, that I will be a good friend to those God has given me, an envy problem, wisdom for Dan as he thinks about work stuff, a friend's divorce.

What God has been teaching me-how weak I am, how unfaithful, how big He is...no He's bigger than what you just pictured, my brain can't even keep it in focus for more than a few seconds, how faithful He is, how strong He is, that He is in control--I'm safe in Him, that He is working all of this chaos and pain and difficulty for my good.

He really is beautiful!!!


*(mad means-mucho).

Beth Moore

Anybody can be like everybody else.  Only those who are exceptional choose to believe the possible over the probable.  You, beloved, were created to be exceptional.


(Single greatest motivating statement in my life right now!)