What A Homeschool Room Needs
My heart has been wrestling.
It started the week before the inner city mission trip. I spent the week rearranging my homeschool room. We moved bookshelves, used some scrap wood to make shelves, added a $20 light. For years now I've enjoyed taking time in the summer to make the space fresh for the upcoming year.
Even as I prepared, I noted how big our school room now feels. Where there was once six of us doing school daily, there will be only three this year. Though the size is the same, each child leaving home makes the entire house feel bigger.
In the city, we held an evening kid's club in the courtyard of some apartment buildings. It struck me that each apartment was probably the same size as my homeschool room. It was a realization that causes one to feel smug or ashamed.
My wrestle continued at my daughter's home.
A framed child's finger painting - CONGO - was the prompt. Our church has a close affiliation with the Christians in Congo. Seeing the print reminded me of stories and photographs from returning teams. Like the small city apartments, just sheer mention of the country's name causes me to dislike the abundance of our American culture, and how I get pulled into craving bigger and better.
Last Sunday, our pastor preached fresh from his visit to Congo. He described at length the Christian schools being established there. He talked of the modest classrooms. Two by four framing, metal walls and roof, wood desks and benches.
No bookshelves. No new lights. No yellow pencils in a decorative black Dollar Store bucket.
Paul writes, "At this present time your abundance being a supply for their need, so that their abundance may also become a supply for your need, that there may be equality" 2 Corinthians 8:14.
I have space in abundance.
My abundance plus knowing their need results in the wrestle.
One solution would be to sell all, simplify, and give the access. Believe me, I consider it every time I clean house. In reality, our commitment to care for my father-in-law prevents that option. At 91 years of age, he is settled comfortably into his handicap accessible room, hoping the move here was his last. We desire earnestly to fulfill our ministry to meet his needs.
So I'll have to keep wrestling. Seeking the Lord's wisdom as I evaluate how my abundance can meet others' needs. An open heart to His leading has to be what my school room needs most this year.
A special thanks for Rebecah Lutz for the use of photos from her recent trip to Congo.
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I needed Nathaniel. It’s all sugar sweet and lovely to think about adoption simply as orphans needing families and loving families stepping in, but there is more to the story.
This weekend marks five years that Rich's father has lived with us. We considered waiting to adopt until our season of assisting Grandpa was over. Caring for an aging parent in your home is a unique challenge that only those in the trenches can fully understand. Accepting additional responsibility through adoption seemed... let's be honest... risky? Or extreme? Or radical? At the very least - hard. One of my struggles while taking the foster and adoption classes was the long mental list of the sacrifices I've already made for the sake of elderly care. "Surely God, you don't expect me to take in a child when I'm already giving so much?"
A mom steps timidly forward.
A protective older brother watches cautiously.
A baby looks for reassurance.
A mom stands courageously to the side.
And the photographer positions the moment I met my son in a larger story:
his foster family loved him well.
We met Nathaniel on July 3, 2013.
Nathaniel Steven Rankin
It seems we've always had to cope with our children being away from home on Christmas.
Rich spotted it first. An empty bird's nest nestled in the branches. We paused. Admired. Took a photo. Considered the tree. But moved on, leaving the nest for whoever claimed the tree.
I went to court for the first time in my life yesterday. And it about did me in.
We were lying side by side on the floor in the empty bedroom when Rich whispered, “I want to submit our home study for the baby.”
She couldn't concentrate on the work and smile for the camera at the same time. Sunday night pretzels. An Uncle Rich tradition for 20 years and tonight Ellie was assigned the responsibility of helping to make dinner for everyone attending the family reunion.
In route to Arkansas last weekend to visit our daughter and her husband, one particular turn along highway 67 south caught my attention. I saw the first sign at least a half mile from the curve: large yellow rectangles on both sides of the road warning a sharp left bend. CAUTION. Blinking lights. Danger Ahead.
We are starting our fifth year caring for my husband’s father in our home. It has been a very rewarding experience that has enriched our lives tremendously. The last four years haven’t been conflict free though, and I’ve learned a lot through the process of sharing my home with an in-law. Perhaps these three lessons will encourage other families in a similar living arrangement.
The Facebook message from my friend, Beth, caught me off guard.
I had thirty minutes to waste at Barnes and Noble last weekend and walked out with John Eldredge's Fathered by God: Learning What Your Dad Could Never Teach You. I didn't intend to by a book on manhood, or even intend to buy a book at all. But when I thumbed through Elderidge's book, a chapter title caught my attention: Cowboy.
I have a box of Christmas things marked "OPEN BEFORE THANKSGIVING." It contains the items we need to celebrate Advent: our wreath and candles, booklets of Advent readings from previous years, our Christmas music CD's, homemade nativity scenes, and three of our favorite family read-alouds for the Advent season
We had the opportunity this fall to visit the Menominee Indian Reservation in Wisconsin with a group of volunteers. We spent a Saturday cutting firewood for the tribe's senior citizens. As our group processed what it meant to be invited onto the reservation, we were challenged to think of ourselves as bridge builders from one culture group to another, and then further challenged to think of tangible things we could do to build bridges.
I had a few extra minutes before making Grandpa's breakfast this morning, and picked up Vicki Spandel's The 9 Rights of Every Writer. I wanted to review some of Spandel's insights on teaching. She is good. She got me by the end of chapter one - student writers have the right to be reflective.
f you're like this homeschool mom, you're wondering just how summer slipped by so quickly. I really need to crack down the next couple weeks and to get ready for the new year.
First thing to do every school year is compile a list of subjects and texts for each student. I have used the Course of Study form on Donna Young's website for years. (Thanks Donna for the amazing resources you offer free!) Compiling this document gives me a chance to do a last minute check on everyone's books and supplies, and also makes a great first page for the Missouri required portfolio of student work.
Three weeks from today we'll take our fifth child to college for his freshman year. We've done this before; all summer I've falsely believed that fact would make this new transition easier. But as I shared coffee with my son this morning and started making the packing list, I felt the familial tug on my heart. And an occasional lump in my throat. He's leaving. Very soon.
I'm a collector of words. My favorite Pinterest board is full of words and sayings. When I go on vacation, I gather brochures, postcards, maps, and words about the places we're visiting. Usually these go in my suitcase with the best intentions of being transformed into something more creative once I get home.
We planned our summer vacation for this moment. 2,623 miles. And I couldn't watch.
There are some activities, like house cleaning day, when having a large family is a real blessing. And then there are other activities, like swim day, when having a large family not only makes the task harder, but can sometimes even be dangerous.
My heart has been wrestling.
I'm visiting my brother and his family this week.
A framed print in the guest bathroom welcomes me every visit.
I've always loved the saying and decided this week to create something I could print and frame once I get home.
Maybe it will fit in your home too. Feel free to print the PDF.
