A Life Profound

moving back home

2010-04-26T15:14:00.004-04:00

I've tried and tried to make it work here on blogspot and just have never felt like I am in my own skin. So, I've imported all of my posts from here into my former wordpress blog and will be posting there from now on. If you subscribe to this site, I hope you will consider visiting me there:

A life profound

Love is Emerging

2010-04-19T22:03:00.002-04:00

I have tried to write this post many times and the block that I am experiencing will not budge even one inch. It invades most of my creative endeavors lately and I have been relying on others to speak for me through their art, their words, their music. Something is brewing inside and it will be wonderful when it burst forth but until then i am like a bottle, stopped up.

But still I want to respond to this question, What is emerging in the church.

I have two videos to share with you that are answering that question for me today, at least today.

Key line for me: "I love the cause but not the act."

Key lines for me: "Love is the weapon for the lukewarm congregation And love is the only thing that kept me believing, And love is the weapon for this wounded generation, Love is the only thing that kept me believing."

It seems crazy to say that I believe that love is emerging in the church. Shouldn't that have been present all along? Yes but I never experienced it. What I saw was a heavily guarded idea of love that was so infected with fear of others, fear of doubt and questions, that it did not resemble love any longer.

Watching love emerge from the rubble of the deconstruction of faith is a beautiful and hopeful thing. I am honored to be in the midst of this emergence.

Living Authentically

2010-04-10T23:27:00.001-04:00

I just want to know who I am.

And I just spent money buying another book to help me know and honestly, it's not helping. I'm not sure it is categorizing me correctly and then I have to wonder if I should be trying ot fit myself into someone else's definition of who I might be..

Part of what makes this such a difficult thing is the message that I have to be different or I have to be more than I am or less than I am. People's expectations can really mess with your mind. As far back as I can remember, it hasn't been ok to just be me. To the point, that now I hardly know who that is. But I am trying to find out and I am getting closer, I think, to living authentically.

As I type all of this, Chris lays here, quietly snoring. My heart breaks. I am such a hypocrite sometimes. Don't I place enormous expectations on him? Don't I want him to be more than he is or less than?

Change my heart O God!

Yes, please write upon my heart the very essence of who I am. Strengthen me with grace to live my life true. But more than that, give me the grace to allow Chris to do the same. In fact, let me see him through your eyes so that I can encourage him to be true to himself.

And me it be … Amen.

Disadvantage or Advantage

2010-04-10T12:07:00.001-04:00

A couple of days ago, I went looking on my old blog for a post I had written. I lingered awhile reading over some things that I wrote. There's some good stuff there. I had a place. My voice was heard. Why did I feel that it was time to leave that and start over? Here, I feel that I have lost my groove.

I want to write, I try to write and occasionally it works. But most of the time, I am stuck. I've tried so many different things and I am beginning to feel flighty and random. Can't I ever settle down to just one thing and do it well? Just blogging, just art, just writing?

A few years ago, I discovered the idea of being a scanner, a renaissance woman, one with many different interests. I embraced that. Now I look back and feel that being scattered like that doesn't accomplish anything. It doesn't help that I think my husband and I share the same disability.

Argh! Do I really want to define it as a disability? Is this a handicap? Or can I learn to harness this swirling energy and feel that I am accomplishing something.

Now it is time to leave for work. No time to settle and think and be and make a plan of action. I am being rushed from one moment to the next. It is my own doing. But I want to find a better way.

Dear Mr. Henshaw

2010-03-25T21:51:00.001-04:00

Dear Mr. Henshaw,

Now, if you don't know why I started this post with that greeting, you should read Dear Mr. Henshaw by Beverly Cleary. It's a Newbery Award Winner. I am reading all of the winning books to my children and we just finished Dear Mr. Henshaw today. Let's just say that I don't aspire to be an author but I do value keeping a diary, even an online diary, journal, blog.

Does it seem that everything is circular. That maybe you run as hard as you can away from something, settle down, pick up and move again, only to find that that you are in familiar territory, seeking the things of old. Maybe you will hold those things in a different way, value them more or less but still, you are drawn back to what nurtured you .

Sort of like a young woman or young man, graduating high school and they are just hell bent on getting away from the small town of their youth. They leave and go as far as possible. Only to find somewhere down the road, they end up back home, treasuring what they once despised.

My heart may be turning toward home.

As I am spending this year with a new faith community, I am enjoying being with these people of faith. They are striking a note that resonates in my spirit. My heart sings.

I am growing weary with trying to make my beliefs and the beliefs of others fit some personal criteria. It's not about me. I want to be transformed. It's been a long time since I have said that.

These years have been spent trying to be who I am, to be content with myself and if I can use a misunderstood and overused phrase, trying to find myself. It was a needed season, I think. I wasn't sure enough to carry my faith well. I was relying on others to shape me.

But now, I want to be different. I want to somehow find the balance between wanting to be more, to be transformed into the image of Christ, all while holding on to the peace of being me.

Some of this is very familiar territory and it feels good to believe again, to want God more again, to ask to be transformed again.

Selah.

What's weighing on me

2010-03-08T22:56:00.001-05:00

I don't think I am done talking, writing yet. Something is staying with me, simmering in my soul. It's vague, formless, almost unidentifiable. But there it is, weighing on me. I can't shake it. It's not entirely unwelcome or even unpleasant. Maybe the biggest issue I have is my inability to put words to it.

Like I've said in earlier posts, I've gone back to work and as cliché as it sounds, I have to say that this is pushing me out of my comfort zone. That's a good thing but I am quite literally sore from the stretching I am going through right now. Separate from adapting to this new place and new people, I am learning a whole new set of coping skills for my home life.

This has put substance to the words that I have been using to describe myself and my relationship with my husband, words that we have been using. We could say that we have an egalitarian marriage, a marriage of equality but do we really? That is really being put to the test right now.

More often than not, I don't feel that we are passing the test with flying colors. It's spit and stumble through each day with hardly any time to deal with the conflicts that arise because we just have to keep going and getting people to where they are supposed to be and getting done the things that need to be done. All the while, I feel like the pressure is building. I like for issues to be resolved and I don't feel that they are even being recognized much less resolved.

It begs the question, maybe, what is equality? Do I want Chris to be handling things the way that I do? To be thinking through things the way that I do? To be stressing over things the way that I do? That would be not only impossible but probably quite unhealthy for both of us.

I guess I am just feeling alone. Not alone in the workload. Chris will do anything that I ask and really is trying to plug into areas where he has never helped before. But I do feel alone in the thought process and maybe it is unfair to expect for him to join me in the madness. However, would be nice for him to drag me out occasionally.

The night is growing late and I just noticed that I am being visited by hives again tonight. This is me manifesting my stress upon myself. I've got to work out a better way. In the meantime, benadryl will get me through tonight.

Grace and Peace.

on being a woman

2010-03-08T10:05:00.002-05:00

Today is International Women's Day.

Today I want to write about this and I want to draw attention to the issues that women face. This year's theme is about giving a voice to displaced women. Whether from war, conflict or disaster, displaced women are faced with isolation, lack of needed resources, sexual assault. Those women need not be primarily labeled as victims. There is great strength that rises up in a woman when needed. The challenge is to honor that attribute, to treat with dignity, while providing protection, information and resources.

There now I have written what I felt was needed to preface the rest of my thoughts.

My thoughts are in conflict. Being aware of myself as a woman and of the issues of women is a new venture for me. Only in the past five years or so would I identify as a feminist. I was taught that feminism was damaging to the real worth of a woman … who found her value as a wife, a mother, a servant in the church. Instead of considering that there are valid concerns being addressed by feminists, disdain for the movement and for the people was nurtured.

Eventually I began to see the limitations built around me and as I tried to exercise my own voice, as I began to boldly express my thoughts and ideas, I began to experience the discrimination. As long as I was the subservient, obedient, know-my-place woman, everything was fine. Then I began to shake myself loose from those chains. There were some that would listen to me, who would give a nod of recognition to what I was saying but they would defend the position that there was no place for me to speak publicly in the church. Some went as far as to take the very words that I said to them and use them as their own. Others dismissed my thoughts as unbiblical and accused me of being divisive. Still others could not see their own hypocrisy yet demonstrated it so well by giving respectful words to a man, referring to him by name yet taking no effort to remember a woman's name, instead referring to her as “the kephale girl”
(it was in response to a teaching I sent him, by his request, from a woman pastor on the meaning of kephale in Ephesians 5) He would not ever refer to a grown man as a boy but had no issue in referring to a woman old enough to be his mother as girl.

I write this and I feel angry. Angry for the years that were wasted with my trying to be someone that I am not. Trying to be that person because supposedly it was required of me, required by God. Angry that those years twisted my view of God into something that almost seemed abusive, yet I was connected and told to love God. Angry that the practice of my faith did not actually make space for me but gave pseudo-value if only I would conform.

During that time, I became a mother nine times over and I am angry that I did that out of some sense of obligation, some sense of trying to measure up and prove my trust in God. I am not angry that I have these children. They are the very making of me. I am angry that their reason for being here was co-opted by legalistic ideas about God.

I spent years trying to be a godly woman, wife and mother and teaching others how to be that as well. Each morning I woke up with the clear understanding that I wasn't good enough, that more needed to change and for the most part, feeling like I was failing in every effort.

I am angry that it took so long for me to center into myself and love this body and yet, still there are days that I know I don't measure up to the cultural expectations. It frustrates me to try to practice the freedom from the opinions of others and to appear so sure while inside I am keenly aware of how I wish I were taller, skinnier, prettier.

I long for a community of women who support each other, encourage each other. Yet it seems that a lot of times, we are our own attacker; so much comparison, proving existence, justifying choices.

The anger is not necessarily a negative thing. I think it can be a good catalyst for moving forward, for clinging tightly to what is right. But all the while the anger is there, I feel guilty that it is.

What is my problem? In comparison, isn't my life here in the United States quite blessed? Yes, it is and I am grateful. But I have to honestly acknowledge the discrepancies that still exist, the vulnerabilities that are ever present for all women and the twisted justifications for suppressing women.

I wonder if I can make a difference. It seems an insurmountable problem, especially in other parts of the world. I know this. I can start with me. My continually acceptance of myself as a woman is key. The life that I live will be as an example to others, to my children … girls and boys … and to my grandchildren, to those I meet. I can write and express myself and find ways to help other women. I must. That solidarity is needed.

Flying fingers and thoughts running wild

2010-03-05T23:31:00.001-05:00

Writing is almost a meditative discipline for me. I close my eyes, breathe deeply and let my fingers move across the keyboard. A trance weaves through me and I just let my thoughts flow from my mind, down through my body, tickling my toes before making their way up and out through my fingertips.

When I look up, I wonder where it all came from, what it all means, how did I write those words. So many times, I sit and begin with an end in mind only to have the words take me somewhere else altogether. Some posts stay with me, others I hardly remember writing and wonder if I ever said what I intended to.

Tonight is one of those moments. Did I ever write about this year and how the focus has changed? I began this year fully determined that I would enter college, for the first time, at age 46. I was sure that I wanted to become an art therapist. I would pursue my art and learn how to help others with that creative process. Plans have changed. Maybe I will still do that but now contentment has settled me to pursue my education in a different way, a way that might not produce a degree, a license or a string of letters after my name. But nonetheless, it will be valuable and useful and just what I need.

I've never wanted to create for the purpose of financial gain. Not that I am opposed to selling my artwork or to pursuing an artistic career such as art therapy. Maybe it is idealistic to say that I want to create for the sake of creating. But that is where I am at. I don't want to bend myself to a market, to selling myself and making my art be palatable to the consumer.

But in the moments before I go to sleep, I lay and wonder if I am just lazy, too insecure, not ambitious enough. I see it in myself. I am content. I don't desire to have more and more and more. And I see it in my children. Simple things make them happy and they are convinced that a good life will be centered on their doing what they love.

Is it the hippie coming out in me? In them? Is this really a sustainable lifestyle? Do we, do they have to follow the course that everyone else follows? Or can life be lived well wit little money but lots of doing what you love?

Those are the thoughts that crawl into bed with me. They invite more worries and concerns … but what about paying bills and health care and future families? Oh tonight, I have to breathe deeply, let these fingers fly and try to form the words, the questions that plague me and leave them here for now.

bringing it all back together

2010-03-02T21:32:00.003-05:00

I've been blogging since 2004. Sometimes I feel like I have not much to show for it. It certainly hasn't been a lucrative endeavor. I don't have lots of followers or dozens of comments. Many times my writing is sporadic. I never developed that singular focus. In fact, he whole purpose of this post is to correct a mistake I made.

All along, I resisted the basic blogging advice of having a main theme or topic. There was, I guess. It was my life, as complex and multi-faceted as it was. When I began to plan a move from wordpress over here to blogspot, I decided to apply that advice finally and I split myself into pieces.

I created an art blog and an unschooling blog and everything else landed here. I tried. It didn't work. I began to write less and less. I struggled to find things to post that would be interesting to others. I broke my own blogging rules. Write what I know.

So, I am here today, whole again. I have imported my other two blogs and I have redirected the urls to come here. Last night I was thinking about why I want to continue to write, to blog, to record my life here. I could shut it all down and would it really matter.

This is not a pity party. I am not looking for affirmation or pleas for me to continue. Quite simply, I have my reason … I write for myself first. I hope that doesn't sound narcissistic. Writing here, keeping track of my thoughts and journey, has been one of the most beneficial things I have done. It creates an energy within me that sustains my soul. Second, I am writing for my family. My children and grandchildren will be able to read my words. It's a bit of legacy for me to leave behind.

So the blogging goes on … and on … and on.

Grace and Peace!

Sacred Ordinary

2010-02-24T08:06:00.001-05:00

How do I get started with my words this morning. So many changes for us lately and so many juggling balls. Writing and blogging have taken a backseat. Not that I was being very consistent to begin with but I had high hopes for this new year. I entered 2010 knowing that this year would be different. I had some idea what direction I would be going in but now it seems to have taken a turn. A good turn; it's just not where I thought I would be.

Shortly before the beginning of the year, I felt a sense of peace settling on me and a desire to simplify. I felt instinctively that it was time to lay aside the tumultuous questions about my faith. It was time to commit and to accept and to practice contentment. I stumbled across a blog post, based on an entirely different subject and not one that I particularly agree with, that talked about giving God one year. That sounded reasonable to me. More than the sporadic commitments I had made in the recent past but not so much that I would not be able to keep that promise to myself and to God. For many reasons, I knew that this would take us back into a church environment.

Thankfully, due to what I will call serendipity, I had begun to know a pastor at a new plant of a PCUSA church and all of my first impressions of her settled deep into my soul. I repeatedly say that I just adore her and it is true. Her stories, her witness have made room for me to believe again. First shaky steps but taking them nonetheless. It seems that I have confessed to unbelief. No, not exactly unbelief but I think I had put my faith on hold for awhile.

So, we have started attending services at this little church now and it has been a good thing. Words can't express just how sweet and simple this community is. Monday I described it as ordinary. It is not meant in a demeaning way at all. In fact, it is probably the most beautiful thing I could say. It is a sacred ordinary.

And that is needed, I think. I already knew it. That simplicity that I long for can be defined as wanting the ordinary and the practice of presence in it. This morning, that is being confirmed in my heart as I am reading a new book by Barbara Brown Taylor, An Altar in the World.

From the introduction:

“No one longs for what he or she already has, and yet the accumulated insight of those wise about spiritual life suggests the reason so many of us cannot see the red X that marks the spot is because we are standing on it. The treasure we seek requires no lengthy expedition, no expensive equipment, no superior aptitude or special company. All we lack is the willingness to imagine that we already have everything we need. The only thing missing is our consent to be where we are.

What is saving my life now is the conviction that there is no spiritual treasure to be found apart from the bodily experiences of human life on earth. My life depends on engaging the most ordinary physical activities with the most exquisite attention I can give them. … What is saving my life now is becoming more fully human, trusting that there is no way to God apart from real life in the real world.”

There are probably pages and pages that I could write about those few sentences. Suffice it to say that after so many years of being taught that my faith meant denying my flesh and the things of this world and that there was a holy experience only found “out there” somewhere, it is refreshing to realize that grounding myself in my daily life, living aware and present, is the practice of my faith. I think it may just be saving my life as well.

Postcard Ar

2010-02-21T20:37:00.001-05:00

I just completed a postcard swap with Ihanna. Such fun and have started receiving some beautiful postcard art in return. Here's what I sent out:

Simply Amen

2010-02-12T18:28:00.002-05:00

A rare occasion today. It is snowing, beautiful, white fluffy snow covering us in a blanket of peace. It is 6:15 and I am getting ready to go make pizza. We'll eat and watch the Winter Olympics Opening Ceremonies. And I will be grateful that I and mine are warm and safe and fed well.

But it creates an ache in me., keenly aware of the need and the want just outside my door. Wishing that my own place of contentment could be magnified and multiplied to be enough for everyone.

From the devastation of earthquakes to those huddled in boxes trying to keep warm from the white stuff that I am loving so much, the poor are always with us. How do I respond? How do I hold this ache, keep my peaceful content but also push myself to that place of being uncomfortable for others.

No blinders please! Let me look into the eyes of suffering and allow my heart to be broken and knit together with theirs. Nurture this creative spirit that I value so much and teach met to think beyond boundaries for solutions or at least a way to offer a helping hand.

God, if my thoughts are wishes, if my wishes are prayers, then may I simply now say … Amen

Embracing the Emotions

2010-02-11T20:44:00.002-05:00

I've been reading Renegade Conversations, a blog by Ronna Derrick for several months now. Hardly a post goes by that I am not going back, re-reading, nodding my head, my heart buzzing with agreement. She is putting words to thoughts that are still spinning in my own mind.

For instance, her post from January 25^th, Dark Emotions is based from her reading Healing Through the Dark Emotions. It explores the challenge of living the emotions of our life. Too many times, too long, I thought that being a Christian meant bringing my emotions under control … after all, I could not trust them, they were not truth.

Several years ago, our family entered what we affectionately call our season of Hell. There was loss and grief and disappointment, followed by anger and despair and ending mostly with confusion of how to move forward. Our faith or what we understood our faith to be failed us during that time. Which led to more loss, more grief, disappointment and so on.

My heart resonates with what Ronna Derrick writes, first quoting Greenspan;

We can’t laugh heartily unless we know how to cry. We can’t be fearless unless we know the taste of fear. We can’t be happy if we’re afraid to feel sad. Our faith is not faith until it’s tested. To be at peace, we have to be at home with all our emotions, to get comfortable with vulnerability.

And then her own words:

Grief that threatens to overwhelm. Disappointment that has caught me off guard and knocked me to the ground. Sadness that feels too heavy to let in. Heartache I can barely stand to speak out loud.
Still, I keep breathing. This I have learned. I do not drown. I continue to hope.
I have learned that even in the midst of pain, I will laugh again. I will be fearless. I will have faith. I will know peace. And I will continue to hope.
I have also learned that it's not all or nothing.

Sometime as we were just beginning to take unsteady steps out of our season of Hell, I began a new mantra. “It is what it is” I began to learn to accept what I was feeling, to embrace tears and anger and to allow myself to ride those waves. All of my struggling against them had been pushing me further under.

I especially love the thought that it's not all or nothing. Oh, my personality leans toward that all or nothing mentality. It one thing is not good, then nothing is good. WRONG! It is not like that at all. Life is far too complex and multifaceted.

And I learned an important life lesson. In the words of my niece, nothing comes to stay. The bad doesn't come to stay. It too will pass. But neither does the good. I learned to soak up every moment of the good and to hold on tight during the bad. Ride the waves, lest they knock your feet out from under you.

Learning in all kinds of ways

2010-02-10T20:32:00.001-05:00

Today was a work day for me but there were things on the calendar. We are blessed to live within a short drive of many cultural experiences.

The Brooks Center at Clemson University has a wonderful school performance program and today was on of the best.

I missed it but Chris and the kids went to see The African Children's Choir. Everyone agrees that it was a wonderful performance.

AFRICAN CHILDREN'S CHOIR ON AMERICAN IDOL

When I got home, I found out that Chris had expanded our cable to include Halogen, Biography, Science, Discovery Health, and more. Yay!

I think I am going to let the kids check out the tv schedule and make a list of all of the great shows coming up. Right now we are watching Artland USA. What a great way to see all the creativity in our country!

Changes

2010-02-09T21:28:00.001-05:00

Hello my dear abandoned blog. Of all the blogs that I have (and it is far more than one person should have) this is one that I don't want to neglect. It is not only a record of what we are doing but hopefully an encouragement to others. Even an encouragement to me when I think that we aren't doing enough.

If I have to be honest, I am not sure that we have been doing enough. I had become so lethargic about homeschooling and frustrated with trying to move forward and generally mentally disorganized. However, no other choice has risen above this one to educate our children at home.

And now life as we have known it is changing. After almost twenty-five years of being a stay-at-home mom, after almost as many years being primarily responsible for homeschooling our children, I am now working outside the home. It is just a part-time job at a local bookstore (Buy Indie!) but being out of the home over twenty-five hours a week cannot help but have an impact.

The changes only seem to be positive so far. For the first time, my husband has moved from just a supportive partner to an active contributer. We are working together to continue living as fully as we have been, to ignite that love of learning again and as always and most importantly, loving well.

Taking the Challenge

2010-02-09T20:45:00.001-05:00

By what virtue do I call myself an artist? Is it presumptuous to label myself as such?

Is it as simple as being someone who creates art? Well, then we would have to define art too, wouldn't we?

Where am I going with all these questions? Didn't I already settle this in my own mind, my own heart?

Yes and I don't want to take up another blog post recycling through the same old doubts. They aren't even really there. Honestly. I am good.

I still call myself an artist even when my creating dwindles. I know it's just a matter of time before I break through the block.

Here is the root of this post. My life is changing and not quite in the direction I thought it would. At least not right now. It seems that creating art will be the hobby that I have, what I do to keep myself sane. That's ok. It doesn't make me less of an artist. Just an artist with less time now than she had a few days ago.

This year I took a challenge, a low pressure challenge as Leah says: To be Creative Every Day. In the same way that I believe that not a day can be lived without learning something, I think that no day can be lived without being creative. We are creative people. All of us.

So, right now, my creativity is being lived out by how I am redesigning my life, my days, my hours. I just started a job after almost twenty-five years of being a stay-at-home mom. This is stretching me in ways I didn't know it would and it's a good thing. I feel more focused, more productive and definitely more creative. We are all rising to the challenge.

A cage of my own making

2010-02-09T19:24:00.002-05:00

The night before I started my job, I sent a message to my friend that I had so much to do. Of the many things on my list, writing posts for my blog was one … or fifteen. I told her jokingly that I had fifteen blog posts to write. Well, the jokes on me. Whenever I come across something that inspires me to a post in my crowded mind, I send it to my gmail account and label it blog post, hoping that I will get around to actually writing one day. There are seventeen emails in my blog post label. I'd better get busy.

Let's start with the oldest which has been waiting around since September of last year. I don't actually remember what I intended to write then but this is the artwork that inspired me.

(this beautiful artwork is by Valerie Lorimer)

As I am growing as a woman, realizing my worth and my purpose, I have discovered that I have the power to pull down these walls and chains that hold me. I have known that for awhile. The thing that I have to come to terms with is that the cage, the prison that I have been in is one of my own making. I put myself there because I thought it was the right thing, the godly thing.

Culture is a loud and intimidating voice; Christian culture even more so. Beyond the pressure that I absorbed from a culture that treats women as less than and as objects to be ogled and used, I had the added pressure of a list of ways I needed to measure up in order to be acceptable and pleasing to God. Some of those things are in direct contradiction to each other while others are eerily similar. Both ask that the woman take a second place, both ask that the woman be a showpiece of beauty, both believe that she can't be too smart.

I tried to be good enough and I felt like a failure most of the time. Which almost created a prison within a prison.

The past five years of becoming who I am have been laborious. Many days I have sat and wondered why I bother. But I had to keep deconstructing what I had built. My freedom was at stake. No one else could do it for me. I had to.

But today, standing on the outside of all of that, is a most glorious day. I can revel in the work that I have done and be so grateful for those who have cheered me on, who have picked me up and set me back at it when I wanted to quit, who have believed when I couldn't. You know who you are.

Grace and Peace.

What I have Become

2010-02-08T21:24:00.002-05:00

Today I have become what I once judged and disdained. Those are strong words but true words. Before I even confess it, before I write about my journey to this place, please let me just say I am sorry for the opinions that I held. They were misguided, very wrong and hurtful not only to others but to myself as well.

Today I became a working mom. Again … I worked after my first daughter was born, until I married, until we moved away and began the rest of our family. I planned then to go back to work after our second daughter was born. My in-laws were bold enough to suggest that I not work until the children were older. I adore my in-laws and respect them very much. So, I stayed at home.

There were no regrets. I loved being home with my children. But slowly, this choice that I had made became legalistic. It was what I mentally began to impose on other women. I thought less of them if they chose to work outside the home. Whether by necessity or not. I read studies about how much it actually cost when a mother returns to work and convinced myself that it was no choice that a mother should make.

I think maybe I was trying to justify it in my own mind. For some reason, I needed to know that it mattered THAT much. I wanted my choice to be right.

The bottom line is that it was right … for me, at that time.

Now the time has come for another choice. Not a financially necessary choice but a choice to be involved in what I love. A choice that will demand much of all of us as we transition but somehow I sense that this is what we all need.

This morning I began working at a local independent new and used book store. A return to my first love. Growing up, I was just minutes from the library and spent countless hours among those beautiful wooden shelves. Photos show me lost in the other worlds that books offered me. I have been blessed to spend the time at home, nurturing the same love in my children. Now is the time to go and play somewhere else for a few hours a week.

I look forward to sharing out transitions, our new normal with you.

Grace and Peace!

The rest of an unfinished story

2010-02-08T06:58:00.002-05:00

Today begins a new chapter and there is so much more to write about. But I want to finish the story that I started two weeks ago. Not story in the manner of fiction but my story. This is my life, my spiritual journey that I am sharing here. Creative license has been used, of course.

I never actually wrote a letter like that to God. There was never a point in time that I consciously walked away. In the midst of it, I don't think I would have defined it as a break up. I was trying to hold on to my faith. But being where I am now, looking back, it is the best way to describe then and now.

Here is where I am now, here is the conversation that I was having with God two weeks ago … in the van, trying to pray. I was trying to enter into the style of praying that was my life for so many years. I was an intercessor. I believed that was God's gift in me and I worked on developing that gift. My shelves were full of books on prayer, I attended workshops on prayer, I was on the prayer team. I could pray. More so than music, more so than Bible Reading, it was my connection to God. Prayer was my treasure.

Then came years of struggling, not only with my faith, but with every aspect of my life. My marriage, myself as a mother, as a woman. As I tried to walk through it all and out of it still alive, I had to leave some things behind. But I am getting ahead of myself … or gong back to soon.

So, I am in the van two weeks ago and I am trying to pray and I struck with the realization that I can't do it. I can't pray like that any more and it makes me sad. I felt a sense of grief inside as I recalled so fondly what was and I want it to be like it was then. But it's not going to be. I am a different person and God is different. At least my understanding of God is different.

As I worked through this, actually talking out loud, trying to make sense of it all, I came to the thought that it's like a break up and reconciliation. Usually when a couple separates, there is some reason, some unhealthy aspects to the relationship. If those things are addressed and if that couple attempts to come back together, they have to do so with the understanding that they are different people, that the relationship will be different.

So, I began to write what would have been my break up letter. It didn't happen in one moment but that letter and addendum represents the culmination of all the things struggled with, in smaller ways, still struggle with. In a sense, I did walk away.

As I came and went, God stood by and let me. The choice was mine, the freedom was mine, to go and learn and figure it out. In fact, I believe that God knew that this was a good thing. That in the end the things that stood in the way of me really understanding who God is would be gone.

In light of my two previous posts, someone asked me if I am OK, if God and I are OK. The simple answer is yes. These days, I prefer the simple answer. I am tired of prodding and pushing my faith. I did that for a long time and dealt with the trauma of long held beliefs toppling to the ground because there was no foundation and for awhile felt I was just knee deep in spiritual rubble with no idea how to rebuild.

I finally just quit trying to sort through the debris. I've walked away from it, leaving it behind and am staring new. With the full knowledge that some of what I left behind felt quite valuable to me, I am still walking forward with faith that if it was of any worth at all, God will restore. This is the first time that I have given God that opportunity.

I read an article online before the first of the year that talked about giving God one year. What I took from that is that in my frail state of spiritual mind, I could not fathom dedicating my whole life to God. That was old terminology that lay in that pile of rubble. But I could give God one year. This is that year. A year that is being lived day by day.

Color: Beyond the Basics

2010-02-06T19:59:00.000-05:00

Julie and Chris are teaching a class!

I want to know all about color … don't you?

And Another Thing

2010-02-03T08:02:00.002-05:00

I thought that I would have finished the story by now. Had intended to but just couldn't make the words appear. I think I know why now. An unwelcome but necessary thing has happened to reveal the depth of what I was feeling. I needed to face it again but it has left me reeling this morning, recovering from sleep full of nightmares. With no disrespect to those who have suffered real physical abuse and trauma, I felt like I am dealing with some elements of post-traumatic stress.

Last night, I met with a couple o f friends to chat. All last year and bit longer, we got together each month and talked about life, kids and their growing up, politics, church. It's been a couple of months since we have been able to do this and I was really looking forward to the camaraderie. But there were some difficult conversations which led to me being in the middle of a barrage o f buzz words that made feel like I was being pummeled.

I was taken back to when I believed that there was “God's Way of/to” anything, to when I could justify so many things because it was or was not addressed in the Bible, that there are principles that we have to go by, that choosing God's best will guarantee a stress-free life.

Formulas are so attractive. At least, the promised results are. Invoking God's name on anything is powerful. Who doesn't want to live God's Way when it will protect from heartache, will ensure a pure heart, mind and body, will insulate from the influence of the culture. Who doesn't want God's best. But it is like the call of a siren, leading to entrapment.

I answered that call. The formulas were my life. As divorce was rampant in my family, there was nothing I wanted more than a solid marriage. As I had made so many life altering choices with my own heart and body, there was nothing I wanted more than to guide my children into a protected place so their lives could be different. There were many promises justified through Scripture. I followed the rules and I judged those who didn't. The simple fact is that it did lead to death or at least near death.

The relationships in my life were dying. Somehow, I woke up. Some how I was able to plug my ears and quit listening to the teachers, the authors, the experts. I began the long journey away from that place.

It was a long time ago and actually even before I broke up with God. See, part of walking away from God was realizing that abuse of Scripture and how it was allowed in my life. I was seeking God then and I am intelligent woman. How could I have been so deceived.

Today I thought I would write an addendum to my break up letter …

Dear God,

I was reminded last night of more reasons why I walked away. Too many broken promises. I believed that the Bible, Your Word gave me a way to live that would be filled with blessing. There were principles to follow, God's best to choose, God's way of everything. I followed the formulas and there was no freedom there, only chains. How could you allow me to be so deceived? How could that be the goodness of God?

It was such a solid part of my life then and realizing how enslaved I was has caused me to run as far as I can. I don't want any part of that ever again.

See ya,

Cynthia

The day I broke up with God*

2010-01-27T21:11:00.003-05:00

God, we need to talk.

I know we've been in a long-term relationship. From the moment I was born, you've always been there. We made a commitment when I was seven. Well, I made a commitment to you. From what I understand, you have always been committed to me. That's what I am supposed to believe. Actually it seems like when I've needed you most, you've not been there. I haven't been protected or provided for. Sure there are moments and I guess I am just supposed to cling to those and not feel pain for the times I've been alone.

See, it's just not working out. I think we need to take a break. I need to go find myself. Seriously, I know that sounds cliché but I don't know who I am anymore.

And you? You're not perfect either. I know everyone says that you are but I haven't found that to be true at all. There are so many contradictions! One minute you're creating the earth the next you destroy it with a flood. You are supposed to be all knowing, all powerful, what you say goes but then it seems people can bargain with you and you change your mind. What do want from me? I don't even know.Ten commandments? Another different ten? Three things you require? It seems by the time Jesus came along, you got an editor who taught you to say the most with the least … Love One Another. But what does that mean? You are love but so many times, you seem unloving.

And honestly? I don't like your friends, your followers. They have some sort of secret language and behavior that just doesn't make sense to me. It seems their interpretation of meeting a need is a pat on the shoulder and the classic line, “I'm praying for you.” How is that supposed to help? Not to mention how judgmental and critical they are. They are more interested in being right than acting right. . They justify killing others in your name while trying to claim that they value life. I'm just tired of their “hate the sin, love the sinner” crap I'm ready to throw their rejection right back at them.

Which I guess it means that I am rejecting you right now. I just can't do this anymore. I've played this game for so long. I've been the model student. Quiet time, studied the bible, prayer team, worked in every stage of nursery, children and youth ministry. What did get me? I can't even say.

So let's take a break. I'll go my way; you go yours. Maybe we can still be friends. We'll see.

*there's more to the story. Save your panic and assessment until you've read it all.

The Last Best

2010-01-25T21:25:00.002-05:00

Today will be the last best of me post because one of the best things about me is I know when it's time to move on. I am not motivated to write these posts about myself anymore. Not because it is too difficult to speak positively about myself. In fact, I think I have grown exponentially in that area just in these last three weeks. It has felt good to dwell on the best things.

There are just other things that I really want to write about. It's still my story but instead of contriving something to write merely for the discipline of it, my heart is the motivation.

So coming tomorrow, a new direction. Stepping forward into what is pounding in my chest.

Handmade Home

2010-01-23T21:07:00.002-05:00

For too many years, I didn't value myself as a creative woman and my home has been functional but not reflective of who I am. It is beginning to change. I like for my home to have meaning so the things that are in it won't be bought for the sole purpose decorating. I love a home that is handmade, homemade.

Today, while straightening up and putting away, I found some stars we had made from wrapping paper during the Christmas Season. It was a different focus for us this past year. The tree was not hung with the collection of ornaments, the traditional snowflakes did not float from the ceiling. Instead, I was captivated by the verses in Philippians 2:

Do everything without complaining or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a crooked and depraved generation, in which you shine like stars in the universe as you hold out the word of life

Stars it would be. We painted stars for our tree, folded stars to pin to our ceiling and made a star garland that never was hung. Well, now it is and it makes me happy to see something that our hands created, a simple beautiful thing to remind us that we shine like stars in the universe.

Trusting Myself

2010-01-23T20:48:00.001-05:00

Working to trust myself again. Sometimes I put pressure on myself to create something wonderful and then I get stuck. The intuitiveness leaves me and I am unable to do anything. I worry too much about it being perfect, perfectly meaningful. I attach far too much value to it. Then at the same time, paradoxically I don't value it enough. At least, I don't value the muse within, the creative spirit that will fly if the cage door is left open.

This week I just began to work and didn't worry about what it would become. It is not finished yet but it is a beginning. I am anxious to see what will be.

Certificate of Authenticity

2010-01-22T22:42:00.002-05:00

Todays best of me? Authenticity.

With me, you get what you see. I'm not very good at wearing masks. Sometimes, I wish I were. There's a concerted effort to control my facial expressions if I am disgusted or frustrated during a converation. I tell myself, “Don't show any emotion. Don't show any emotion.” But far too often, I am sure that my face gives away my thoughts. If it's not my face though, my words soon will. I just don't find it useful to play games with people. My greatest hope is that I am gracious and kind in my responses but also I hope that I will always be authentic.

There was a time that I looked back and lamented the years of wearing masks. But now, I realize that I wasn't wearing a mask then as much as I just didn't know who I was. I really was being as authentic then as I knew how to be. It's just that I had bought into some things about life, about a Christian life, that weren't necessarily truth. So, it certainly appeared that I had to be living a dual life. How could this intelligent, radical since birth, woman live the life I did without it there being a facade. But really, there wasn't. I was just trying to be who I thought I should be. But I did learn it wasn't really me.

Since then I have stripped the layers away that were keeping me from myself and I have learned to be open and honest about my life … the good, the bad and the ugly. As I have walked through healing in different areas, I have learned to tell my story. It is my hope that my story will encourage others. It's why I write here. Somehow, I have to believe that writing these words will help me and will help others.

LIfe of Privilege

2010-01-18T13:02:00.005-05:00

It has been difficult to come back to blogging about the best of me since last Thursday. The earthquake in Haiti brings front and center the wounded, the hungry, the poor in this world. I don't want to turn a blind eye to the suffering. Everything I have done from waking up in a warm home, to brushing my teeth with clean water, to standing in front of a freezer cooler at the grocery store choosing between regular frozen peas and tiny frozen peas has made me keenly aware of how blessed, how privileged I am.

In fact, I have struggled this past week with my life being full of not just blessings, not just privileges but indulgences. Having the supplies and the time to play with paint, glue and paper just seems extravagant. Having the technology to write about this conflict in my own head seems as much so as well.

Meryl Streep won a Golden Globe last night for her performance in Julie and Julia and remarked on the conflict for herself:

"I come to Golden Globes weekend and I am conflicted how to have my happy movie self in the face of everything I'm aware of in the real world, and that's when I have my mother's voice coming to me: Partners in Health, shoot some money to Partners In Health, and be damn grateful you have the dollars to help.
"And I am grateful. I'm really grateful."

I nod my head and agree but at the same time, I know that I what I do doesn't even generate the dollars to donate. In so many ways, my life is in conflict with what I believe, with what I stand for. I am a feminist but at the same time I feel like I am but a kept woman who relies on someone else's income to support my whims. I envision a different way to be and I am good at stimulating conversation but will words really make a difference?

What is it all for? Why do I do what I do and will it matter in the end?

So what is best about being me today? I am choosing to believe that this endless self reflection is a good thing and that it will bring me to a deeper place of being.

Creating this Week

2010-01-17T17:00:00.001-05:00

So this year, I am challenging myself to focus everyday on creating in some capacity. I will have ample opportunity since we are remodeling our master bedroom which in turn will lead to more remodeling projects in the house. It will be a slow process but definitely a creative one. This is one benefit of my finding myself as an artist. For the first time, I am keenly aware of my surroundings and wanting to make them reflective of who I am.

I spent some time creating a new blog with a friend. She graciously allowed me to choose a template, background, make the necessary tweaks. I love the simple changes I can make to the appearance of the blog by playing with the html code. I have learned by trial and error and only know basic things but SO much fun.

One of my ongoing projects for this year is to create journals a la Teesha Moore. I have never done this type of art journaling before and it is pushing me out of myself. In fact, I think one of the reasons I struggled so much this past week is that I wasn't in my comfort zone. I enjoyed it, in fact, I was giggling as I pieced together quirky characters. But it was/is quite a challenge for me right now.

Here is the cover of my first Teesha Moore inspired journal:

Why?

2010-01-17T15:52:00.001-05:00

Today I am recovering from a battle with my inner critic. I am still feeling a bit battered and bruised. Shots were taken, targets were hit and I have lingering questions and doubts.

My story is not unique. There was no recognition of myself as artistic and creative as I was growing up. My early adulthood was consumed with mothering my children. Somehow, I found myself on this road in my early forties, learning to paint, to draw, to express what is inside me.

So far, I have only done this for myself. A lot of art journaling, a piece here or there. I started with no art education at all and have taught myself through experimenting, studying what others have done and online classes. Ultimately, I am not as interested in selling art as I am in using art to grow spiritually, mentally and emotionally. I'd like to go to school to become an art therapist.

But this week, I am questioning the why, the purpose. Hours spent dabbling in paint and paper and glue to fill up a journal for what? for who?

My family and my friend support me and encourage me. They love my art. But honestly, there is that thought in the back of my mind that says that they do because they have to, because they love me.

So still,what is the point? I don't have answers today. I am too weary. But I do know that I will continue to create, to enter into the process.

Help Haiti

2010-01-14T23:30:00.003-05:00

Today I know when to step back and talk about something else other than me.

Haiti. 48 Hours Later: Haiti

Be forewarned, there are graphic and disturbing images there but this is a graphic and disturbing tragedy. We cannot turn our eyes, we cannot look away. Our help is needed, our prayers, our resources. It would be too easy to assume that someone else cares, that another person will donate. It can be too easy to hold ourselves at a distance, not wanting to be exposed. It reminds me of a song by one of my favorite bands, Lilies and the Sparrows.

The song is called Sweet Sixteen and part of the lyrics say,

The whole world screams,

“Where can we find hope?”

they’re on their knees,

overflowing with disease.

They’re reaching out as we’re drawing back,

“don’t expose me to that.”

Though our hands may stay clean as we let those who are trained go in to do their jobs, our hearts cannot be protected from the suffering. We must expose ourselves so that we may nurture the compassion within.

May we not forget. In the days to come, when it is not the top news story, when the screams have weakened to cries and then to silent tears, when it will be so easy to go on with our own busy lives, may we not forget.

Help for Haiti: here's a list of organizations already at work in the recovery and healing effort. You can see who is there, what they are doing and what your donation will be supporting.

Musical Notes

2010-01-13T22:52:00.004-05:00

Though we went through a weird, legalistic stage as young adults and threw out all our "secular" music, we have navigated back to center and enjoy so many different types of music now. I refuse to use the word Christian as an adjective for music but believe that all music is spiritual in some sense.

I am privileged to have children with wide musical tastes who have introduced me to some of my now favorite bands. They have shared their concert experiences with us and one of our best family times was Cornerstone 2008. So much so that we are planning to return this year.

My second daughter, Katie, is the volunteer coordinator for a local non-profit music venue. I am so glad that she has a place to nurture her love of music. She has committed to writing about some of her favorite artists and with this first post she writes about one of my favorite memories with her, one of our favorite artists, Will Hoge.

I really do have an eclectic taste in music ranging from country and blue grass to pop and retro-rock to classical and musicals. But for the most part, I tend to land pretty solid with the adult alternative sounds. I have a playlist in my sidebar with a few of my favorites. Hope you find something that you like there.

someone's in the kitchen with Dinah

2010-01-12T23:03:00.005-05:00

Migraine update: better today, best in six days. Not a totally clear day but very minor issues. I am planning to wake up tomorrow feeling wonderful.

I like to cook. Sure there are times when all I can think of is making things quick and convenient. That's inevitable when feeding a large family three meals a day. But the bottom line is that I enjoy the cooking process. I like chopping potatoes, onions, carrots and garlic for the potato soup. I like having multiples things going on in the kitchen and how in the end, it all comes together at once. I love looking at food blogs, choosing new recipes to make.

My absolute favorite go-to recipe source is RecipeZaar. I can search for recipes by type or by ingredient. The rating system is good and the reviews are always helpful. With an account, I can save my favorite recipes to my own cookbook. I also like the menus feature where members compile recipes in a collection such as Brown Bag Lunches or Meat Eater/Vegetarian Family Meals which will come in very handy for our combined family.
A couple of favorites:

Banana Oat Muffins These are our favorite banana muffins though I do have to liquify the bananas in the blender. My youngest loves the taste of bananas but not the texture. Weirdly, as I get older, I think I agree with him.
Vegetarian Meatballs OH MY! These are wonderful. Even my carnivores like these.

Pioneer Woman Cooks is top of my list of food blogs. She's so witty as she takes you through each wonderful recipe, step by step. I love that she provides photos of the process. It really helps to know that you are doing things right as you go along.

Here is The. BEST. Pie. EVER! I made four of these for New Years Eve.
I made this cornbread stuffing for Thanksgiving. I will never purchase a box stuffing again.

Kath Eats Real Food Just discovered this blog recently and she has made me want to eat oatmeal every morning for the rest of my life! You have to check out her Tribute to Oatmeal. In fact, I am looking forward to getting up early and making oatmeal for the crew in the morning. (It will be cold here. Our heat is not working so well) There are other great recipes and she always makes her meals look so inviting. As a bonus, I also learned some neat gmail tricks from her Nerf Kerf videos.

Being a vegetarian, I am lean strongly toward eating a high raw diet. I've done this before and have felt wonderful and will be transitioning back toward that over the next few months. (wow, I just realized that that means I will be providing raw meals, vegetarian meals and carnivore meals. It's a good thing I like to cook!) The next two blogs are enticing me recently with some wonderful recipes. I haven't tried anything yet but many are on my list.

Love Veggies and Yoga -- I think there is a small part in the back of my head that thinks if I just eat the way she does, I will be able to bend the way she does. LOL!

I will say that some raw recipes tend to be a bit nut heavy as they seek to replicate cooked foods. This blog Raw on $10 a day (or Less) has some great recipes that don't always rely on nuts to create the taste.

One thing I am really learning is that so much of the appeal is in the presentation. I am enjoying exercising my creative spirit while providing food for my family. It puts a bit of reason and joy to what could be just a chore.

Keeping up with the times

2010-01-11T21:44:00.003-05:00

Not totally migraine free today. Adjustments were made, some relief was felt but I will probably be going back to my chiropractor tomorrow. The auras are still with me.

But when they weren't, I worked like a mad woman today, trying to get done as much as I could while I could. While working on the schedule for our homeschool and searching our city for interesting classes for my kids to take, I came across some information that I wanted to email to myself so that I would remember to take care of it tomorrow and have the link conveniently accessible. I was thinking, "there needs to be a button for my toolbar so that when I am on a website, I can click that button and it will automatically send an email to my account."

Well .... I went to check if such an add on is available for Firefox and LO and Behold, yes it is!

Email This

Such a little thing to make my life so much easier!

I love that i have taken the challenge to stay current in this electronic age ... as much as possible. I am a bit late to the game on some things. I only began texting on my phone last year and I haven't gotten a smart phone or an i-phone or a blackberry yet. But I am on Facebook and I have a tumblr and I have twitter but admit that is one that I haven't really gotten into. I bellong to several ning groups, use meet up to organize our local emerging cohor t and participate in homeschool support message boards. I have a flickr account, use picnik to edit my photos, obviously I blog and have learned a lot about html just from editting my templates,

It boggles my mind to think where we could go from here. No matter where, I will be there trying my best to keep up.

Migraine Art

2010-01-10T21:59:00.010-05:00

Are you tired of my focusing on migraines yet? I certainly am. But as I am on day four of this particular episode, I can't leave the subject yet.

Today, I found these depictions of what it's like to have a migraine from the artist Olea Nova.

This first one is how migraine pain feels to me ... a pulling sensation. I am fortunate that I don't usually have severe pain but when I do, this it how it feels.

My biggest complaint is what I refer to as the brain fog. I feel like my head in a cloud of fluff, a bubble. I can't think clearly.

Then there are the visual disturbances, the auras.
This image from a migraine aura art gallery depicts exactly what mine are like. The jagged edges, the blue, white and yellow (sometimes orange). It appears in my peripheral vision and flashes and floats from one side to the other, obstructing my range of vision.

I am captivated by this art, this representation of suffering. It's an amazing thing.

My own journey as an emerging artist is one of the things that I love about myself and one that still fills me with fear and feelings of inadequacy but with more promise and potential than I can fathom. I began in my 42nd year and am proud to be reinventing myself this way. You can find my artistic musings and images on my very neglected art blog, Cynthia Clack. It is a constellation on the cusp of exploding into existence. One day those stars will shine in the universe.

Veggies please!

2010-01-09T21:30:00.004-05:00

Two days ago, I wrote about the upside of migraines. I am trying to keep that in mind as I suffer through the third full day of migraines. I am one of the lucky one because my migraines only bring excruciating pain sometimes. Usually, it is visual disturbance, fatigue and serious brain fog. It's difficult to write tonight.

The only thing I can think to write today about what is best about being me is that I am vegetarian and that I am a vegetarian for my son. My twelve year old son, Noah, decided to be a vegetarian almost two months ago. I told him that I would make the change with him so that I would know that he is eating well and to eliminate the isolation of being the only vegetarian in the household.

I have to say that I have really enjoyed the change. It's been fun learning to cook differently and creatively providing meals for our entire family. If you have any wonderful recipes to share, please do! (to clarify, we are lacto ovo vegetarians and do not eat soy products)

Free to be me!

2010-01-08T22:57:00.005-05:00

It was not always so. As a young lady, as an young mother and wife, even as woman maturing, I wasn't comfortable with myself, with my body. I can run down a list of how I don't measure up to beauty standards (whoever made up that list!)

I am not tall enough
My skin doesn't tan nor is it creamy smooth, it is pink, sometimes splotchy and mottled by freckles
My fingernails are like paper, they split and tear, won't grow long and if they did, they curve weirdly
I wear glasses
I am round and a bit dumpy, the beauty mark of giving birth nine times.
I have weak ankles, never could walk in anything with even a little heel.
I have sloping shoulders, that just emphasizes my sort of dumpy look.

What am I writing? Isn't this supposed to be month of writing about what is best about me? Yes, it is! So let me give it to you.

Now, my body image is GREAT. I realize that I had crossed into a wonderful place when I saw my x-ray during a chiropractic appointment and though there were some issues, for the most part I am doing really well. I actually said out loud, "Wow, my body is amazing!" and I just had to laugh with joy, because I meant it!

My body has carried and nurtured nine lives. I am strong and healthy. I just am not interested in submitting myself to the comparison of some arbitrary beauty standard. I love my body and that thought has allowed me to care for myself in a way that I have never done before.

I don't wear make up. It makes my skin itch and my husband will actually tell people that is the secret to why I look so young. I DO look young. The beginning of last year, I was mistaken as the sister of my 22 yod! No make up means no cleanser. In fact ... great confession ... I rarely use soap on my skin. Nor do I slather with lotions. I am hesitant to put all those chemicals on my skin that absorbs everything.

I don't shave my legs. Again, that was something I did to try to measure up to the detriment of my sensitive skin. I gave it up over a year ago and my skin has never been healthier.

I don't cut and style my hair to try to conform to what a forty-five year old woman should look like. I have dreadlocks ... or least I will have dreadlocks. Right now it is a dread-full mess! But I love the naturalness of it. And yes, you guessed it, no shampoo.

I even have to confess that I rarely look in the mirror. I know what my clothes look like on my body, so as long as it is clean, I am out the door.

I don't tell you all of this to set up some different standard. This is just me finally being comfortable with who I am, with how I am. Until I got to that place in my mind, I was enslaved to measuring up to someone's expectation. Now I am free!

Upside of Migraines

2010-01-08T00:08:00.001-05:00

Today was a day of migraines. In the morning, in the afternoon. This has been my life since I was about eleven years old.

But today has been another day, weirdly. It was a day to post your bra color in your facebook status as an effort to raise awareness of breast cancer. I only found one facebook status that had any conversation about breast cancer so I really don't know what it was supposed to accomplish or how. I didn't participate. In fact, I explicitly said that I would not post my bra color but I did post a link to the National Breast Cancer Foundation. Knowledge is power and you don't need to know what color my bra is but you do need to know about breast cancer ... the truth, the myths, the questions and answers.

I learned something today and I guess I will add it to the things that are best about me. Having migraines may make me less likely to have breast cancer. Added to other factors in my life ... I started having babies when I was young, just twenty when my oldest was born, I have nine children and breastfed eight of them, I don't smoke, didn't use birthcontrol pills, no history of breast cancer in my family. IN fact, there is no history of any cancer in the women in my family. Therefore, my chances of getting breast cancer are miniscule. That's a pretty good BEST thing, don't you think?

Women Unbound

2010-01-06T15:08:00.004-05:00

Let's talk labels. You know, the labels that we carry ... whether it is something we have applied to ourselves or that someone else has stuck on us. Conservative, liberal, emerging, Christian, atheist, fundamentalist, feminist, chauvinist, traditional, open-minded, closed-minded. Do you find them useful? Or are they constrictive?

I think that it can be both, either, or. For myself, I use labels to describe my process, knowing that it may or may not be my final destination. I'm not particularly fond of the labels that others put on me and I don't think it is their right or privilege to do so. I am who I say I am. Nothing less, nothing more.

So, why this beginning to this post? Because one of the labels that I apply to myself is feminist. Honestly, I am still figuring out what that means. After too may years of feminist/feminism being THE F word in my Christian circles, it is most accurate to say that I am a feminist. The journey began with trepidation. I remember well the day I said with trembling words, "I think I am becoming a Christian Feminist" There was fear, tangible fear because I had been taught that feminism was responsible for all the ills of society. I really didn't believe that I could be a Christian AND a feminist. But here I am today knowing that standing up for empowering women, that speaking out about the insidious cultural messages that threaten our female identity, that raising my daughters and my sons to be partners in this fight for what is right ... these are not in opposition to my faith.

Admittedly, I am late to the game but I am learning. It is important for me to carry this label. This is my process, my steps in becoming a woman.

The Women Unbound Reading Challenge came along at just the right time for me. This is my own personal Women's Studies. The challenge is to "read nonfiction and fiction books related to the rather broad idea of ‘women’s studies.’ The definition according to Merriam-Webster

the multidisciplinary study of the social status and societal contributions of women and the relationship between power and gender."

There are three levels of participation:

Philogynist: read at least two books, including at least one nonfiction one.
Bluestocking: read at least five books, including at least two nonfiction ones.
Suffragette: read at least eight books, including at least three nonfiction ones.

I plan to participate as a suffragette. After perusing others' lists, I came up with five loose categories and have included three books in each. Yes, I know that is fifteen books. It is just too difficult to whittle it down any further. I will choose read eight books from this list to read by the end of the challenge in November. Oh, and btw, just in case you didn't figure this out, I defintely consider being a feminist one of the best things about me.

Here's my list:

Fiction

Spiritual

History

Feminism

Women, Mother's and Daughters

Creative Sticktoitiveness

2010-01-05T23:36:00.009-05:00

it's late again and I haven't gotten around to writing my post for today. Actually I was composing it all day, in my head and in the process, phoned a friend to talk through something with her. That led to us taking action on something we have wanted to do for a long time ... creating a team blog.

We have known each other for almost seventeen years and our friendship has grown to something almost undefinable. Well, undefinable until a random woman struck up a conversation with us a few months ago after observing our conversation for a bit. She was a lovely lady, in her seventies, from England who told us that our friendship is defined as anam cara ... a friendship of the soul. It is that.

We finish each others sentences, we have traveled parallel journeys without even knowing it at time, discovering the same things together but separately. So many, many hours of conversation and in the midst of it all, we have contemplated writing together or hosting a podcast together. Surely others would be as fascinated with our dialogue as we are! Well, that may be true or not but regardless, we have finally established an online home together at Two Women and a Blog.

There we will be discussing the books we are reading together, discovering what we mean when we say that we are feminists, finding our way as women, one post at a time.

And all of that brings to me to today's what-is-best-about-being-me. It's sort of two things.

First, I really like for my blog templates to be creative and interesting. (hey, it doesn't cost anything to decorate your blog!) When Kimber suggested starting a blog together, I said, "Ok, but I want to install the template." And she loves me so she lets me have my way.

So, I went on a search and found lots of possibilities and that is what has consumed my time today. The second thing is that I am diligent, tenacious (and somewhat anal), so I stuck with this idea until it was done and done well. I found the background and header, then played with the style sheet until I had everything just the way I want it.

When it comes to anything creative, I am going to stick to it until it feels done. I'm going to add creative sticktoitiveness to my list of best!

I'm not broken

2010-01-04T19:50:00.001-05:00

It is only day four and already I don't want to do this anymore. It's is just so difficult to look at myself and see what is good. Self improvement is the game that I like to play, never content to just be, always looking to be better.

The desire to grow, to stretch, to expand could be one of the things on my best-about-me list but then again at the same time, it can turn into a never ending cycle of trying to fix what isn't broken.

One of my favorite blogger/authors, Patti Digh, wrote the last day of 2009 her New Year Wish for her readers:

The only thing I can offer amidst the plethora of good advice that people are providing for the New Year is this: You are not broken. You don't need to be fixed.
You have great, unlimited potential. Look for that, not for what you are doing wrong. In this new year, focus on what you can do, not what you can't. Look for potential, not flaws. Stop comparing yourself to anyone else. Sit inside your own skin, and know.

I am struck with the irony that I recognize that one of the best/worst things about me is my desire to improve and even this desire to be content with myself is itself a desire to improve. I want to be a better person and to me, being a better person may just mean being happy with who I already am. Oh goodness, it is just getting circular so I will move on.

Today I want to recognize and honor my drive to grow as a good thing, a best thing about me. I want to take those steps with full knowledge that I am full of potential, my own potential and that there is no need to compare myself to anyone else. Even this characteristic does not need to be fixed, it only needs to be channeled and used wisely and beautifully.

Sara's giving away . . .

2010-01-04T15:17:00.000-05:00

beautiful jewelry!

Check it out:

Lisa Leonard's Designs Giveaway

A mother who reads

2010-01-03T22:02:00.004-05:00

I haven't written about my reading challenges for this year yet. The basic information is on my sidebar but I do intend to write a post per challenge soon.

Today I decided to start on one of my lifelong challenges ... reading all the Newberry Award winners. What better way to do this than to read them aloud to my children? Choosing from the books I already have on my shelves, we began today reading The View from Saturday , the 1997 winner.

And that brings me to one of the BEST things about me ... I am the queen of reading aloud! I LOVE to read to my children. Since my oldest was born, books have been read ... at bedtime, at naptime, during cleanup time, during meals. We have laughed together, cried together, dreamed together through countess books ... many read multiple times.

When I say that this is one of the best things about me, I am not kidding! Ask my children. Even my adult children still want to listen to me read. It's actually more than reading, it's performing. I think it may even be more than that. It's more than that I do the voices ... I become the characters. I completely lose myself in the story and make it come alive for my family. If one of our beloved books is made into a movie, my children often say that they think they have already seen it because I have so vividly read to them. What a joy! What a privilege!

My favorite read aloud memory is reading Peter Pan to my children during the year after my youngest child was born. During the last chapter, Peter Pan comes back for Wendy after she is grown and married with children of her own.

"I can't come," she said apologetically, "I have forgotten how to fly"

"I'll soon teach you again."

"O Peter, don't waste fiary dust on me."

She had risen, and now at last a fear assailed him. "what is it?" he cried, shrinking.

I will turn up the light, " she said, " and then you can see for yourself."

For almost the only time in his life that I now of, Peter was afraid. "don't turn up the light," he cried.

....

"What is it?" he cried again.

She had to tell him.

"I am old, Peter I am ever so much more than twenty. I grew up long ago."

As I read, tears began to run down my cheeks with the realization that my children were growing up, they had long ago forgotten how to fly. I was sitting on the floor with the baby in my lap and my oldest got up, came to sit behind me and wrap her arms around me while I finished reading the last words of the book. To this day, Peter Pan is my favorite book.

From Narnia to the Shire, from Hogwarts to the banks of Plum Creek, from Prince Edward Island to the Archipelago of Dreams and many places in between, we have traveled together. The best thing? There are many unread books ... so many more journeys to take!

You may have tangible wealth untold;
Caskets of jewels and coffers of gold.
Richer than I you can never be --
I had a mother who read to me.
-- Strickland Gillilan (1869-1954)

Laughing Loud

2010-01-02T23:50:00.001-05:00

it's eleven-thirty. Another day of stalling. I don't know where to begin. I wrote down a list but can't seem to write the first words.

Ok. Here we go.

If you ever go to a movie and there is a person there with a particularly LOUD laugh, that would not be me. That would be Katie, my second daughter. It's quite an experience to attend a movie with her and most of the time, I find myself in stitches because her laugh is that contagious.

But where did she get that laugh? Well, I think I know that answer to that question.

Today I had coffee with a friend and at one point something very funny was said (oh, I wish that I could remember what it was) and I slid down in my chair as the laughter burst forth from my mouth, almost echoing in the coffee shop. Yeah, it's from me. I have a loud laugh, a great laugh, a shake the bed type of laugh. My husband always says that I have a great smile and while I don't agree with him on that one I do like my laugh.

And laughter is a huge part of who we are as a family. We love nothing better than sitting around after a meal, sharing stories, telling jokes, shouting over the noisy conversation. The laughter flows freely and with great volume. Those are some of my most treasured moments. Somehow the laughter weaves in and around us, drawing together these many different people. I like the way my laugh mingles with theirs. After my life is over, I hope that my children will look back and say, "She laughed with gusto!"

Beginning Again

2010-01-02T00:04:00.002-05:00

Hey there.

I haven't been here in awhile and how cliche that I am here now, on the first day of the new year. A day for beginnings and beginning again. But, here I am, ready to start again, ready to tell my story, to invite you into my life.

And what a life it is, it has been. One that provokes me to take on a challenge which seems so frightening that I have avoided writing the first words today. Last week, I receive an email from NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month) which has been extended from a November event to a year long event. The January theme is BEST. I knew that I would use this as an opportunity to begin writing again but how would I incorporate this word, this theme?

There will be no list of best movies, best songs, best vacation spots. What I intend to tell you is what is best about being me! I shudder at how pretentious this may seem but maybe the shivers are from the terror I hold within at having to cast a positive eye upon myself. The criticism is easy; I find self loathing to be an effortless pastime but an exercise that is perpetually self destructive. I am a woman who has dreams that I have dared not to utter, to chase, to allow the light of day because I have felt less than enough and I hate disappointment. Most of all I hate disappointing myself.

So, this month of January will be dedicated to me, to what is good, wonderful and great about being me. In the process, I hope to release a force, a song, a creative spirit that will drown out the lies that have held me captive. Maybe you will be inspired as well to look at yourself and recognize the potential and promise there. Create your own BEST list!

The Reality of my Dreadlocks ... Finally.

2009-11-12T16:26:00.001-05:00

So, this is what my dreads really look like, actually they look even messier than this.
Here's the photo I was working from when I drew this:

There are definitely dreadlocks there, more than you can see. Lots of loose hair too but honestly,
I am so happy with them! This is me, for the first time, I really feel at home in myself.

Dream Dreads

2009-10-27T21:37:00.001-04:00

After I shaved my head, I began stepping toward what had been my dream for years. Somehow, I had come across the idea of dreadlocks. I really can't remember the first time I ever saw someone with dreadlocks and felt a kinship. It was probably just a small pull at first that grew into a yearning.

I was ready to do it and put it off because my daddy was sick. When he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, I knew that I would not be getting dreadlocks for awhile. It was something that he would not have understood and there was no reason to cause that tension between us during the last months of his life. Then after he died, I held on to the long, silky hair because he loved it.

Then, like I said, the lice came, I shaved my head and I knew it was time. This is an impression of what I thought the my dreadlocks would like. Fairly uniform, tight, straight, neat. As the title says, these are the dream dreadlocks. The real dreadlocks? Yeah, we'll deal with those tomorrow.

I am not my hair

2009-10-26T22:01:00.001-04:00

Three years ago, I was in the midst of a season of long hair. It had a lot to do with memories of my father who had passed away in 2004. Then the itching began and it went on for weeks. I couldn't figure out what was going on until the though struck me that I might have lice. Sure enough I did and went through three treatments and my daughter nit picking my waist length thick hair ... and was facing a fourth treatment. None of my children had lice yet. I was facing the possibility that we could infect hundreds of community children through our interaction with them at church. I decided to make a radical and aggressive move. I shaved my head.

Interestingly, this India.Arie song was popular at the time:

India Arie feat. Pink - I am not my hair

And I came to realize that I am not my hair. It was an incredibly liberating thing to do and I learned so much by being bald ... about myself and about others. It prepared for another journey to come.

It's all about the hair

2009-10-25T21:46:00.001-04:00

It really does seem to be all about the hair. I remember pixie cuts and the Dorothy Hamill wedge and hot curlers and sponger rollers. My hair always drew attention and still does. There were times that people wanted to make it less. I remember being talked into getting a conservative haircut my senior year of high school. I cut my long Farrah Fawcett styled hair because of what someone else wanted me to do. And what is it with men and long hair? For years it was a battle of grow the hair out, cut it off, grow the hair out, cut it off. My husband always said he loved it no matter what but he really did like my long hair. No matter, soon I would learn that I am not my hair.

Hair Journaling

2009-10-24T22:48:00.001-04:00

I have been participating in Patti Digh's Write your Own Friday. This week she asks us to tell our stories about our hair. When I created my page yesterday with Norah's challenge, I knew I would use it to write my stories about hair. Seven women, seven pages, seven stories. In my own life, hair has had a significant meaning. Being a red head brings a lot of attention. And I notice that when I paint my women, I usually give them bold hair ... blue, collaged, doodled. Instinctively, I was telling my story. It just seems natural to continue.

Yesterday I told the story about cutting my own hair when I was fourteen. Everyone thought I was acting out after my parent's divorce. No. I needed a trim and I knew that the budget was tight and I was trying to save my mom some money. I thought I could just shape it up myself. It was a disaster but the worse part was that I accepted the definition that other people put on it. I never corrected them. It just seemed easier to let them believe the worse of me.

I have finished todays journal page but haven't written yet. That will come later.

It's time

2009-10-23T23:43:00.001-04:00

Creativity grabbed me just over three years ago and it won't let me go. Granted, I fight it frequently, thinking that I am too busy. But checking things off the to-do list never brings satisfaction to my soul. When I let the busyness of life take command, soon I am weak and grumpy ... much like when I don't physically feed myself well.

Here and there, I have done a few pieces of art. More so in my art journal than anywhere else. I have to give myself permission that even that is valid and worthy, that creating art for me, for the sake of creating, is enough.

But for the most part, I have been a bystander, observing what others are doing. I cannot let myself be content to idly watch as others create anymore. My purpose is to create. It is the balm of my soul.

It's time.

So, here we go.

Today has been a rough day. Physically, I haven't felt well. Can't really put my finger on it so I am attributing it to detoxing from medication for an allergic reaction I had last weekend. All day, I thought that I wanted to be doing something but never felt up to it. Finally, tonight, I just did it, regardless of what my body was saying.

Tonight, I took on Norah's Challenge, to create a face by smearing paints with an altered foam brush. This is the first time I have attempted a face without drawing it in first, just creating with paint. What an experience! Actually, I am fairly pleased with the outcome. I did this on a file folder because I figured it was just play. I think I am going to do more in this style and stitch them together to make a journal. There's plenty of room to write and painting and drawing women is my heart. Here's the photo's of today's play:

Before I added the background

Close Up:

The Journal Page:

A few thoughts about doubts

2009-10-20T05:25:00.002-04:00

From time to time, I become overwhelmed with my doubts. I began to lose sight of what faith can be, of the hope that it can inspire. But I am not willing to shove those doubts in a box, package them away, just because they have become difficult to deal with. I have to give them more of a place, let the light of love shine on them, the light that is present in others so that I can see them more clearly. In that light, the fear surrounding my doubts diminishes and they regain their proper place.

I can't do this alone. I don't want to do this alone. Today, Patti Digh shared this clip from the movie, Doubt with Phillip Seymour Hoffman:

"There are those of you in church today who know exactly the crisis of faith I describe. And I want to say to you: DOUBT can be a bond as powerful and sustaining as certainty. When you are lost, you are not alone."

Patti goes on to say, "Perhaps this is why people write and read blogs, to make their own pain a public experience, to share the wound." Yes, this is why I write, this is why I read. I can't do this alone and I don't want to do this alone. I need my online friends and I am finding more and more that I need a face to face community of faith and doubt.

At the beginning of this year, I threw out an invitation on meetup.com for those in our area who are people of faith and doubt to come together and have a conversation. Upstate Emergence has grown, large and small, but most importantly, deeper. These are the people who help hold the doubts in the light of love and who are helping me lose the fear of my doubts, to believe strongly again, to develop a hopeful faith.

Speaking of a community of faith and doubt or maybe I should say a tribe of community and faith, OH how I wish I could have gone to the Christianity 21 conference last weekend. Emerging Women has a list of blog responses from the conference but it certainly seems that most people are having trouble putting their experiences into words. That speaks volumes to me. I am saving my pennies to purchase the media pack so that I can at least hear the ideas that were presented. It won't be the same because I know that the biggest impact seems to have come from being there, participating in the conversation. Maybe next time.

I would like to share this highlight video from the event and as a final thought about doubt, quote and applaud Makeesha Fisher

"We are more often than not people of doubt who have beliefs
than people of faith who have moments of doubt."

It's not enrichment, this IS the education

2009-10-20T01:28:00.001-04:00

I keep forgetting to take my camera. We have been doing some really fun things lately and I keep forgetting to take my camera! It would be so much better to be able to share photos but a simple list will have to suffice for now:

We are blessed with two performing arts centers within reasonable driving distance, The Peace Center in Greenville and The Brooks Center at Clemson University. So far this year we have attended a performance by the Clemson University Orchestra, A Juggling Play, Tales of Poe, The Mad Scientist, Peter and the Wolf and many more are scheduled through April of next year.
Logan attends a class each month at The Greenville Zoo and the rest of us tag along for Tell me About it Tuesdays.
Roper Mountain Science Center hosted Harry Potter Science last week. The most favorite activity was making snotty slime in the potions class. Noah and Logan got to play Muggle Quidditch though I think they have decided that their version is better.
The Upcountry History Museum offers homeschooling Fridays and so far Noah and Logan have attended twice and all of them are scheduled to attend after the first of the year. The boys have enjoyed learning what people did for entertainment during the depression era, learning to make baseballs with twine and tape and learning how to swing dance. This last class was teaching them about World War 2 war propaganda, focusing on the cartoons produced by Disney during that time.
In August we had the joy of seeing original Monet paintings as the High Museum in Atlanta and I just received notice that the Leonardo Da Vinci exhibit just opened. Our own local art museum has just opened ther annual children's book illustration exhibit featuring the work of William Steig, creator of Shrek.

These are the things, at least some of the things, that we do. I don't consider them enrichment activities or extras. To think of them like that would consider them as something that could be skipped. These are the things that will not, cannot be missed. They are the education.

Whee, whee, WHEE, whee, Whee!

2009-10-19T21:55:00.002-04:00

So, did you read my post, How am I? If you did, then you know about my little trip to the hospital where they pumped me up on steroids. Yeah, pumped me up, up, UP! I am still flying. I have not slept at all and am in high gear still. Can't sit still, sleep is not even lurking in the shadows, you'd think I could get something productive done. Nope. My thoughts are pinging all over the place like a pinball machine. My moods are swinging from high to low. One minute I am super happy joyful the next I feel like I could stomp my people into the ground.

Ugh.

The question I keep asking ...

why, why, WHY would anyone do this to themselves voluntarily. Whether it is steroids or amphetamines or methamphetamines, I just can't understand why anyone would want to feel this way. Like I said, it might be one thing if I could actually accomplish anything but I can't focus as all.

I wonder where I will be when I finally crash. Hope it's somewhere safe.

How am I?

2009-10-19T04:30:00.002-04:00

Who am I? How am I? Just a few letters rearranged and the dynamics of that question change dramatically. I can make a running list of who I am ... a woman, a wife, a mother, a friend, an artist, a daughter, a sister. Maybe I even want to speak more poetically and say that I am a thinker, a dreamer, a believer, a doubter. But how am I? That makes me strip down the masks, the labels, the roles and become vulnerable. Maybe it's easier to write about what I do or even what I think or believe than to write about how I am. That's the stuff for diaries and journals, right?

But Barb asked and I am going to attempt to answer.

Today, I am stronger than I ever dreamed I could be yet at the same time, as unsure of myself as ever. My insecurities speak so loudly in my head that I find myself bound in immature thought processes and behaviors. That pains me. I am midlife, forty-five years old, with nine children and two grandchildren. Certainly, I should be more grown up than this. Even as I type, I question why I would want to admit to the blogging world (all five of you who read) that what you see in me may just be a facade. Am I looking for affirmation? for acceptance? Will I ever be free of the opinions of others?

What do you see when you look at me?

A strong woman, with thoughts and opinions. But most of the time, I feel a hundred steps behind other women of my generation. Those confident words that I speak are just me trying to convince myself that I have something of worth to say. I try to compensate for my lack of education, for my years of being taught that my voice was not important, for my spiritual and cultural upbringing that weighs me down with low expectation. When I am not trying to convey my knowledge, I am apologizing for my lack. Neither of these things reflect a true inner strength. I am stronger than I was but not strong enough yet.

Do you see the wife that I am becoming? Do you hear me when I say that I adore my husband? Can you believe how deeply that I love this man? So deeply that it frightens me. I mean that, seriously. That fear causes me to react in unloving ways sometimes. I want to protect myself from ....

Note: This post was interrupted by a trip to the hospital. While I was writing, I began having an allergic reaction to something ... possibly a peach I ate an hour earlier. Itching, rash, tongue swelling, difficulty breathing, take benadryl while daughter calls 911, feeling faint, ride in an ambulance, get motion sickness, it's always impressive to be vomiting while they are rolling you into the hospital, wait for an hour plus, IV fluids, anti nausea medicine, vomit more, wait one more hour, doctor finally comes in, prescribes a nice dose of steroids and pepcid by IV, twenty minutes later, I am signing out and heading to hear Susan Isaacs and Donald Miller on the Million Miles in a Thousand Years book tour. (Barb, hows that for letting you know how I am doing?)

Post continued:
I want to protect myself from loving too much. It makes me feel too vulnerable to love him as much as I do. This is probably the first time I am speaking this aloud, even to him. Granted, we have had our difficulties, like every marriage will. Some times have been more difficult than others and yes, there were moments that we didn't know if we would make it. But we did and I am so grateful. I can't imagine my life without him. The moments of believing beyond a shadow of a doubt that he gets me, he understands me more than anyone else sustain me.

This mother that you see before you now is not the mother that I always was. This is one area which that fear has lost it's grip. Are there concerns sometimes, are there doubts? Yes but those concerns and doubts are not the overwhelming fear that paralyzed me before, the fear that dictated every moment of my parenting journey. Mainly, I feared failure, my own personal failure. I saw it as my job to raise them up in the instruction of the Lord and any time they seemed to be falling short, I took the blame. There was never a day that I felt good enough as their mother. That was then and this is now. Today, I know that I am a good mother. I am NOT perfect; I mess up a alot and I hope that I ask for forgiveness a lot. Today, it is easier for me to see the wonderful people that my chlidren are, the adults that they are, the people that they have been becoming since their first breath.

As the emerging artist, I am moving beyond the first tentative new steps and starting to take bold, strong steps. I talk with certainty about what I do and what I want to do. But battling the inner critic is ever present in my life. It's difficult to take my own advice and believe that it's never too late to develop this skill, that what I do is good and important because it speaks of my inner creative spirit, that making art for my own edification is a good enough reason. It's not all about visual art. Even with my writing here and elsewhere. Too many things have been left unwritten because I have let the inner critic silence me. I figure someone else has already answered a question or said what I have to say so why be redundant? No one can tell my story though. That is why this is important. It is why it is important to take up my pencils, my pens, my paints, my glue and create the visual images of my story.

Probably, one of the things that is less visible about me, is my spiritual life. I am not an overt Christian any longer. Wow, I cringed when I wrote that. How many ways could that be misinterpreted. Let me try to explain because this is important to answers that question, "How are you?". For many years, the measure of a person's Christianity was what they could say that they think and believe, what they could prove and defend. It was the rule I placed on myself and on others. It's the standard that most Christians use to judge others. But, I came to realize that there was much that I was saying and not much that I was doing. In fact, during a most difficult season with my husband, I stopped telling him that I loved him. I had to because my actions were not lining up with my words. I wasn't patient. I wasn't kind. I was keeping record of wrong doing. Now I have turned down the volume on my spiritual life, my Christian life. It is known to me and to those who know me very well. And I am working on the practice of faith, not as just something I believe but as something that I do, especially when it comes to acting justly, loving mercy and walking humbly with my God.

Well, there it is, question answered at 4:00 in the morning since I can't sleep due to the steroids they gave me. I think I really agree with Barb regarding the questions we ask though. So, now ... tell me ... How are YOU?

Lifelong Learning

2009-10-18T00:16:00.001-04:00

I got an ipod for my birthday this year. Though I had scoffed at the idea a bit and had insisted it was just too small and I felt afraid that I would lose it, my ipod has become my constant companion. (Especially since we can't circumvent the anti-theft device on the radio in our van ... that's another story though) I have loved listening to my favorite music as well as discovering new music via my children. Much of my favorite music now was recommended by my children.

But the best thing about my ipod is listening to podcasts. I've spent weeks listening to Mars Hill teaching from last year (an entire year in the book of Philippians!). This American Life is alway interesting and recently, I discovered a wonderful unschooling podcast, Humans Being. Host Sara Parent has given me just the booster shot of encouragement that I needed recently as my doubts grew large. I highly recommend her podcast and now I see that she is also working on a magazine. Wonderful!

One of my favorite episodes of Humans Being is from a year ago, Unschooling Yourself, when Sara talked about the concept of lifelong learning and modeling this for our chlidren. This is a guiding princple in our lives and we constantly refer to the things we have really only learned as adults, out of school. Each day brings new opportunities. Today was a great example.

Chris has been hanging drywall and doors in our masterbedroom, has plans to knock out another wall, shrink our too-big bathroom and create an artist studio for me. Prior to a couple of months ago, Chris had never done any of this. But thanks to books, google, youtube videos and hiring someone for one day, he has learned to do it himself. And speaking of that art studio. That's for me, for my mixed media art that I have started creating in the last five years, utilizing online classes and lots of play and experimenting.

Chris is an avid birder and genealogist as well. My interest in cooking has been reignited recently after watching Julie and Julia and I started a book club to inspire me to read fiction again because most of the time, I am reading books about feminism and theology. We believe that one of the best things we can do is to model an active, interesting life for our children. They don't think in terms of one being too old to learn anything because we don't.

What about you? What are you learning lately?

It's not about the labels ... it's about loving, living and learning!

2009-10-13T08:51:00.001-04:00

Just discovered Eli Gerzon's blog yesterday via his post that begins "Columbus helped inspire me to leave school and start unschooling." (on that note Milva posted some great resources for learning the whole story of Christopher Columbus. I read from The Younger Person's Guide to United States History by Howard Zinn to the children yesterday.)

This morning I spent some time reading through a few of Eli's posts and discovered this comment. It was so good that I want to pull the first paragraph out to repost here.

Eli is correct on all accounts and has a well rounded flexible take on the Unschooling concept. I have but this to add. Unschooling is only a label. It is neither this or that. The words definition is your experience with it. it is guided by your child for your child. Do not get caught up in whether your a homeschooler, unschooler, world schooler, not back to schooler, the point is that your child is happy, enriched, informed, empowered and excited. Frankly if school is the antithesis of what we are doing, the word should not even be part of the terminology that we use to define ourselves. Glean all of the insights that you can from others, couple it with what you feel comfortable with and start there. It will evolve as both your child and yourself will.

This is beautiful advice and bears repeating over and over. Let go of the labels; they don't matter that much.

Recently my daughter, Katie, wrote a post, I love my Family and said,

We don't follow any of the rules (but in a good kind of way) Mommi and Daddy always taught us to ask questions, why do we do things the way we do? is it just because everyone says we should? Follow your heart, do what you love... it isn't about money or "the American Dream" it is about loving people and living a full life. We have as many friends my parents age as we do our own... we are definitely NOT socially ackward. maybe a little slow... but that is just because we soak everything in.

I love that she targeted our first two values so clearly ...loving and living. We rarely talk about learning because it is such an intrinsic part of our lives, so integrated that we don't separate at something we do. We are just learners.

Technorati Tags: unschooling, Columbus day, labels

Commitment to My Self

2009-10-11T22:17:00.002-04:00

Strike while the iron is hot. According to thefreedictionary.com, the definition of this idiom is: when you have an opportunity to do something, do it before you lose your chance. Yep. Good advice, I think, especially when the forty-five year old brain runs a little slower than it used to.

A couple of weeks ago, I composed a post in my head, while I was driving. It was going to be a wonderful post. My friend told me to write it as a reminder to her. Problem is, I didn't strike while the iron was hot and now I don't remember what the post was about.

I think it had something to do with women and the role of women in society and overcoming the oppressive messages that embed from an early age. This is a recent focus for me after spending years submitting to a false faith system that ranged from overtly treating women as second class citizens, if citizens at all, to cloaking a domineering mentality in such beguiling language it lured me and held me captive by my own good motives.

Today I am learning that I am valuable as a person and as woman. The most important person that I need to recognize that ... is ME! Today I am considering myself important enough to make a commitment to ...

a commitment to write those blog posts here, not just in my head.
a commitment to pick up the brush and create, for the sake of me.
a commitment to live the life that I love, learning and laughing with my family.

Priming the rusty pipe of my mind tonight has not brought forth that lost post. That's ok. If it is important to say, I can trust that my soul will push it forth in due time.

If not an unschooler, then what?

2009-10-11T16:28:00.001-04:00

Ok, a whole week later, but I am finally back to write more about being an unschooler or not.

If you haven't read Tammy's post that I referred to last week, please do so now. It is a must-read for anyone who is homeschooling, anyone who wants to travel their own unique educational journey.

Freedom. Tammy begins with a cry of FREEDOM. It's such a startling realization that there are few places that we can truly say who we are or who we are not. My own life has been marked by time spent in a very structured and legalistic mindset and as i began to make my way out of that, as I began to relax and enjoy the room to breathe, to become, I found there were other people waiting to put their expectations, their definitions, their rules on my experience. The bands started tightening again and I felt myself resisting, almost to the point of rejecting some things that are very important to me.

Too many years, I gave in to people dictating what my spiritual life should be and I walked out of the place that offered me freedom when they began putting their rules on what life should look like without the institution. Beginning homeschooling was the first really radical thing that I ever did and I felt so vulnerable that I heavily leaned on "experts" to guide me in my journey. I read tons of how-to books, attended conferences and just like with my spiritual life, with any part of my life that i was measuring myself according to a human standard, I felt like I fell short all of the time.

Ten years ago, I began to make my way out of that suffocating place and began to experience a life full of love and learning with my children. The cries of freedom rose strong within me. Until I met those whose sole purpose seemed to be to remind me that I was not good enough, that I was not what I said I was, that I didn't measure up. It was reminiscent of the legalistic mindset that I had encountered in the church and in my early homeschooling years; the same mindest that those very people would mock but theirs was the same, just a different flavor.

Recently, I stumbled across an interview with Barbara Brown Taylor as she talked about her spiritual journey out of the church and at the end she said

For a long time I listened to other people to decide whether I was still Christian or not. And about, I don’t know, two years ago, the great relief was I decided I got to say whether I was Christian or not. And so I’ve relaxed enormously since then. I say I am. I’m a follower of the Christ path. I’m a follower, and Ö I’m a follower.

I embraced that thought and determined that I will not let others place labels on me. I may use them to describe myself in a way that will help another person understand me a bit better but it is not the privilege of another to decide who I am or who I am not.

That is my freedom cry. It's not important whether or not I am an unschooler and one day I may say I am and another I may say I am not. That's my prerogative.

Not a Unschooler

2009-10-04T12:06:00.001-04:00

Just a few minutes this morning but I have put off posting far too long. Each night, I go to bed composing the post in my mind and just never sit down here to write it.

Last week, I think, I stumbled across this link on several unschooling blogs:

50 Eye Opening Unschooling Blogs

Number 43, under the subtitle of untraditional families, is a blog ... Loving, Living, Learning and my first thought was that somewhere else out there had my blog title! Then I clicked on the link and realized that it is my blog!

Ok, that's interesting. We are listed on an unschooling blog list as an untraditional family. All I can think is labels, labels, labels and none of them really fit or capture who we really are. Maybe untraditional is the best label for us but I sort of like unconventional better, I think.

I have been carrying this thought around in my head for weeks ever since I read Tammy's post: I am Radical but definitely not a Radical Unschooler; I'm not even an Unschooler. Yes and Amen, Tammy!

Now I am realizing that I am running out of time this morning and there is still so much more that I want to say? Do I just save the draft and come back to it, knowing that I might not? Writing this little bit may have released the pressure enough. If I publish it though, I may be more motivated to get back here tonight and really finish this post. I don't want to leave it hanging.

Don't you just love listening in on the conversations that are happening in my head while I am writing?

I'll be back tonight ....

Friday night Highlight

2009-09-18T23:22:00.003-04:00

Friday nights are the highlight of my week. Despite the difficulty that I have sitting still, not multitasking and focusing my attention for 90 - 120 minutes on a movie, I have a firm commitment with my children each Friday. We have homeschool co-op in the morning and afternoon, then we go pick up groceries, buying pizza for dinner then home to watch a movie together.

I have watched tons of movies with them through the years but usually while doing something else, making lists, reading, catching up on emails. But about two years ago, I decided that they deserve my whole attention and I have disciplined myself to sit with them, without distractions.

It has been one of the most rewarding things I have ever done.

Tonight, we watched Disney's Tarzan. I marvel that my eighteen year old daughter and my sixteen year old son still want to watch these family movies. In fact, the sixteen year old son chose Tarzan tonight and sometime in the near future, I think Beauty and the Beast is on the agenda. I love that they love this movie mostly for the music, that they know and love Phil Collins. I have to say it ... I have the coolest kids!

Here's to family pizza/movie night!

Thursday Thirteen -- Words that are fun to say

2009-09-17T21:14:00.006-04:00

Sometimes words just feel fun in your mouth when you say them ... or maybe I am just weird that way. Here's a list of thirteen words that I like to say just because of how fun they are to say:

conundrum
magnanimous
cacophony
discombobulated
decrepit
snarky
persnickety
schnitzel
shenanigans
phantasmagoria
lolly gag
serendipity
falafel

Wordless Wednesday

2009-09-16T22:55:00.003-04:00

Slow down

2009-09-15T23:19:00.009-04:00

Earlier today, my friend Kent posted the following as his facebook status:

"It's just painfully sad anymore for me to watch people working so hard to keep all the balls in the air. I know that some stuff is necessary, but it's a wonderful day when you begin to allow yourself to imagine that maybe all that you are doing might not be. And you find the courage to let balls begin to hit the floor."

My mind went back to yesterday, to that stop by the grocery store on the way home. If you remember, I was having a bit of a rough start to my day. As I was walking through the store, I began to just feel frantic. The weight of theundones was pressing in on me from all sides. I became very aware of the feeling and just stopped and said to myself, "There is no need to feel frantic. There is time. Just breathe, pick out some cucumbers, notice how green the celery is, oh, look ... green grapes are on sale.

A calmness washed over me. Later I would so thankful that I settled down and took the time to purchase the veggies and fruit. Our trip to the mountains was spontaneous and it was so nice to be able to grab the fresh food, a cutting board and knife and be on our way. It's lovely that my children generally eat healthy and are appreciative of our simple meals.

It is probable that Kent is referring to bigger things with deeper meaning but I was just captivated by the idea that I could relax and let the undone balls hit the floor. My hands were free to capture the beautiful moments that awaited.

Words of a favorite song come to mind ...

Slow down, you move too fast.
You got to make the morning last.
Just kicking down the cobble stones.
Looking for fun and feelin' groovy.

Ba da, Ba da, Ba da, Ba da...Feelin' Groovy.

Hello lamp-post,
What cha knowin'?
I've come to watch your flowers growin'.
Ain't cha got no rhymes for me?
Doot-in' doo-doo,
Feelin' groovy.

I've got no deeds to do,
No promises to keep.
I'm dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep.
Let the morning time drop all its petals on me.
Life, I love you,
All is groovy

Push me Pull me

2009-09-14T22:54:00.005-04:00

I don't want to write tonight. I do. But I don't.

But I have to because I have been neglecting it far too long and though I am not sure at all that I have anything to say, I have to write.

This morning I fought back erratic thoughts and tears on the way to my chiropractic appointment, reasoning with myself that I did not want to go in with puffy, red eyes. I gave myself permission to do that on the way home but not on the way there. So instead, I embarrassed myself by falling apart during my appointment. Thankfully my Chiropractor is so much more than that ... he is a friend and a man of great, gentle Christian faith and even more thankfully he had a little extra time for me when I tearfully said, "I think I am having a crisis of faith."

He listened to the few words that stumbled out of my mouth and encouraged me. The most profound thing he said to me, the words that brought the most peace were, "It's ok not to believe. God will still be there." Seems sort of paradoxical, I know but somehow it makes sense to me.

After acknowledging my fatigue (which is more than just physical and mostly spiritual), he softly admonished me to rest, eat well, drink water and maybe just spend some time outside.

I did that today. After a few minor breakdowns and quite a few tears, most of my day was spent in a quiet joy enjoying the beautiful mountain scenery with my family. On the ride up, I thought about what is going on in my life right now and I realized that I've got some priorities out of order and I am neglecting the very essentials that bring me life and energy. As I have plugged in more activities that drain me, I haven't made time for more things that will fuel me. In fact, I have ignored those because I am too busy with these other wonderful yet depleting activities.

Writing here, on this blog, is one of the things that I do that fills me up. Somehow, the process of pouring the ideas and thoughts in my head and heart not only energizes me but brings calm and clarity.

So tonight, though I think I am too busy, though my thoughts seem too scattered to bring together, though I don't want to, I write.

Off and Running

2009-08-26T06:50:00.001-04:00

Off and running? Not quite. But we are up and walking.

This week is a week to get started.

I knew better than to set myself up for failure by dumping a full load on all of us the first week. Plus I am still tweaking some things and deciding exactly what we need to do in different subjects.

For now we are starting with math and science. I've added a list on my sidebar of the resources we are using right now. Teaching Textbooks is our choice for math. We are playing some catch up after not doing formal math for awhile. Unschooling math has been successful and there are elements of that thought process that I still cling to but as it is essentially about following their lead, it was time to become a little more focused.

I signed our youngest son up for an electronics course online with Quick Study Lab and we are all following along. Though this particular course is described for being for ages 8 and up, without my input, I think most of this would by beyond his comprehension. I find the explanations bounce between being very clear and somewhat jumbled so I am working to bring some clarity to it. Today I will visit my first choice of resources ... the juvenile section at the library. I always say, if you want to learn something, start with a children's book. Simple explanations and colorful illustrations go a long way in creating a foundation of understanding. All in all, building with the snap kit is fun for all of us and I enjoy being involved with them and learning as well.

We are also implementing a couple of new organizational ideas which I hesitate to talk about yet. Rule of thumb: If you haven't used it and had good results for at least two months, don't write about it.

Next week, we will add in all our language arts and co-op starts!

God of this City

2009-08-23T06:47:00.004-04:00

I have totally set myself up. My facebook status yesterday said, "Someone remind me to write the blog post that I don't have time to write now ... keywords: God of this City" Now, I am going to write it and there isn't some grand idea or conclusion, just sort of a stream of consciousness that started when I was listening to my iPod (and yes, singing along with it) while I was working yesterday.

Friday I added some music from our main computer to my i-pod. New music (Band of Horses, Augustana), old music (Best of Fleetwood Mac) and a few familiar worship songs. Few being the keyword, only three, yet while shuffling through, my iPod played this song

And I found myself cycling through all sorts of thoughts and emotions.

The song starts of with these lines:
You're the God of this City
You're the King of these people
You're the Lord of this nation
You are

Really? Really. What does that mean? In my city, there certainly isn't a consensus on if there is a god, who that God is and how to worship God. So is this being sung as a present fact, a future manifestation or a unreachable ideal? I know I am asking unanswerable questions. That's ok. I am just thinking, processing.

The idea that God is the Lord of this nation makes me uncomfortable because again, regarding my just expressed questions, what does this mean? It makes my mind wander to all sorts of places ... "taking back America for God", Dominion Theology, reclaiming the 7 mountains of culture. Christian American patriotism makes me nervous. I just can't justify this nation as especially favored by God and the idea that America is a Christian nation is a myth.

But even as the objections are swirling in my mind, I am caught up in the emotion of the song.

You're the Light in this darkness
You're the Hope to the hopeless
You're the Peace to the restless
You are

We believe, We believe, God

For greater things have yet to come
And greater things are still to be done in this City
Greater things have yet to come
And greater things are still to be done in this City.

I want this. I want to believe. I want to be sure.

Sometimes, I long for the certainty, the simple certainty I had before the questions rolled over me. I think sometimes I grieve what I left there. But there is no going back. My simple faith was manufactured in fear. Shedding the fear is bringing me into freedom, a wild untamed but good freedom. At the end of the day, I know this. But it can certainly make me feel vulnerable.

While all this is processing in my mind, I remember the first time I ever sang this song. Upstairs, brick walls, exposed beams, windows thrown open, acoustic guitar and the strength of a hundred or so voices raising this song. It was heartfelt. These were people wanting to make a difference, big and small, wanting to meet the physical, emotional and spiritual needs of this community. I wanted to be a part of that, to work with them, to join in this one Spirit. It felt good to have our voices united together in this song. I would probably still be there were it not for their teachings about marriage and parenting. I can't align myself with people who suggest my marriage is not Biblical because my husband and I describe our marriage as egalitarian, with mutual respect and submission. I can't align myself with people who promote physical punishment of children from the "pulpit, describing in detail how it is practiced in their home.

Where does that leave me? Today I feel spiritually melancholy. Though I miss what was, I know I won't ever be in that place (literally and figuratively) again. In some ways, this can be good. In the absence of an emotional chorus of belief, in the absence of certainty, in the absence of all that I once experienced, there is only God. I don't even know what that means really but I want to know. That's my journey now.

Keeping it Real

2009-08-22T08:07:00.001-04:00

I have been busy cleaning off bookshelves, organizing supplies and taking inventory of what resources we have at our disposal to move forward with our school year.

Having just written that, I cringe. I really hate to use the word school. I am an unschooler at heart and thankfully so, as the last couple of years, I have been less engaged with the children's education than I am comfortable admitting. I've watched them continue to learn, to grow, to think and in some ways, I wonder why I should mess with any success I have seen. On the other hand, this moving forward, changing directions is the very thing that they are asking for so in the spirit of unschooling and following their lead, a bit more structure is in our future.

Regarding uncomfortable admissions, I had this conversation with a friend last night about being honest on our homeschooling blogs, painting the real picture. I have fallen victim to discouragement after spending an afternoon reading homeschool blogs and the descriptions of nature walks, science experiments and living math. Those photos of organized school rooms, planners and file boxes, shiny, happy children do me in every time. Do we have moments like these? Yeah, I guess so but they are just moments of many moments and some of the others are just atrocious ... like the time I threw a Saxon Math book across the room. Not proud of that and it was uncomfortable admitting that at a homeschool support group meeting, but I will say that when I did, there was a collective sigh of relief in the room. I think many other moms were wondering if they were the only ones who had less than perfect days.

I want to be honest here. It pains me to have to admit that I really unplugged from my kids for awhile, in some ways. In others, I have stayed very close to them. But as someone who has taken on the responsibility of facilitating my children's education at home, I need to stay focused on what my priorities are. I lost that vision for awhile.

Thankfully, the spark has been reignited and in part, I owe that to my above mentioned friend. She started the ball rolling for herself and I quickly got caught up in the inspiration. Speaking of her, she has written an excellent post, giving one of the most important pieces of advice for your homeschooling success. Hint: It's not about the curriculum.

In coming days, I will post more specifics about what we are doing, how we are doing, when and where. Maybe I will become better at taking photos and quicker at uploading them so that you can see my shiny, happy children eagerly learning all that they can. Can't promise that but what I can promise is reality. There will be much wonderful to share and some not-so-wonderful as well. I hope you will be inspired by what could be and encouraged that what is is probably normal and common to us all.

Who's Life?

2009-08-18T06:47:00.004-04:00

What would you need to know about me? What would give you insight to this person who writes here . . . who records thoughts, dreams, tears, laughter, questions and sometimes answers.

There used to be a list of things I would run down to tell you about me.

I am a wife … of one man, strong and handsome. He is the love of my life and I am ever grateful for his patience and willingness to grow.

I am a mother … of many. Nine children have been nurtured in my womb, in my home. They have taught me to live, to laugh, and to love like I never knew was possible.

I am now a grandmother -- two times over. Grandsons who remind me of the joy and challenge that babies bring.

Most importantly, I used to think, would be for you to know that I am a Christian. But I hardly even use that label anymore … it is a word that as been franchised and used for control, power and harm and I hardly tolerate identifying myself as such. The dilemma is that there are no other terms that really fit. Maybe one of the reasons that I write here is that I am trying to work out what my spirituality is, what that means and how it makes me who I am.

As you visit here, and I hope that you return frequently, you will come to know me through the stories that I tell, through the passions that I share, through the life I portray with my words. It’s all too intricate to be told in a few paragraphs … it takes time to know a life.

The Mermaid Chair

2009-08-16T07:51:00.006-04:00

A week ago, if you were at White Water Six Flags and saw someone sitting a table in the corner reading The Mermaid Chair by Sue Monk Kidd, that was me.

If you noticed that the someone was crying while reading and I mean really crying ... not just controlled sniffles and an occasional wiping at the eyes but the full blown, near hysterics, snotty crying, yeah, that was me.

This book slammed me with parallels of my own spiritual and marriage journey. Now, you will read the book and might draw some wrong conclusions about that statement. If you know me well, you will know exactly what I mean. If you don't, feel free to ask. My life is pretty much an open book.

Ever since I came home last week, I have wanted to write a post sharing the quips and passages that grabbed me and shook me hard enough to bring on those tears. I don't know that I am up to much interpretation or adding dialogue to the quotes so I think I will just let them stand for what they are.

"I have come here not to find answers," he'd written in his notebook that first year, "but to find a way to live in a world without any."

Of course he'd taken the name Brother Thomas because he was the resident doubter, and it was practically a cliche', but he took it anyway. He doubted God. Perhaps he would find there had never been a God. Or he would lose one God and find another. He didn't know. Despite this, he felt God the same way the arthritic monks felt rain coming in their joints. He felt only the hint of him.

He was quiet a moment, watching a small egret fishing in the shallows at the edge of the water. "sometimes I experience God like this Beautiful Nothing." he said. "And it seems then as though the whole point of life is just to rest in it. To contemplate it and love it and eventually disappear into it. And then other times it's just the opposite. God feels like a presence that engorges everything. I come out here, and it seems the divine is running rampant. That the marsh, the whole of Creation, is some dance God is doing, and we're meant to step into it, that's all. Do you know what I mean?

"You know how couples always saw, 'We just grew apart?' That's what I wanted to say at first. To believe that my discontent came from distance between us. It's logical to think that after twenty years. But I don't believe that was it. We didn't grow apart, we grew too much together. Too enmeshed and dependent on each other. I guess I needed --" I stopped. I didn't know what to call it. "What comes to my mind are ridiculous things like 'my own space,' my independence,' but they sound so shallow. They don't capture it."

"I know, it's hard to explain an impulse like that. The day I told my law partners I was coming here, they laughed like I was joking." He shook his head and smiled a little, as if the memory amused him. "I never could make them understand that what I needed was somehow to be alone with myself. In a spiritual way, I mean."

As he'd talked, his gaze had been on the twists and turns in the creek, but now he leveled it on me, "Around here they call it "a solitude of being."

My eyes slowly began to fill up. Because I did understand what he meant, because he was offering these words to me -- a solitude of being -- and they were perfect.

How often did we do that, he wondered -- look at someone and fail to see what's really there?

"We all fail one another," he said.

There was only so much I could say to her. I drew a breath. "This will sound ridiculous, I guess, but my life had started to feel so stagnant, like it was atrophied. Everything shrunk down to the roles I played. I had loved doing them, Dee, I really had, but they were drying up, and they weren't really me. Do you understand? I felt there had to be some other life beneath the one I had, like an underground river or something, and that I would die if I didn't dig down to it."

I felt amazed at the choosing one had to do, over and over, a million times daily -- choosing love, then choosing it again, how loving and being in love could be so different.

Each day we pick our way through unfamiliar terrain. Hugh and I did not resume our old marriage -- that was never what I wanted, and it was not what Hugh wanted either -- rather we laid it aside and began a whole new one. Our love is not the same. It feels both young and old to me. It feels wise, as an old woman is wise after a long life, but also fresh and tender, something we must cradle and protect. We have become closer in some ways, the pain we experienced weaving tenacious knots of intimacy, but there is a separateness as well, the necessary distances.

I look toward the window. I want to tell him. Yes, I'm coming back, Hugh. When I die, it will be your face I see hovering over me, whether in flesh or in memory. Don't you know? What I want is you. What I want is the enduring. The beautiful enduring.

Another blog? Really?

2009-08-11T11:10:00.000-04:00

I am starting over. Again.

Why? and is this an easy thing to do?

Those are the questions that I am asking myself.

My wanderlust has kicked in and I can't stay in the same place. Sometimes, I think I would have been very happy being a nomad. I need new things, new adventures and challenges, new scenery.
We have lived in the same place for fifteen years and most of the those years we haven't been able to rearrange much. Eleven people living in an 1800 square foot mobile home makes for a tight squeeze, with not much room for alternate layouts. Functionality has been the rule and I am just now beginning to break out of that.

So, in the wisdom of the prayers that asks for serenity to accept what can't be change and courage to change what can ... I am changing blogs.

Courage to change blogs? Really?

Yes.

I am finding that my decision to totally leave behind my blog, to not try and import posts over here, is requiring a hefty dose of courage.

But it is time.

My writing there from the beginning in 2004, for the next five years, was in the midst of a huge paradigm shift in my life. I am not who I was when I began. Probably none of us are now who we were were five years ago. But the changes for me have been so significant that I can hardly recognize who wrote at the start and the process is almost painful for me to read through.

I won't delete the blog. Many friends were made there. Comments that I would like to preserve. It is important to revisit from time to time. So it will still be there for posterity's sake.

As for here and now, I can't even write an introduction yet. I am pondering what words could capture this new creation that I have become, am becoming. It will come to me, I think. Probably in the midst of the dust that is being stirred up while I clean out and rearrange.

Hang in here with me while I make this new place my home. When I stop to take a break, I will sit and chat for awhile. Soon, very soon, will be time for a nice long conversation over a cup of coffee or tea.

Until then,

"Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow."

Loving, Living, Learning ... and Laughing

2009-08-11T07:55:00.001-04:00

Let's talk about the blog title.

Sometime ago, Tammy at Just Enough and Nothing More issued a challenge to describe your homeschooling philosophy in just 30 seconds. My answer to that was and still is loving, living and learning.

It's quite simple really. Nothing I can teach my children will be more important than raising them to be loving, kind individuals. So our primary focus is love and what that really means toward how we live our lives. It's not something we approach academically or even philosophically. Rather it is OJT ... on the job training. Or more accurately, TDT ... through the day training. It's not about what we do but how we do it.

Living isn't really second as it isn't a linear list. Living is just what we do. Again, focusing on doing that well. Living in balance. Taking care of our bodies, our minds, our spirits. Practical skills will come from the chore lists, the errands we run, the projects we tackle together.

Learning is inevitable. In fact, unschoolers have an official Learn Nothing Day to illustrate and emphasize that very point. Learning is inevitable. At least, I hope that we are living our lives so that is a true statement in our home. Stirring our curiosity, increasing our skill levels so that we can pursue whatever knowledge lures us, challenging ourselves to be aware of all there is to learn.

Notice that I speak of us. This isn't just a philosophy that is applied to our children but to us, as parents, as well. It's a good rule of life, I think. Love. Live. Learn. Hmmm, I think I just thought of another one. Laugh. Yeah, there should definitely be a lot of laughter. Maybe I will add that to my title as well.

Yesterday, I added the subtitle "this is how we live our life" Immediately I thought that doesn't agree. Speaking of we, I should have said "how we live our lives" There are individual lives being led but at the same time, there is this entity that is us, that is family. The individual lives are part of making up that one life. That one life is the subject of this blog.

But you've still yet to meet the individuals. Be patient, be patient, introductions are still to come.

Here I go again

2009-08-08T22:08:00.001-04:00

Here I go again. That's the thought that came to mind as I sat to write tonight, to write this first post. How many times have I started a homeschooling blog? How many times have I altered, changed or deleted said blog? Too many. And yet, here I go again. Starting another, attempting to capture this life that is mine, learning with my children.

For some reason, when I began tonight, the title of this post came immediately to my mind. Here I go again. But then, of course ... well, if you know me at all, you would say "of course" ... a song came to mind, I could hear it in my head as I typed. Not here I go again ... but Here it Goes Again. Though the lyrics may not fit, I tend to think this elaborate choreography on the treadmills more than adequately illustrates the managed chaos that is our life together.

If you don't know me or mine, introductions are to come.

Until then,

Love deeply, Live out Loud, Learn always.

Faithful Lamenting

2009-08-01T23:13:00.001-04:00

Inspired by Lament by The Dirt and the Flood

I am captivated by the concept of lamenting and the role it plays in our faith walk. Originally, I wanted to do this piece in grays, browns, muted colors to represent the lamenting. But , as I began to work, the rich colors that I love would not leave. Then I realize that in my moments of lament, there was still belief, there was still faith. A paradox, I know, but most of my journey with God has been full of those seemingly contradictions. I believe it is an added burden to interpret our lamentations as a lack of faith. The color is there as a reminder that the tears of lament can still be full of faith.

My Truth

2009-07-17T23:16:00.001-04:00

2009-07-07T23:17:00.001-04:00