Thankful Thursday

Today, like many Thursdays, I'm thankful for our home meeting.

Home Meeting: (n.) A gathering of Christian believers in a home in order to share fellowship, and usually food, with one another in order to encourage each other for the edification of the Body of Christ.

For the past four years, we've opened our home on Thursday nights, often not knowing whether two or twelve will walk through the door with tummies a-growl. Our average demographic has shifted, over the years, from couples around our age with young children, to single folks in the their late twenties who are working for pay or an advanced degree. And this time has taught me one lesson: I AM NOT IN CONTROL.

Over the years, people have come and gone. A very few have come nearly every week for a year, two, three. A few have drifted in and out with barely a blip on our radar screen. A few have become regulars and eventually left, often due to a geographical move or even to answer a call for full-time service, but occasionally for unexplained reasons. I've been known to shed tears when that happens, because it seems almost impossible not to take a departure like that personally. I clean, I cook, I open the door, I try to touch base with everyone who comes through it to let them know their presence is a gift to us, I spend a little time at the table with everyone, then I retire to put my reluctant children to bed. When someone leaves, it not only feels like an uprooting of the almost-family relationship, but also a failure on my part. Was it something I did or didn't do? Something I said? Was the food too spicy, too hot, too cold, too salty, too plain, too gourmet? (Okay, not that last.)

Many times, at moments like these, I've asked the Lord whether we should let the meeting go. And every time, His answer has been something along these lines: Yes, you should let it go. But not in the way you think. Let it go out of your hands and let it be more fully Mine.

In the process of learning that this time is His and not mine to direct, control, and own, more peace and joy have stolen in. With less help these days, I'm doing more of the cooking on my own, but the simple act of chopping vegetables becomes a walk up to Zion. If anxiety pokes its nose in to wonder whether there will be enough for unannounced guests, I remind Him that this time and this home are His and that I expect Him to provide.

This letting go thing is such a hard-won joy, I'm wondering if it would work in other areas of my life as well. You think?

Baby steps. Baby steps.

Math for Jedi Knights

Remember my gushy post about the amazing-ness of my fellow moms?

So. I have this friend. Her name is Elsie. She assists me in our homeschool co-op on Fridays when I teach about Japan to eight delightful girls first period. She is a fabulous assistant. Then, I assist her when she teaches about Ancient Greece to eight delightful girls third period. She is a fabulous teacher. 

What does Elsie do during second period? you ask. Answer: She teaches Jedi Math. Fabulously, of course. And during lunch, she feeds ideas into my brain, where they spin around, breed, multiply, and pop out at home. The result is more exciting than a ride on the Millennium Falcon as it makes the jump into hyperspace. Especially since the Math Facts Drill Hating Force is strong around here. 

For example ...

1. Luke, Han and Leia Vs. the Trash Compactor. Remember that scene in Star Wars (Episode 4) where those three heroes are stuck in the trash compactor, desperately trying to radio C3PO for help before they're smunched to death? Well, we use multiplication flashcards, and we're trying to get through the whole deck before we get flattened. I make the last card the "magic code," and when my young Jedi solves it, he's cracked the code and stops the compactor JUST IN TIME. Whew!

2. Anakin's Pod Race. Again, the flash cards (which we made as an art project). This time, he's Anakin in his pod racer from Episode 1. We use the stopwatch function on my iPod, and his previous time -- the time to beat -- is Sebulba, Anakin's main competitor in the pod race. If he finishes faster, Anakin wins. If the stopwatch finishes faster (hasn't happened yet), Sebulba wins. Go Anakin!

3. Find R2D2. Using the "line drawings" function in Google Images, I found simple images of R2D2 and C3PO, who go together like bread and butter, Gilbert and Sullivan, me and 70% dark chocolate. I printed about thirty copies of each, laminated them, and cut them out. Using dry-erase or wet-erase markers, I write the multiplication (or for Eliza, addition) facts on all the C3PO's, and all the answers on the R2D2's. We scatter them on the floor. Young Mathwalker works to joyfully reunite the matches. Awww ...

4. Word Problems. With a cursory knowledge of the Star Wars Universe, or a little help from a book like Star Wars: The Complete Visual Dictionary - The Ultimate Guide to Characters and Creatures from the Entire Star Wars Saga, one can come up with any number of zany word problems. Here are a few from this morning. Help yourself. 

1. Anakin is checking the fuel situation on his pod racer before the big race. His fuel gauge shows that his tank is three fifths  (3/5) full of fuel. Meanwhile, his chief competitor's tank is seven tenths (7/10) full. Whose pod racer is more likely to finish the race before running out of fuel -- Anakin or Sebulba?

2. Queen Amidala uses white nail polish as a tradition from her native village. This morning she painted half of her nails before being interrupted by a messenger from the Senate. How many fingernails does she still need to paint?

3. Jedi Master Qui-Gong Jinn has been training his apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi, to use his light saber. Today they practiced for one hour. Yesterday they practiced for an hour and a half. How many minutes in total have they practiced this week? If they're aiming for 300 minutes by the end of the week, how many hours and minutes do they still need to practice?

My nine year old is the only one who does much formal math around here, and he happens to be somewhat obsessed with the ways of the Force. So, how's he feeling about math practice these days? 

Much improved, his attitude is. 

Le Migration

And now, under the category of "Netflix-schooling ..."


I hate to even admit this on a gorgeous day like today, but we're watching Winged Migration.

It's almost wordless, at moments poignant, at other moments funny, and overall incredibly beautiful. And yes, it's holding the attention of a four year old.

Have you seen it? If you liked Planet Earth or March of the Penguins, go thou and put this in thy queue. Those French, zey have zeir ways with de filme.

Begin with the End in Mind

The above is the result of a breakfast table discussion between the kids and me on the morning of our departure for a short vacation last week. In case you're wondering, the black letters can only be described as a Learning Experience, which we shall call "Permanent Marker is Not The Best Choice for Dry Erase Boards."

Hey. We all have to learn these life lessons sooner or later.

The four red marks represent everyone's vote AFTER we filled in the grid together. See, I realized that too many times, we depart for a trip in a high-stress flurry, with the Professor and I sulking in the front seat over the kids' failure to pitch in to an ideal degree. "All hands on deck?" Make that a few fingers. But usually, that's because we never quite transferred the thought, "We should all work together to make this trip happen" from our brains to the kids' ears. There's no group buy-in on the "all hands on deck" mission.

So this time, we began with the end in mind. And lo, our departure was both peaceable and reasonably prompt. Larks serenaded us on our way down our street, and angels flew by strumming their golden harps. Fluffy little kittens waved bye-bye.

Fast-forward to the vacation. We take this trip twice a year with my in-laws to a resort in San Antonio. And when I still had a babe in arms or a toddler in diapers, the idea of plopping myself in a beach chair and zoning out for the duration was simply out of the question. But now that all my kids are fairly self-sufficient and like to run in a pack with their cousins, I have more of a choice. Part of me wants to just relaaaaax. (And, truthfully, I do.) To slip the moorings of their demands and needs and lose myself in a book. To not get chlorine in my hair.

But. I have an end in mind. That end is a vision of a family that plays together instead of just making it from one day to the next. Of grown children who include time with their parents as part of their fondest memories. Of time spent deliberately enjoying them, rather than just managing them. Of no regrets, once they enter the years when bobbing around the pool with Mom and Dad has decidedly lost its lustre.

So, the Professor and I both endeavor to strike a balance. We need rest. The kids need independence. We also need them to grow up without us growing old, which means making a point of having fun together. That balance is different for every family, and kids whose loving parents don't play with them on vacation will probably turn out JUST FINE. I mean, they might grow an extra digit and develop a lifelong nervous twitch, but other than that? JUST FINE.

But with faces like these, who can resist?

The Four Cups

A couple weeks ago, I enrolled in a parenting seminar. Guess what? It's sort of hard to admit that, which is why I'm doing it. Should there be any shame in admitting your skills in the World's Most Important Job could be honed? 

I don't think so. 

Anyway, the material for this course comes from the rather oddly named Real Restitution (website not so explanatory) and is based on control theory. Rather than diving into tricks and techniques for handling sticky situations with the kids, we've spent the first two weeks looking at big-picture issues like understanding WHY we choose to do what we do, why coercion doesn't work, why and how we attempt to control other people or allow other people to control us, what motivates us to change our actions, what we consider to be an ideal child and an influential adult, and the five basic human needs. 

There's a lot to think, talk, reflect, and write about. For the purpose of brevity and clarity, I'll try to rein myself in and focus on one thing at a time. 

Obviously, the questions we're discussing around a dining room table on a Sunday afternoon apply to any human relationship, including our relationship to ourselves (and, if you're a person of faith, to God). So here's a brief description of the five basic human needs: 

1. Safety/survival -- food, shelter, water, security, etc. 

2. Love and Belonging -- unconditional acceptance, care, connection with others

3. Power -- self-control, competence, capability, effectiveness with integrity

4. Freedom -- freedom from harm and to make choices, express ourselves, etc. 

5. Fun -- playfulness, spontaneity, humor, delight of learning

(Note: these concepts are expanded on in the book My Child is a Pleasure, written by Diane Gossen.)

Here's the kicker: We ALL have these needs, just in different relative capacities. You may have a large love and belonging need, medium freedom and fun needs, and a lower power need. If so, you're a lot like me! Or at least, my best estimation of me. Or you may have a big power need and a low fun need, with the others somewhere in the middle. You get the picture. 

Our need levels (picture four cups of water; the survival need doesn't count because it's a given for everyone) can fluctuate from day to day or from life phase to life phase, or even moment to moment, depending on our circumstances. But they tend to motivate much of how we feel and behave. And … how our KIDS feel and behave.

I'm planning to do this exercise with my husband and kids to see how they view their own needs. But already, I've been observing them to figure out what their needs profile might be. I've realized that one of my daughters, for example, has a huge love and belonging need, so when she comes to me crying, she probably needs a hug.  Nine times out of ten, the crying is a response to hurt feelings -- i.e. a broken connection. The other has a bigger power need, so her tears are more likely from frustration; a simple "Do you need some help doing this?" would fit the purpose. And I think my son's primary need is for freedom. Can you see why my largest need might be for dark chocolate? 

Kidding. 

You don't have to answer this, but how do you see your own cups? What's the one of the four you could most easily do without? Which could you NEVER do without?  How do they rank relative to each other? How are your levels right now? What about your kids?

Of course, from there we start to distinguish between needs and wants, which are ways we choose to try to meet our needs. Sometimes the wants can be satisfied; often they cannot. Maybe the temptation to snack all the time is a way to meet a freedom need (our instructor's example). As we understand what's going on, we can figure out other, healthier ways to meet the need. As kids learn this, they can to. 

So, this is a journey my family and I will be undertaking together, not something I'm going to be doing TO them. Without going into any "how to's" yet, this class already seems to be having an effect on our home. Today I chewed one of the kids out for violating a clear rule. A few minutes later, after some reflection and some eating of humble pie, I called him back and said, "I'm sorry.  That is not the kind of parent I want to be. I don't want to lecture you, but I lost my temper and said too much. Will you forgive me?"

Restitution. Peace. 

(P.S.In case you're wondering how faith fits into all of this, I would propose that our deepest need is for something higher than ourselves, which our family recognizes as God. I believe that growing as Christians means allowing getting that need met first, and that over a lifetime of maturing spiritually, filling that need takes care of all the other needs as well. We're all just at different places in that process.)

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

It's a day early, but since we'll be with our extended family tomorrow, why not "go green" a little ahead of time? 

Can you believe that despite a childhood in BOSTON, of all places, I never understood an iota of what St. Patrick's Day was all about? I had a vague impression of leprechauns, shamrocks, and Irish jigging, and that was about it. 

Then my kids and I learned about the real [St.] Patrick in our medieval history study a couple years ago. If you're interested, Adventures in Odyssey makes a gripping retelling of the story in the episode "Patrick: A Heart Afire" which can be downloaded from iTunes or bought as part of the album Days to Remember. Warning: This episode can be a bit intense, and alludes to the human sacrifices the early Celts made, so consider your child's age and sensitivity. 

Since we'll be with the family, we're going to do it up Irish style for dinner. I'm planning to make colcannon, soda bread, and "Shamrock Shakes," and I'll be lucky if all six kids eat anything but the Shamrock Shakes. Should be fun! 

When the World is Puddle-Wonderful ...

(Name that poem)

Signs that Spring Has Arrived:

1. My children play outside for hours. It helps that the neighbor has a trampoline and an open-gate policy. .

2. The Professor does his semi-annual rant about Daylight Savings Time. Sometimes he actually writes to our Congressperson about it. Sometimes he just threatens to. It's an important family tradition, I guess.

3. Trees that looked barren a week ago have burst into blossom. Particularly the Bradford Pears. Beauty and pollen allergies walk hand in hand.

4. I begin working in my flower garden again, pondering spiritual parallels and making mental apologies to our home's former owner, who had the time and know-how to keep the landscaping in tiptop condition. (When we bought the house, he made us a TWO HOUR VIDEO about how to take care of the house and grounds. I'm still waiting for the Professor to make the popcorn for that one.)

5. I think about spring cleaning. Then I go outside and read a book.

6. I feel a deep sense of gratitude that we longer reside in my state of origin, where March usually comes in like a lion ... and goes out like one too. Believe me, when you live in New England, by the time March rolls around you are JUST SO READY for winter to be over. The cold is old. The snow is old. The short short days are old. The slush is old. The hacking cough is old. But wait! There is still MARCH to live through! It's like a cruel joke, somewhat akin to our infernal Septembers.

7. My toenails have been painted, flip-flop ready, and are exactly the color you might expect when a four year old insists on choosing the new nail polish. Out of respect for my readers, I'll spare you a photo. Just picture ten little piggies chewing pink bubblegum.

8. The mourning doves have returned to serenade us through our still-cool mornings.

9. Warm-weather clothes emerge from their boxes, like old friends that have, after a few months' welcome absence, become new again.