A flight.

A familiar street ~~ college students brisk by, two fiftysomething women in bright bike gear wobble from seat to store, an occassional big-eyed toddler girl stretches up one arm to link to the above, a bright-eyed street scraggler glides away among the people who walk the sidewalks during our town's September Thursday night festivals.

I sit at a plastic table in front of a custard store. Behind me, the J-school takes notes. Behind it, my husband and son scamper around the columns, a requisite response to the cracked open campus which tonight permits an alum to introduce his son to collegiate pomposity, and the customary frivolity to test it.

In front of me move five stationed women. One glistens on the accordian; another perks up next to her bass; my friend shoulders her guitar; two dulcimer ladies wave their magic, wondrous wands. Their music reminds me of my days as a highland lass in Scotland, reminiscent of the old festivals where Robert Burns and I used to kick up our heels. Or not. But, I happily sit back as the music washes over me and is remindful. Returns me to a land. A field of Queen Anne's lace and daisies. And, I am young all over, and gleeful. I smell the place which reopens again with the melodies. I kick up my feet and giggle, and whirl.

I have secret hopes of being in the group, yet am just checking in on them. They know nothing about my playing or singing or Dad in the Ozarks who can burn "Earl's Breakdown" with me along with him.

The women are enjoying themselves. The bass player singer belts out her tunes without any effort. She grins as she directs her vocals to a passerby-er, "Hey good lookin' what you got cookin'?" I met her just a week ago at a local venue for a disco reunion concert with Sister Sledge and KC and the Sunshine Band; she and four of us forty-something women formed a Conga line and chugged around the sports arena, waving at the band on the stage who waved back, hipping along until we were out of the limelight, laughing crazily.

Now she is on stage here, streetside, grinning mischieviously at me and those playing around her. All of the women frolic on their chosen instruments. The accordian player occassionally grabs her guitar and mandolin and leads her girls into new sights and sounds. Her eyes are lit, alive; the wrinkles on her face upturn to the captured flight of the chords. All unknown concerns she carries melt away. The dulcimer women pounce prettily upon their strings, oblivious to anything but their precise mallet placement upon their most perfect pling. Pa-ling!

I keep staring, listening, returning. Keep sending my family away to wander. It's just I'm stricken with the desire to be like these musicians, aging into tune and memory and cadence and dance. As I clap, I send out a plea for invitation. If not with them, then with someone who knows the same field, the same calloused finger tips, the same practiced lightness of being.

The walk to the car is happy, despite the concerns I carry. Tomorrow, I will seek more of this music I know that I am a part of. A pling! A promise.

Which Major Romantic Poet Would You Be (if You Were a Major Romantic Poet)?

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You are Percy Bysshe Shelley! Famous for your dreamy abstraction and your quirky verse, you're the model "sensitive poet." A vegetarian socialist with great personal charm and a definite way with the love poem, you remain an idol for female readers. There are dozens of cute anecdotes about you, and I love you.
Take this quiz!http://quizilla.com/redirect.php?statsid=17&url=http://www.quizilla.com/users/maud/quizzes/Which+Major+Romantic+Poet+Would+You+Be+%28if+You+Were+a+Major+Romantic+Poet%29%3F">quiz!
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As I write, Cody creates a game map for Photodude-asis, the brave character who must do his duty within the dangerous terrain of a leaf. I mean carbon dioxide clusters galore. Sticky icky glucose needing distribution. Water and oxygen currents aswirl. Go Photodude!

Of course, the hero only came about out of intense need due to lack of brain regurgitation. Last week, we read about the photosynthesis process in the science text, we collected leaves to examine their structures, we reviewed our notes; however, twice when Cody took a little comprehension grasp quiz, he would not remember a single thing about photosynthesis!

I bought this terrific little book which I had stashed away and forgotten about from Prufrock Press called "Talent Scout: Units for Developing Multiple Talents" based on the Multiple Intelligences concept. In it, the educator provides various methods to arrive at understanding by using: kinisthetic; empathetic; personal connection; musical; and spatial approaches. I'm hooked! I think this will work with Cody. Now to go look through all my lessons to create some of these components...

Perhaps I can only do this because of being off sugar for three weeks and two days....? :) Just had to subtly brag there. And, of course, with an outright brag comes an issue of accountability for oneself in order to avoid being the prideful fool. Anyway, obviously, I'm still looking for reasons to not cave to my cravings! No one say the word "Butterfinger" to me, pa-leaze. :)

Take care!

Afternoons beg for ice cream. A quick hop in the car and I'm sidling up to the window where the cheery redclad teen hands me that whipped tousled pile of cream with glistening specks of Butterfinger, all for me to redspoon hunker into and perhaps finish before the two mile trip home. I'm totally tasting it now, imaginatively that is since ...

I'm deep into the second week of living sugar free. My symptoms were: depression, headaches, puffy eyes, mood swings, mental confusion (finally, something to blame this on!:). We have diabetes on both sides of my family which tells me that to live a more quality life, I must look honestly at my sugar intake.

handfuls of chocolate chips from the Sam's bigbag
brownies for my "kids"
kettle corn for supper
lemon ice in the afternoon

are several examples of my problem. Besides diabetes, I'm also worried about Alzheimers as new research is showing a connection between high sugar diet and increased possibility of this or dementia. In my 40's, I'm already showing signs of dementia! (Or, the "Big Change" perhaps)

Therefore, no sugar for me. No quick rushes to the head anymore. No crashes for the full blown out effect of over-the-top insulin production. I decided to just stop the cycle. During the first week, I felt the withdrawal symptoms, but this week, I have felt awesome. My moods are not sabatoging me. The healthy food I've been replacing the sugar with is doing its work too.

The tough part, though, is that apple pie season is just around the corner. Oh my. Sugary apple pies are the best. This blog has fully described that season a couple of times at least. And, guess what?.... A bag of apples from mom-in-law awaits in the basement....

I hate it when two good things must be weighed in each hand. Mental confusion returns even when sugar is thought about, which ought to give me a clear cut direction: bake the pie with Splenda instead. We'll see ....... !

We've been having still before storm. Next week, school breaks out into all of its chaos, and I will be required to be more than I'm capable of: organized, even-keeled, prepared, a rock of Gibraltar. I'm envisioning it now, and the vision strikes that pose and then ends up collapsing laughing, or crying, or jumping, or cowering, or sledding. Yes, sledding ~~ frankly, this is one of the reason I homeschool. The global warming slopes are quite transient, and one must get their kid on the .5 inch before the sun grabs it.

Actually, Cody will be going to middle school band and encore classes, which are revolving practical arts classes, each morning. We will be rearing each morning to stand in front of the mirror where he, suddenly, enjoys positioning himself. "I look like a monster," he said this morning. Argh ... the stage stage appears. Next week, we'll be combatting hair monsters and falling-down-stair fears and hall fights, which the middle school girl tells him are frequent. When he asked me how to avoid those, I told him just not to steal anyone's girlfriend. "Mom," he said, "Do you think I could steal anyone's girlfriend?" We both started laughing loudly. I was quite pleased at his self-deprecating humor in a healthy, funny way. His autism is mild. He's breaking through!

Our afternoons will be full (hopefully! discipline needed!) of classwork. These are things that can't happen this year in order to facilitate learning:

1) A cat is not necessary to reading. Many, many minutes of literature were avoided by finding one cat in the house to plunk down on the bed to "read with". If two cats were found, they would inevitably start fighting and screeching before the first paragraph was read.

2) A science project shouldn't be on the counter longer than a week. Forget those clay brick structures demonstrating Mesapotamia. They'll never be finished as they are not our habitats.

3) Drum practice will not be avoided due to any headaches.

4) Grapes and math do not go along well together.

5) Those Spanish c.ds can't be trusted.

6) Reading "A Story of the World" on the trampoline tests the appeal of the period studied and the elbows of the reader and the desire of the feet. Not a good idea.

Therefore, with these issues addressed, I'm envisioning a fully-formed and followed afternoon of academic success.

Aiiiii .......... we'll try .......

:)

The Life of Love

A couple of friends and I cried and laughed during our farewell lunch yesterday as we reminisced about how life and faith have intersected for us. It was a welcome girl's club with our tensions placed upon table, weight of family responsibilities abated for a while, an acceptance of each other's light and grace (qualities we primarily see in each other not ourselves). It's quite easy to love those who are like us.

Today, I looked up love, knowing I need more for those who grate against what I like: my neighbor who storms about her yard space and gossips and critiques and boasts; my daughter who again lashes out with surly moods; an old friend who speaks her mind on her defined righteousness and proclaims sin easily upon others; a personality that's brash .... "We love because he first loved us" says 1 John 4:19. How do we do it? How do we not become twisted up in futility with our own weaknesses in this area? Some people just really bother me at times!

And, thus past child of a more legalistic religion, I can become quite depressed at my lack to do what I'm supposed to do and be about. Paul knew about that. I always remember something Brennan Manning wrote in a book called "Abba's Child" where he says that the negative, dissenting, small-minded, sinful self in each of us needs to be accepted for what it is: a dissenter who struggles and doesn't get it right. He advises us to mercifully bring this part of ourselves into the light of God's care. We have a tendency to dichotomize and war within; but, God wants the unruly submitted to Him also so that we can "Cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in brotherly/sisterly love. Honor one another above yourselves." Romans 12:9-10

It's an act that takes full submission to fully submit. "You are all sons and daughters of God through faith in Christ Jesus," says Galations 3:26 To be able to step out of my own shame and guilt and enjoy being enveloped as a daughter, as I am, just as the people are who bother me, that would be freedom for sure. Fortunately, the following life of faith anticipates positive inner change. Grateful.

My daughter and I learned to knit last night, and it ain't the purl stitch, just the knit stitch so far which we dutifully plod, row by row. We're determined to be crafty, symbolic as we click our needles together, mother and daughter, and attempt to weave together something that lasts in the coming weeks. I've got the blue, she the green, and we compare our stitches and rows on our fledgling new venture. We know perseverance awaits us; we know each row represents another day together; And so we click. She's a sweet girl when she reminds me of our earlier dear times together when she was a girl and we frequently painted or baked or beaded. Dear Lord, I pray, "Let us knit in peace through the fall, and may there be submission to your process always and may you encourage love, embody love for us."

On another note, Cody was baptized this evening, plunged under the chlorinated water, after agreeing to Christ' spiritual leadership. He told me beforehand that he was half-minded about it, fearing the embarrassment with everyone staring at him, not fully knowing if he wanted Jesus to be his forever friend. Yet, he chose to agree, and submitted, and dipped, and rose in retrospect of the rising. Ah, embodiment of love towards us.

Finally, one of my best friends is moving to North Carolina this week. I am quite grateful for her wonderful grace in my life. Where others may discern and condemn, she always offers grace, encouragement , water for my soul during our weekly runs or frequent emails or various calls. She's fun too and giggly and tall and pretty and a musician on my ipod, and I've been blessed by her gifted presence as pal. I will miss her very much. Tomorrow is our last Monday run together, and then some of her other friends and I are taking her to lunch for a last farewell. Thank you, Lord, for friends who embody your love to help us know that we're worthy of it. Bless her new adventure.

God is good even during transitions. May we cling ever so tighter to his unending love.

Prayer for Children's Values
God help us to weave a tapestry of love and not hate in our children, a spirit of tolerance and caring, a dedication to freedom for all and not just some. God help us to sow seeds of peace and justice in our children's hearts today.
- Marian Wright Edelman

Pictures from Orlando! We visited Epcot, Universal Studios, MGM Studios and, mostly, of course, the hotel swimming pool. Cody is such a fun kid to be around. I was proud of how he handled his first airplane flight: by grabbing our hands and praying before we took off. I am surely blessed by him as my son (blessed with his dad too). This trip was a last minute occurrence due to a work conference. Orlando is a big plastic town; however, it was interesting to meet (and hear) all the people from different countries. In an hour long line at Universal, a little Quebec boy and I practiced our English/French skills on each other. Good times.

Today in church, our associate pastor talked about our responsibilities to take care of the Earth. It was a gentle sermon which was pretaught as being non-agenda driven, but biblically driven as it related to stewardship. I thought it was excellent, and the edginess I felt towards all things Christian administered (per the last emotional post:) was eased. I'm proud of my church for addressing issues like this and attempting to discuss them. He was good at being diplomatic (whereas I would have jumped right into the global warming issue with fire in my eyes) and set out a basic message without offense, without politicizing it (which it doesn't have to be).

Yeah!

Irregulars are disposed of in Flatland. They present a problem to the harmony and safety of the other inhabitants. The Circles, who are the priests, uphold the standards and discourage rebellions by decreeing the disposal. History reveals that leniency and mercy are detrimental to the higher natural order of things. Therefore, Irregulars, those with lines that aren't of equal measurement on either side, are seen as threatening and are thus disposed of for the good of the whole.

As I'm researching Christian private schools in Little Rock for Cody next year when we move, I'm reminded of the Irregulars, which come to life in Edward Abbot's classic satire "Flatland." As I read the schools' policy booklets, I feared that my son, with his high functioning autism and academic and social challenges, will be disposed of by these fine people of high Christ-imbued standards (which are really Greek ideal standards of human achievement and excellence). The more I read, the more my fear began to pivot wildly on the emotional hinges of desperation then anger then depression. I wrote a satire called "Jesus Opens a Christian School in Little Rock". I went on a walk/run with a friend. I prayed frantically. I went to bed early.

And, now .... ? I still want to push the envelope a bit and ask these schools what does it mean "displacement" will occur if their standards aren't met. How much leniency will they show? Will they be agents of mercy and grace to a sweet kid who wants to fit in badly but at times doesn't know how? When will the spelled-out "coroporal punishment" clause be fulfilled? How will they manage to accomodate all God's children, not just the promising ones with a sterling academic and behavioral record? There are mixed messages ... one of learning assistance to those who might need it (at a couple of schools); two of punishment for not being able to fit in. I can already see the wariness in their eyes as I explain Cody's irregularity. They don't know him to love him; they can't see his earnestness; they see that his sides don't match. He doesn't exemplify their version of Christ. I've scouted out these people before and have felt their rejection (of course, few don't represent all, I hope).

I checked out the public school site and their messages were more positive. Come one, come all, and be an Eagle, and see your counselor, and we're mandated to help all [God's]children and so we'll care, or at least attempt to care for our job's sake. There are risks there too as well.

We'll see. I place all of these decisions upon the wings of God. I'll go gather the information I need, and He will help me with trust, hope, and certainty.

The whole Israel and Lebanon conflict has me in tears many times during the day. I despise war and desire that there are never ever innocent victims whose homes or families become blown down and all around because of persistent hatred between groups of people who make their dissensions known. Even though the news is depressing, I can't be unaware and plug my ears. For some reason, this one is hitting me emotionally harder than some. The weariness of the world at odds is quite real.

"Then the kingdom of heaven shall be compared to ten maidens who took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish, and five were wise. For when the foolish took their lamps, they took no oil with them; but the wise took flasks of oil with their lamps. As the bridegroom was delayed, they all slumbered and slept. But at midnight there was a cry, 'Behold, the bridegroom! Come out to meet him.' Then all those maidens rose and trimmed their lamps. And the foolish said to the wise, 'Give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out.' But the wise replied, 'Perhaps there will not be enough for us and for you; go rather to the dealers and buy for yourselves.' And while they went to buy, the bridegroom came, and those who were ready went in with him to the marriage feast; and the door was shut. Afterward the other maidens came also, saying, 'Lord, lord, open to us.' But he replied, 'Truly, I say to you, I do not know you.' Watch therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour."

This is one of my favorite parables in the New Testament. It teaches me that taking care of oneself, as it relates to devotion, is more important than helping others who have chosen wrongly. I've always been taught, through church and family, to put others first which is an excellent value. However, there comes a point when giving away something precious (oil, pearls, devotion to the good) (or conforming to carelessness) can leave you out with the foolish, separated from the purest love, choosing second best. Discernment in this area has always been difficult for me given the conditioning (along with my personality) (along with a gift of 'mercy') so I was happy when I discovered this parable. It has broad application for me but devotionally today reminds me to: prepare, choose wisely, preserve the good, and enjoy the wedding feast.

In cleaning closets today, I found the beautiful illustrated family Bible of a doctor who lived in my hometown. My uncle gave it to me ~~ having been published in 1881, it contains amazing illustrations. What's even more fun is that within the pages are pressed old roses, carnations, a homemade Valentine, a tin photograph of Dr. Hubbard himself, a Scottish song, and some locks of hair. What a bizarre feeling to hold them now in their far future, entrusted with their proof of intense meaning within past life. I feel quite special, yet quite fleeting myself, part of the flow who keeps emblems of love to be found far in the future perhaps. Sometimes the transitoriness of this life makes me feel internally thin from the rushing of the motion of people who walk across this earth and then are gone, who make me feel part of their throng even now while alive. I've gotten lost in this feeling before (which perhaps is what made me an English major to begin with:). There are stories rushing forth constantly, isn't there?, both from the alive and dead (through their records if not anything else).

Anyway, along with 2500 illustrations, the Bible includes the Apocrypha (which interestingly enough was included in all King James versions from 1611 until 1880 when the American Bible Society voted to leave it out -- we often think of it as antitraditional, when in fact it was a traditional inclusion of the KJV), Old and New Testaments, Dr. William Smith's Bible Dictionary, a History of Denominations and other interesting commentary.

I've taken it out of the closet and think I will smell and meander in it for a while, fortunate for the spell of time.

For some reason, I've been absorbed by John Wesley today (in between the usual house and family life). I'm impressed by 1) his abhorence of slavery; 2) his ideas on Christian 'perfection'; 3) his acceptance of women as spiritual leaders; 4) his belief in free-will instead of predestination (as in Calvinism). I took an excellent college class from a professor who wrote her Harvard dissertation on the holiness/evangelical movements/revivals that swept across America in the 19th and 20th centuries ~~ some of this is coming back ~~ which has its roots in Methodism that Wesley founded. Here's a link in case you're interested in his take on things: http://gbgm-umc.org/umw/wesley/

Anyway, it has been a lovely day of being heady regarding spiritual matters of the heart. On Tuesday, we fly off to sunny Orlando where I'll be tailing Goofy instead.

:)

The true, living faith, which the Holy Spirit instills into the heart, simply cannot be idle.
Martin Luther

The parent support group was wonderful tonight. There were probably about 50 parents there altogether, and we broke up into three groups. I went into a newcomer group and listened to the personal "stories" of two parents who have experienced heartbreak with their children and growth through the Crossroads program. Crossroads is a program designed for kids who get wrapped up in chemical dependency and for parents to support one another. They both meet (separately) in the same church. My daughter is in the gray area; her behaviors point to a problem, yet she hasn't hit rock bottom to admit that her incessant desire to party may be an issue in her life. When she didn't go to school much last semester, it was an issue. When the estrangement happens with family, it's an issue. There are others which I won't name here. Anyway, I'm thankful to have met up with hope tonight in the form of people offering their hearts to one another and to me. I have one plan in place to work on for the week, which is more than I had before. Thank you, Crossroads. What a cool supportive, essential group of people!

With my talkative boy at his grandmother's this week, I can focus more on contemplative matters, which I really enjoy. Here's an excellent,helpful quote on prayer instruction from a book I'm reading:

If you want to gather all your desire into one simple word that the mind can retain, choose a short word rather than a long one. A one-syllable word such as 'God' or 'love' is best. But choose one that is meaningful for you. Then fix it in your mind so it will remain there come what may. The word will be your defense in conflict and in peace. Use it to beat upon the cloud of darkness above you and subdue all distractions consigning them to the cloud of forgetting beneath you. Should some thought go on annoying you, demanding to know what you are doing, answer with this word alone." William Johnston

The big question once more

My friend gave me some good advice many years ago which I still remember: "Don't make decisions during your weak times." I'm remembering that today (frankly, this month) as I stomp around cleaning, running (stomp-jogging:), contemplating, fretting. The whole issue of "Should I homeschool this year or not?" has crossed and recrossed and zizgazzed all over the vast spaces of my mind. I was relieved to see the same topic broached on a Homeschool online newsletter that I receive. Thank God, the homeschool community at large encounters The Decision as a common, real issue. At times, it's easy to believe that all homeschoolers are much better, and much more committed, and much more superior in so many ways than I am. They know the stakes; they clothe themselves with commitment; they are always prepared and happy. Always.

As some of you know, I began homeschooling Cody due to problems at public school. His Asperger Syndrome (high functioning autism) and adhd issues were quite disruptive. I consoled him daily after school for hours; I met with teachers and principals frequently; we tried medicine against my better judgment. He was physically sick; the learning specialist thought he needed to go see a counselor; Cody frequently wrote things on paper like "I hate myself; I am stupid and ugly." As a mother, I felt wrung out constantly trying to figure ways out to help him, being an advocate. Finally, after going to one more IEP (individualized education plan) meeting and hearing what was wrong with my son, I felt like it was time to focus on what is right about him. Lots of things. I pulled him out, and he became healthier, happier, and more mentally confident.

Wow, it's done me some good to even write that to recall the problems we had and why would I want to risk that again? Not to mention some other benefits of homeschooling we've had: the ability to travel when we want; the slowness of the morning and the stress-free evenings, which would normally be filled with homework; the sharing of learning; the jumping on the trampoline breaks; more frequent visits with grandparents, etc.

It's just sometimes I long for "normalcy" with him. Normal school, normal adaptations, normal mother and father attendance of normal events (like sports for instance). I would like to work and could've stayed in a public school teaching role without these concerns. To be honest, I still would like to work as crazy as that sounds. My whole view of Normal has got to be adjusted I've been realizing lately. With my daughter's unforeseen issues too, The Normal Child/Life might be a slippery eel that may not even exist.

Homeschooling. I shouldn't make the decision now. I should just remember why we're doing it and let it seep in and speak to me with reassurance. I know that Cody is not ready for public school again. I'm just a bit tired from constantly encouraging him, worrying for him, feeling generally inadequate, but at least I have the time and energy to do what I think is best to help him as a homeschool mother. For that, I'm grateful. Lord, help me to know and yield to your better purposes. Amen.

We walk in hope of light but often we find ourselves in darkness. We at times walk in gardens, in our own backyard, happily with our smiling children, laughingly at a water park, peacefully on our couch with a good book. And, then other times, we have the metaphorical desert times, which often are not spoken of except furtively across the table to a friend at a coffee shop. Or, sulkingly to a husband who nods and listens, not knowing how to fix it. Or, perhaps we speak of it only to the pages of our journal, which only boomerang our own misery back to us (although therapeutic). I will try something new on Tuesday night, though, which is called a support group. One for parents of wayward teenagers. There, I will find other parents who are looking for oasis and for honesty from other parents who struggle. I can't relate to the parents who only speak of their good efforts with good rewards forthcoming. I'm tired of the braggy Christmas letters. The glossy images which hide. I confess to being in the desert, despite my good intentions and efforts which I painstakingly enumerate. I confess that the world is stronger than me (yet not stronger than He that is in me) and has captured one who is dear to me. I confess that I need to release anger and jealousy and sharp-tongued responses to provocation and to judgment that severs. I confess I need reliance as in:

He who walks in darkness, to whom no light appears, let him trust in the Name of Yahweh, let him rely upon his God. Isaiah 50:10