This is a week in which we have been unable to start school before 10am.
Which is fine, except that then we do school past lunch time.
Which is fine, except that then I spend most of my day schooling.
Which is fine, except that when I do that, I don't have enough time to get things done.
Which is fine, except that the people in my house expect and need to have things done.
Which is fine, except that they don't always want to help to get those things done.
Which is fine, except that I need help to do for the people that created the work that I need to get done in the first place.
Which is fine, except the reason I can't get done what I need to get done for the people who created the work for me to do in the first place is that that people that I'm schooling are the one preventing me from getting done what I need to get done.
It's no coincidence that as I read Amy Carmichael quoting an old Indian proverb yesterday, "Children tie the mother's feet" (and hands too?) my heart sang in agreement.
But then Amy was powerfully struck by the image of Christ wrapping himself in a towel and stooping to wash the disciples' feet. The Savior did not view humble service as small or unimportant. So Amy Carmichael willingly let her 'feet be tied' for the love of Him whose feet were pierced.
from "Trial and Triumph: Stories from Church History
So I will humbly spend the day schooling the children that God has entrusted to me. With a thankful and a grateful heart. With a spirit of Eucharisteo, which I am learning to live contentedly in the spirit of. And I'm thankful for this sweet reminder...
Our most recent field trip took us to an animal preserve. I was excited since several of our friends had gone and said such wonderful things about it. This place is a sanctuary for wild life that was rescued from dangerous and harmful situations. Each animal had a story-some were rescued from people who foolishly tried to keep these animals as pets, some rescued from closets where they were left to starve to death, some rescued from the back of semi-trucks where they lived, some rescued from the circus, some just dropped off by former owners.
I can't stop singing this song...
"Like a Lion"
It was easy to feel sorry for these animals, but they cannot easily or possibly be reintroduced to the wild since they were born into captivity. Some were born at this preserve since the owners would state that the animals had been spade or neutered and they actually hadn't been. They are well cared for and fed and loved, as much as you can love a still wild beast. These animals can't be fully domesticated, which the former owners found out, mostly too late, but they did show affection for these people that care for them and obeyed them too. That was reassuring. Slightly...
They day before we went on this field trip, we were reading in this book, which I love, by the way:
We were reading about David Livingstone. As a missionary to Africa, he had a harrowing experience where he was attacked by a lion, and the Lord spared his life, thankfully. But how amazing that we read this story just before we went to stare a lion in the face? I love how God schools us all!
One of the guides walked along behind our group. She and I chatted a good bit, and I was able to ask her questions about the sanctuary, and especially about the animals. I asked her if they ever fought, especially since some weren't in cages by themselves. She said they did, but they were able to yell at them, bang a stick on the fence, spray them with water, or at a last resort, spray a fire extinguisher near them, not on them, which scares them badly. I was glad they had ways of stopping them if they started fighting.
I was absolutely amazed to be this close to these animals. I was mesmerized by them. Just to be this close to them was almost overwhelming. I was struck by God and this majestic creation. To be so close that you could see the individual hairs on their heads, hear them breathing, see the absolutely mammoth size of their paws. I could have stood there all day, just looking... and worshiping God, their Creator.
I was crouched down on the ground, taking pictures of the animals. I was so close to them. I was totally absorbed in watching them and studying them feeling so awed by them.
Suddenly these two tigers started fighting, growling, snapping, rolling against the fence fur flying.
I jumped back, feeling the power of their growls and the strength of their bodies slamming into the fence. The guide that I had been talking to yelled and they reluctantly separated, growling at each other as the parted.
My heart pounded in my chest as I struggled to control my breaths. I cannot describe what it was like to be close close to them as they fought. It was indescribable.
I felt a little uneasy as we walked on to the next animal.
If it weren't for those fences, we would be lunch.
Exactly how strong are chain link fences? Super strong, I hoped, seeing how much faith we were putting into them to protect us.
When this not yet fully grown bear stood on his hind legs, he towered nearly 7 feet tall. He'll be almost 9 feet tall when he finished growing.
No camping in the mountains for me any time soon, I'm thinking.
The lion was my favorite. He was so beautiful. And so seemingly docile. He wasn't too interested in us, and pretty much ignored us the whole time. It felt a little hard to reconcile the lion that attacked David Livingstone with this same beast.
His roar can be hear for four miles, if I recall correctly the information the guide gave.
I really wanted to hear that roar.
The verse
The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the young goat, and the calf and the lion and the fattened calf together; and a little child shall lead them..
kept ringing in my head.
It almost seemed like a malformation to see him so peaceful and still.
What about the lions that waited to devour Daniel, but the angel kept their mouths closed? And then, when the men who had accused Daniel were cast into the den, along with their children and wives, the Bible says that "...they had not reached the bottom of the den before the lions overpowered them and crushed all their bones."
I could see that. His paws were enormous. You could hear his weight when he slumped against the fence. Even his head was just huge.
His beauty was incredible. I could have studied him all day.
Gosh, I love that kid. And his hair kills me.
The next animals were cougars. They were almost mocking in the way they looked at us from their houses. The guide called to them, and they literally looked away. I thought, "Wow. They really could not care less about us."
Well, that wasn't exactly true.
As soon as we all walked to the next exhibit, they came out of their houses alright.
The guide next to me looked at me and smiled.
I gulped and asked, "Um, they are stalking the babies, aren't they?"
She nodded "yes."
To say it made me uncomfortable is an understatement.
I wasn't used to being the prey, and not the predator. Not that I am usually the predator, but I do eat animals, so I guess in a way that makes me the predator. But these animals were the predators, and they knew it. Had those fences not been there, we would have been the prey.
It wasn't that I didn't feel safe. I did. But to see humans as the prey was unsettling to me. It was surreal to think that unless we had weapons, we wouldn't have stood a chance against these animals.
And they were stalking the babies. The little kids. The especially defenseless ones.
Not that I would have had any luck against them. Or even the man that was with us. They would have ripped us limb from limb.
Can you tell by this how the baby walked from my right to behind me?
It's chilling.
Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.
This guy was beautiful also. Want to know what he was looking so intently at?
Yep. He even crouched down at one point, ready to pounce. Thankful for the fences, again.
This creature was stunning.
He also reached out to our guide and missed her by inches. She scolded him and told us that he could have pulled her into the fence. Their strength is mind boggling.
He seems rather disappointed that he didn't get a paw in her.
He didn't feel badly enough to keep from stalking the little kids. Again with the stalking.
I happened to glance up and notice that across a patch of land we were being studied by a rather large wolf. He looked as though he also might like to have us for lunch.
I was getting a little tired of feeling like someone's dinner.
This just made me happy. I love that kid.
This is proof I was there - me and the middle kid.
I really love this kid.
Did I already say that?
I love all of them, actually.
This made me enormously happy. I am going to try to find a way to incorporate it into my blog somehow.
We got home late, and I collapsed on the couch. Zane pulled out his "How to Draw" book and proceeded to draw a lion. We all loved the day. I am still thinking about those animals! I hope to go back again...
It was a bright, beautiful Sunday. I had gone straight from church to a baby shower and was finally home. My heart was full, and my head was spinning.
I shoved on my running shoes and bolted out of the door. My daughter followed me out the door, struggling to keep up with me, on the way to play in a neighbor's yard.
There were things swirling in my that could only be processed with some serious pavement pounding and deep communion with God.
The day swirled over me - hurtful words, unintended and intended - longing - pain - fatigue - despair.
I had spent the day in that place where all strength seeps out of the bottom of me, twirling like the water leaving the bathtub, taking hope with it too.
Even the smallest thing - teasing at the baby shower - "Amy, don't you want more children? Just one more baby?" and my daughter's words bursting forth, "Yes! We do!" and my uncomfortable shift in my chair under the surprised stream of my in-laws' gaze.
"Oh, well, we... I mean, I... oh she just would love a sister but we..."
Thankfully the conversation had moved on.
Just one thing would be easy to handle.
Pile upon pile, thing upon thing had sent me scrambling for the pavement. For the place where I can find Him most easily. Under the sun, under the clouds, breathing the air, feeling the hardness of the earth and the brush of the breeze.
The place where I can breathe.
I rounded the corner, feeling the sounds of childrens' laughter and the nearby train. Seeing the sun. Watching the pavement slide under my feet.
I heard my name above it all.
My sweet friend waved me over, her smile warm and kind.
We stood in her drive way, chatting. I was hyper aware of everything around me. This, my usual response to being over stimulated and over stressed. Focusing on her words and at the same time, noticing how the hem of her tank top had unraveled, the string was swinging in the breeze. Hearing the kids spinning around us on bikes and scooters. It felt like that globe of death from the circus. One swerve and she and I would topple, victims of a drive by scooter accident.
I focused on her words, feeling thankful for something to focus on outside of myself.
She was describing her son's arm. It had been hurting. The one he had broken earlier. She was afraid it was broken again.
"It can't break in the same place, once it's been broken," she continued, touching absentmindedly her arm in the place where her son had broken his. "The doctor said that once a bone breaks, it heals stronger than before, almost like extra bone forms around the break. It can't ever break again..."
She continued on, but my world slowed. My eyes drifted to the side of the house where the shade of the leaves were dancing in light of the sun. The kids' voices faded and I focused back on her.
"What did you say?"
She paused, and said, "It can't be broken again. You know once it heals. I mean it can in another part bone..."
She continued, but I was lost again.
It can't be broken again.
She noticed that I was thinking, lost from the moment.
I couldn't help it.
"There have to be spiritual implications there, right? I mean, is that the same with God and us?"
Bless her.
She doesn't know me that well. She's not familiar with me and my quick right hand turns. My tendency to spiritualize everything. To overthink at a moment's notice.
She grinned, and I honestly don't remember what her response was. But I felt her kindness with each of my overstimulated senses. It was both cool and refreshing and warm and comforting all at the same time.
"I have to go. I am so sorry..."
I turned and fled the comfort of her driveway, her kindness more than I could bear.
"Get a grip," I chided myself.
I took a deep breath and said to God with a quavering voice, "So once you get through breaking me, I won't break again? Do You promise?"
I spent time in arcades when I was a kid. I was an only child, and it was one place my step dad could take me where we would both have something to do. I loved watching him play "Punch Out." The announcer would yell "Body Blow!" over and over again.
That phrase came to me then, again and again. It made me smile, in spite of the truth of it. I could still see the computer animated boxer hiding behind his gloves, dancing, waiting on the next blow.
And hear the announcer yelling, "Body blow! Body blow!"
As I replayed the day, I heard him yelling it again, with each occurrence "Body blow!"
And me finally yelling, "Enough!"
How silly.
But.
Once You've broken me here, I won't break again.
Right?
Than is it worth it?
To be broken this way?
If the guarantee is that I won't break again?
"The bone can break in other places..."
Am I that fragile? That I can break in other places? Not strong? Not rooted in Him and His Word?
James says that I must "...let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing."
I'm sure that "steadfastness" can't be broken.
Or can it?
I felt much like the next passage:
"...for the one that doubts is like a wave of the sea that is driven and tossed by the wind. For that person must not suppose that the will receive anything from the Lord; he is a double-minded man, unstable in all his ways."
Tossed by the wind and waves.
I hate that.
I pounded the pavement and poured it all out before Him.
"Fine. I need you. I'm fully dependent on you. I know I can't do this. I know it. I can't. I can't..."
And Paul.
I've been studying him.
His words floated to me on the breeze and settled firmly on me and haven't moved since:
"But He said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.'"
This isn't going to be one of those, "Oh, here are my thoughts, and now that I've typed all of that out, I'm done! I've figured it all out!"
Nope.
This is one of those "beauty" categories, where I ponder and process until either I get sick of it and live with what I processed some here and some in my brain or I just say, "Forget the whole thing."
Okay, fine. I never say that last thing. I wish I knew how to. Unfortunately, I plow through something until I have some sort of hold on it.
And trust me, sometimes, or a lot of times, I wish that weren't true.
But this whole parenting thing is different.
I'm not wrestling with a subject like the origin of sin/evil because it's something I need to know, this parenting thing is crucial because of the well-being of my children.
And yes, being in the Word is square one. I realize that, and I continue to learn how to do that more and better in part to become a better parent.
And.
I know that the Lord has provided additional resources to aid in my on-going education of how to be a good parent.
As I grow in the Word, I'll be a better parent.
And I'm thankful for things He brings to be that help me learn in addition to His Word.
Here are two of them.
I'm putting them here for me, mostly, to be able to come back to. (I'm not a fan of that Pininterest thing. Yet. Or maybe ever. I'm happy emailing things to myself and plopping them into folders to locate later. Or never.)
And I hope to continue to process these things, either here or just in my brain. Or with you...
The train that wailed by our house day and night was conspicuously missing, its silence more of a bother than the noise it would typically bring. No planes flew over the neighborhood from the neighboring airport. All planes sat quiet, their engines cold and still. There was no traffic on the street outside the house. No cars on the busy road that framed our neighborhood.
Only quiet and stillness.
I rolled to my side, bringing my knees up as far as I could. I wrapped an arm tightly around my bulging belly, the baby kicking back in protest. As she rolled and kicked, I felt the nausea roll through me again. This time, though, it wasn't her flattening my stomach that made me feel queasy.
I thought back to the night before. To that morning. All was routine, normal, quiet. I had woken early, gotten ready for work, eating at the table watching the Today Show start. I remember Michael Jackson flying through the air toward a goal with a basketball in hand; a preview to what segments they would cover that day.
I headed out into the day, thoughts fixed on what needed to be done at work. Traffic. The baby that continued to kick until I felt that the inside of me must be black and blue.
Eight months pregnant. Nearing the start of my maternity leave. Constant lists running in my head.
Listening to NPR, the announcer casually mentioned that a small plane had flown into one of the World Trade Buildings.
I had long been fascinated with those buildings. I'd watch a particular documentary on the History Channel about them each time it came on. I knew they were built with this scenario in mind, able to withstand the impact of a small plane. I hoped in passing that all was well as I got to work and attacked the mound of work that awaited me.
My friend called, breathless and crying. I could barely understand her but she choked out a description what she was seeing on the television.
"Suzee, no. It was just a small plane. It's no big deal. You're wrong..."
My stomach started to roll and cold fear flowed down my body. I looked at the only other person at work with me so far, and her eyes were wide with fear. Almost immediately the phone lit up. We flew into action, frantically taking calls, making lists and trying to figure out what was going on outside of our four walls.
Corporate called.
"Go home," they said. "Go be with your families."
We finished up with what we had to do, and walked dazed to our cars. Once inside, each radio station was in a panic, voices filled with fear with each flip of the station dial.
I turned off the radio and pointed the car toward home. I was having trouble breathing.
What kind of world was I bringing a child into?
A scant nine months ago, I didn't even want kids, filled with fear that I didn't know how to be a good mother, and sure that the world would be just fine without any offspring of mine.
I didn't decide to get pregnant. It just happened. And now, this?
"Another reason I didn't want to have children..." I muttered aloud. "I didn't want to bring them into a world like this. A world where things like this could happen."
I got home, and sat, waiting on my husband to get home from work. Each television station was playing nonstop news coverage. The eyes of the reporters were wide and scared. Their voices shook, along with some of their hands. I felt my panic soaring higher and higher.
My phone rang. It was my granddad. Had I heard from my cousin? She lived in New York.
"No," I answered.
He sighed deeply. "How's Squirt?" His nickname for the baby.
I started to cry. He knew.
"It's okay," he said. "Call me if you hear from her, and I'll call you when we hear something."
I didn't want to talk to my grandmother. I didn't want to upset her with my tears. I knew she was already worried and upset.
I curled up on the sofa and found the only channel showing normal programing. The Cartoon Network. Each time I closed my eyes, I saw the plane crashing into the building.
My husband got home, and I followed him around the house. I was terrified of being alone. I don't remember much else about that day, but when I wearily climbed the stairs to bed, I asked him to come too. Since he is a night owl, we never go to bed at the time time. This night though, I didn't want to be alone. He flipped on the television and I lay beside him, curled into a ball, forcing myself to breathe in and out the light of the television.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
The silence only amplified the panic and fear that I felt. We weren't safe. Nothing was safe. I felt raw, exposed and vulnerable.
I was a believer then, but not walking with Christ. I don't remember finding my Bible. I don't remember wanting to go to church. I don't remember finding solace in Him.
I mourn a lot about that day. I mourn the lives that were lost. I mourn the innocence that we as a nation lost. I think about the families still. I think about the police men and fire fighters and the first responders. I think about the people on the planes, in the Pentagon. I think about the people that jumped from the buildings. I think about those faces on the posters that papered the city. I think about the people who were so radical about their faith that they gave their lives without a single thought of sparing it.
I mourn so much about that day.
I mourn that I was so far from Christ. I mourn that as I watched the buildings fall over and over again that I didn't cry out to him to forgive me of my sins and wash me clean. I'm sad that staring such evil in the face didn't bring me to my knees. I'm mourn the ten years prior to that day and the time even after where I lived in flagrant rebellion of a Holy God. I mourn that disaster of epic proportions didn't send me running back to the God of the universe, begging Him to receive and restore me.
That wouldn't come until later, in the wake of a much small disaster that impacted only me and a handful of others close to me.
There is a lot to mourn today, ten years later. I today mourn the evil that was caused when we first sinned against God and introduced the sin that would eventually lead to that fateful day. I mourn the years that I lost that should have been spent in devotion to Him. I think about the families who live each day with their losses as we as individuals and as a nation moved on. And because it's what I do, I feel guilty that I could turn off the television and move on with my life. Go on to have that baby girl. And more. Live in a lot of ways as though it never happened.
I think a lot more about sin these days, and the people who don't know Him. Or are willing to attack in the name of a god who would sanction such action. I stay thankful that He snatched me from my blatantly sinful life and graced me with a passion for Him. I don't look at the images from ten years ago and feel anger or despair. I see sin. The same sin I engaged in for so long. My sin didn't kill nearly 3,000 people, but it was just as destructive, even if there was little evidence of it.
I'm not equating my life with the horrific destruction so many endured that day and still to this day endure. Those first responders are dealing with not only the emotional and physical scars, they now have debilitating health issues. Those that haven't died already. The families still don't have their loved ones. Or closure. The live in the midst of a world that moved on, for the most part, except for one day a year where we remember.
So I want to do more. I want to continue to remember. I want to continue to pray. I want to see that image of the buildings falling as the visual of what sin. looks. like. When I dabble in it. Dance close to it. Taunt it with my actions. With my rebellion.
I want to remember the pain and destruction not only to pray for those still living in the wake of that day without the comfort of ten years removed, but also to stay aware of and mindful to the true nature of sin and it's ability to destroy.
And not to make this all about me, but I'm thankful for this place where I can nail a reminder to myself. Sin and evil destroy. And they caused Jesus to offer Himself as a sacrifice to provide us a way to escape their eternal damnation. And one day, He'll come back in part to end sin and evil forever. I am thankful for that day too.
These are ways that I remember this holiday each year. I watch the first two links below:
We've been studying Helen Keller, and I realized that visiting her birthplace was a doable field trip. It was a beautiful drive - so much so that I wish we had taken the trip in the fall when the leaves were changing. That would have been really beautiful.
It was a great trip to take though, although the tour didn't take very long. I could have stayed for much longer than we did, but the boys weren't quite as interested as Laney and I were.
I'm glad we went, though. It was a great field trip to take.
I love these lace curtains. It's probably weird that I took this picture because them!
The dining room where Helen went around the table, eating off of her family's plates. I pictured it being so much bigger than it is.
There was tons of memorabilia to look at.
This may have been my favorite part of the house. Seeing this written in her hand was so precious to me.
The pump...
The famous water pump where Helen first realized what Annie was trying to teach her.
Looking out the back of the house to the kitchen. It was apart from the house to prevent fires accidental from burning down the house and to keep the heat from cooking away from the house in the warmer months.
I cannot fathom sleeping by the kitchen in the heat. I realized how spoiled rotten I am...
The fireplace, since I guess it would be bitterly cold to sleep out here in the winter. I am spoiled in this area too...
It was a hot day, and I was already sweating. Imagine cooking in this kitchen with that hot, heavy cast iron cookware over an open flame. Oh my stars. Thinking about it made me sweat even more.
The little house where Annie and Helen lived while Annie worked intensely with her.
This is one of version of my dream house. Old. Lots of property. Preferably with a kitchen in the house, but I love old houses.
This guy is studying the Wright Brothers, and one of his books taught him how to make paper airplanes and gliders. He is making paper airplanes out of everything. And I do mean everything... (that's his informational guide for the property)
He wanted me to take a picture of his airplane in flight, and there it is. Up at the top and a little to the right...
