Love. It.

And the answer?

Um. Yes. Very much so, Sir.


:P


h/t: here, via Drudge.

It's To Be Expected...

... that my 5 home schooled children would be eager to finish their tiresome day of schooling on a Friday afternoon...

To rush through their subjects, scattering papers willy-nilly throughout the house, scampering off to gather their playthings...

To pull on their shoes and gather up their coats...

To grab books and pencils and backpacks...

To climb into the van parked at the end of the driveway...

In order to play...

SCHOOL.

And the van?

Is a BUS, MOM.


:P

New Beginnings

First, the awesome news...

My dear friend Lisa has just given birth to a little girl ~Brigid Clare~ her 8th child! I have written many times about my amazing friend. She is such an example for me. Her family has welcomed us as surrogate members... (her parents are so loving and hospitable!). While Lisa has been instrumental in helping me deal with my own infertility by placing her babies in my arms when I walk through her door and sharing the cute anecdotes of my little goddaughter.

I am so blessed to have this beautiful family in my life.


Now, an explanation of Monday's post.
:P

After receiving a phone call from a friend, panicked that we were moving or something horrible had happened, I realized that I needed to explain my enigmatic ponderings. However, due to privacy issues, I could not do so until today.

The jist of it all is that we have decided to pull Little Boo and Little Love out of their Montessori school and do their schooling at home. I suppose that seems like no big deal to most people, but it is kind of a big deal in our case.

Their Montessori teacher has been a part of our lives for a long time. We met her and her husband before they were married, and when she started her own school, we signed the girls up. Little Boo has been a part of their family, going to be tutored and playing with their young son all through the summer months. She and her teacher have a special bond, one that has been beneficial to my fiesty girl, since it has taught her a gentleness and compassion that is difficult to impart when dealing with rough and tumble older brothers. I am hopeful that we can continue to foster that unique relationship somehow.

Both girls are eager to come home. We are happy to have them. They have received an awesome foundation, one that is sooo helpful when it comes to home schooling little ones. Concentration, respect for others' work, diligence, and joy in learning... these are awesome stepping stones for a life of learning. I am so grateful that all of my children were able to have this experience. I am so blessed that it was in an atmosphere of Faith and Love.

Now we begin a new chapter. I am back to full time home schooling. I am excited and eager to begin. But there is still a lot of planning and prep work to do.

I'm not even going to think about next year. Nope. That's a whole other ball of wax and I won't go down that road of dizzy discussion just yet. I'm just focusing on the here and now.

And right now I have two more little minds to fill with beautiful things and challenge with truth and water with joy.

:)

Daybook: Monday Evening

Outside my window...

Dusk. Bitterly cold for us Southerners. I know I shouldn't complain, but cold weather makes me feel scrunched up somehow. Like an Ebenezer Scrooge huddled in my sweaters.



I am listening to...

My two littlest play in the homeschool room. The older three are scratching out a composition for their "teacher." Lots to say about this situation, but not a lot of extra charity in which to give it a fair shot right now. Suffice it to say, we have a lot of decisions to make for next year.



I am wearing...

Levi's, crocs and a warm fuzzy sweater. The sweater I picked up for $1 at the thrift store last fall. It's funky-patterned, hooded, and sits right at my waist. I love that the sleeves reach past my wrists... something that rarely happens when you are blessed with ape-like long limbs.



I am thankful for...

Wonderful friends. I think I've used up all of my shoulder-crying allotment these past weekend!



I am pondering...

The education of little ones.



I am reading...

Edge of Sadness and In Conversation with God.



From the kitchen...

Oven fried chicken, dill potatoes and broccoli.



I am thinking...

That in order to survive the next 4 months, my daily schedule will have to be pretty darn near perfect. No burn out or sickness allowed. And then God chuckled... :P I guess the best I can hope for is that we grow in virtue as we stumble along this homeschooling path together.



I am creating...

A 4 month scope and sequence.



On my iPod...

What iPod? The kids have absconded it, and I never listen to it anymore... :P



Towards a real education...

ARGH! Sorry... but it's all we've been talking about, and I'm worn out.



Towards rhythm and beauty...

I'll be re-vamping the homeschool room. More on that later...



To live the liturgy...

Readings from In Conversation with God have translated into timely lessons for the older ones. I'm trying not to be too preachy. We all have things to work on, and being with my children all day affords me the privilege of realizing just how broken I am, and how much grace I need to bring these souls back to Him. It's humbling.



I am hoping and praying...

That we've made the right decision, and that everyone involved will be at peace with it.



In the garden...

I had been thinking of bulbs, but that order is on hold for now. Maybe I'll have time to research it more this weekend.



Around the house...

We are hunkering down and attempting to focus. It will be an adjustment. But hopefully everyone (including your truly!) will rise to the occasion and shine. Lots of re-organizing and tweaking of schedules. I hope my brain doesn't explode.
:)



On keeping home...

Priorities! Sometimes we have to say "good enough" and go do Math. That's what we homeschooling moms do.



One of my favorite things...

Writing lists. Sometimes I feel like it's half the battle just to get it down on paper.



A few plans for the rest of the week...

A LOST premier party at a friend's home tomorrow! (anyone else as addicted to that crazy show as I am??) Scouts, sports, gym classes and mass. This is just a foretaste of what's to come when spring sports season hits!



A picture thought I am sharing...

I'm going all retro on this one. Guess who this is?

















My darling Little Boo. Hard to believe she was so little once!


:)

Friday Afternoon

A break was needed.

Bickering children and sighing mom, we loaded up the buckets and shovels, the blanket and chairs.

We packed up our shriveled and worn souls.

No music, no laughter. Just a gritting of the teeth determination that this is needed.

No matter if they/I deserve this respite from the messy house and littered life.
No matter if the oldest is about to pitch the fourth through the window (and with good reason, it seems...)
No matter.

Fighting traffic, fighting despair, we make our way to the open.

As the highway signs give way to trees and other life signs, my shoulders relax, my jaw un-clenches. The kids notice the birds: hawks and kites, swaying in the breezes that buildings of suburbia inhibit. The clouds are wisped with a painter's stroke.

Too long, I think. It's been way too long since we've done this.

Since we've escaped.

The weathered woman at the park entrance drawls her southern greeting and I smile. Unused muscles creak, and my tired eyes light up. Asking if we need a map, I shake my head. We have traveled this road... we have traveled these roads many times, too many times.

Yet not enough.

Winding our way to our place of respite, the kids squeal in delight:
















An empty landscape to make their mark.

No paths to follow, no mistakes to undo. Pure, clean and new.

We bring our burdens... we lay them out. And we work. Building and re-building. All of 5 of them work it through. The castles are tipped, the sand is carved. Moats, mortar, sticks and feathers.

Digging, laughing, squealing in the frigid water... wind-whipped hair, they circle around me as I lay on the blanket and soak in the warmth.

My camera dies, and I understand. The present is now, and I must capture within... the view of sand and children and sunshine reflected.

Muddy and spent, we head home... stopping for ice cream and treats.

No, we didn't deserve them. We don't deserve this.

Any of it.

:)

Advice From the Peanut Gallery

Little Boo (watching Sports Fan's basketball team get cremated this morning):

Hey, Sports Fan.... HULK- SMASH!!

No, I have no idea where she gets it from.

:P

Living in a Third World Country... Part IV

Part I here.

Part II here.

Part III here.


To be an American living in one of the upper provinces of the Philippines was difficult in so many ways. Not difficult as in "impossible to handle", but more as in "I obviously have so much to learn."

By the time I went to visit my family, they had been there for almost a year, and had adjusted quite well to their new life. I was duly impressed. Little did I know what a culture shock I was in for, when they took me from the big city of Manila to the upper part of Luzon where they had set up their home.

I had no idea how much we, as Americans, would stand out. I had no idea how much their life had become akin to living in a fish bowl. The differences in culture would be magnified a hundred-fold once we left the big capital.

The most obvious difference between Americans and Filipinos is purely physical. Well duh, I know.

Here in the States, we do not gawk at foreigners. I guess we consider it nosy or just plain rude. Besides, we live in a country filled with immigrants. Yes, we all fall into that category. Our ancestors were once immigrants, and to see citizens of other countries walking our streets is an everyday occurrence. Not so in the upper provinces of the Philippines. There, Americans are idolized. "Whitening" creams are sold, so Filipinos can lighten their skin tone... while we in the US have tanning creams... ironic, no? And blue eyes=beauty queen. My sisters were the belles of the school.

;)

Anyone over 5 feet tall is an anomaly. I can't tell you how many times I was asked my height before my name, when being introduced. And the inquiries were borne of awestruck innocence. They simply could not believe that anyone could be that tall.

I think the hardest part for my mom and I especially, was the seeming apathetic nature of the Filipino people. This is a tricky subject to navigate, but it must be brought out. Americans would not stand for a bridge half-built because the local government authorities pocketed the rest of the money. Americans would riot and demonstrate against a government that stole and lied and cheated it's people out of their due. Americans would stand up to police officers who attempted to extort money or demand bribes for the release of innocent citizens. Sometimes my mom would go on a tirade against the injustices of the Philippine government as she explained the depth of corruption that existed. I think she'd have taken on the whole country if my Dad would let her.

:)

It is difficult to watch a people that you have come to know and love, be cheated out of the necessities of life at every turn.

Yet, the people of the Philippines were not bothered by these injustices. They dealt with the half built bridge by taking a make-shift ferry across the river every day. They handed over hard earned wages to the police just to have the privilege of going home. These people are so poor that they must buy their cigarettes individually... not in packs or (oh, the luxury!) cartons.

And so it must seem very ironic that these people all have one amazing thing in common.

They smile.

They smile constantly. At everything, and everyone. As a reserved NYer, this was something I had to quickly adapt to. Like, instantaneously. My parents told me that it would be very rude if I did not smile at everyone I met or passed. And, being the only American family in the province, we attracted a lot of attention wherever we went. With eyes always on us, we lived and smiled.

It puzzled me then. As a spoiled American, I was astounded at their cheerful attitude. And it puzzles me now as I look back on it. I did not know what they had to smile about.

I am convinced, however, at the wisdom in their being content. Maybe "apathy" is too negative a word for their attitude. Maybe "resignation" is too weak a word. Maybe their joy came from simply living. From being alive and surrounded by friends and family. The government they regarded as a pesky fly that sometimes got in the way, but was tolerated.

They could be cheated, lied to, and stolen from... but no institution on earth could rob them of their joy.

Filed Under: I Don't Really WANT To Know....

And this is why...





















And yes, we are just now taking our Christmas tree down. We like to procrastinate prolong this joyous season!

:P

Living in a Third World Country... Part III

Even though my parents and siblings had work and school during the day, they were able to take some time and show me around like a regular tourist.

It was during these trips that the Philippine way of life became real and known to me.

Traveling with my parents to their teaching sessions (their ministry was to offer support to the teachers of the diocese) I experienced the insanity that is the "law of the road" in the provinces. There is a hierarchy. And if a bus wants to pass, everyone makes room. So a two lane road suddenly becomes a three or four lane highway! Jeepneys (open smaller buses) get the right of way over tricycles (small motorcycles with a sidecar) and bicyclists, though they also travel the roads, need to constantly pull to the side to let the other vehicles roar past. Allowing a bicycle to go first, and remaining behind it at a crawling pace will only get you honked at... as I learned while navigating the roads myself.

Another interesting sight in driving the country roads near the farms, is the inevitability that there will be huge patches of roadway covered with rice. The farmers need to dry out the rice pods before shelling them, and since the ground is marshy wetland, the obvious solution is to rake the rice right out onto the road. When possible, it is preferred that you navigate around these patches of rice, but given the hierarchy of vehicles, that is not always possible. I was horrified the first time we plowed over some poor farmer's swath of rice, but soon realized it was that or suffer a collision.. either head on, or from behind. And so we just drove on.

I think the scariest ride was the one we took to Baguio, in the province of Benguet. It was a three hour drive, through the most beautiful and rugged landscape. The city itself sits in the Cordillera Central Mountain Range, and therefore boasts more mild temperatures. I was eager to experience some cold air again! The last part of the drive, though, almost made me regret our trip. Since Baguio City is on a mountain, we were driving switchbacks on a road that really seemed to be meant as a one lane only. Now picture our little jeep sharing the road with buses and jeepneys, and yes, the occasional bicyclist? Yes, I kept my eyes closed a lot.

This is what I was fearing, and what actually happened during a typhoon last year:















(photo credit)

This is the very road we took.

As you will come to realize throughout the rest of my posts, one comes to the reality of "letting go" of the insulated fears of the west. It's hard to explain... but bouncing along in a tricycle on rocky, muddy roads, or holding on for dear life at the front of a fisherman's boat as you speed through an inlet on your way to an island in the South China Sea, you truly realize that your life is not your own. You are at the mercy of the elements, simply because you are too poor to keep the elements at bay. And you have a choice.

You can choose to live in constant fear of the next wave, the next bend in the road, or the next typhoon. Or you can simply accept what God has in store, relying on His grace and wisdom and love to see you through. Either way, you cannot have the final say. So you may as well smile a lot, (the Filippinos are always smiling) hold on tight, and enjoy the ride.

Living in a Third World Country Part II

In the humid and close mornings, Geckos scattered over the floor and walls as we wakened. At first, I was startled by these little lizards, appalled to think that my mother tolerated their presence in her home. When questioned, she shrugged her shoulders and explained that they were a natural mosquito repellent. After that, I was very careful about where I stepped and even regarded those little creatures as friends.

After our morning showers, we would all pile in our car (a very old sedan, no A/C). Since there were 7 of us, there were not enough seat belts. A very real problem here in the U.S. but not even a consideration there. I didn't say a word, but pulled one of my little sisters onto my lap to make room. Off we went to the church "compound" where my siblings went to school and my parents worked with the Bishop.

One day, my mom took me to the "marketplace" downtown. If you were to look in a National Geographic magazine that pictured marketplaces in Africa, the same would apply here. I was really enjoying myself, looking at all the exotic fruits and even purchasing a few to try. My favorite was a round spiky fruit called Rambutan. When you peeled it, there revealed a milky white slippery fruit which you popped into your mouth, being careful not to bite the pit. It was incredibly sweet and juicy.

What I wasn't prepared for, was the raw meat section of the market, located under the tents. There was no refrigeration, and the stench was unbelievable. My mom led me past the barrels of fish and, noticing my wrinkled nose and gagging mouth, warned me not to offend by my expressions. I pasted a smile on my face and tried not to throw up. We purchased our chicken, and I watched in amazement (and I hope, not horror) as the smiling woman whacked the head off the hanging whole chickens and handed them to my mom who placed them into her bag, paid, and walked serenely away.

I helped my mom carry our goods to a waiting tricycle (small motorcycle with a sidecar) and we zoomed home.

I'm pretty sure she held on to the chickens...

:)