Seven months

Every week she walks to the front, taking the bread of heaven and the cup of salvation in her hand. She holds on to the chairs for support. She smiles as one who knows that all is well. She is frail. She is beautiful. And every week I see her and my heart lurches and the tears fall. She reminds me so much of my mother.



My children laugh at me when I tell them this. Because, you see, she wears socks with her Birkenstocks. There are no well-ironed creases in her shirts. She is short.  My mother would have stayed home from church if Birkenstocks were her only footwear option.






But the way she walks, holding on to those chairs, the way her smile exudes wisdom and trust, these are reminders of the mother I miss. And watching her daughter's hand resting on her shoulder makes my hand burn with longing.

I miss you, Mama.

The Way I See It: Morning

Molly at Close to Home has begun offering a weekly photography prompt: The Way I See It. This week's assignment is Morning.

I have a love/hate relationship with mornings.  I  love being up, but getting up is ridiculously difficult for me.  I love getting up long before the crowd, and yet I often sleep until the first person stumbles through my room on their way to the shower.  If I get up early, coffee is a necessary element, preferably a hot, fresh Americano.  Fortunately when I stumble down the stairs in the morning, there is almost always espresso waiting for me.  This is one of the benefits of having a husband who wakes pre-dawn. 

If coffee is my first morning thought, light is a close second.  Once the sun comes up over the hill and heads towards our windows, the sun and shadows wake me up to the beauty around me.  I love the morning light. 

I am never ready to eat in the morning, but eat we must.  On special days popovers are a favorite breakfast, and when they are filling the house with their buttery fragrance, even I can get hungry.

I really do love morning, it just takes a cup of coffee to remind me of that fact each and every morning.

Love to take pictures?  Next week's prompt is home.  Join the fun at Close to Home.

The Friday Clive

(Senior devil Screwtape to junior devil Wormwood:)

"There is nothing like suspense and anxiety for barricading a human's mind against the Enemy.  He (God) wants men to be concerned with what they do; our business is to keep them thinking about what will happen to them.


Your patient will, of course, have picked up the notion that he must submit with patience to the Enemy's will.  What the Enemy means by this is primarily that he should accept with patience the tribulation which has actually been dealt out to him - the present anxiety and suspense.  It is about this that he is to say 'Thy will be done,' and for the daily task of bearing this that the daily bread will be provided."

"and things slowly come back into perspective"

 Cannon Beach, one of my special places

"Cooking is the only part of housekeeping I manage with any grace; it's something like writing a book: you look in the refrigerator and see what's there, choose all the ingredients you need, and a few your husband thinks you don't need, and put them all together to concoct a dish.  Vacuum cleaners are simply something more for me to trip over; and a kitchen floor, no matter how grubby, looks better before I wax it...Every so often I need OUT; something will throw me into total disproportion, and I have to get away from everybody - away from all these people I love most in the world - in order to regain a sense of proportion. 

I like hanging sheets on lines strung under the apple trees - the birds like it, too.  I enjoy going out the incinerator after dark and watching the flames; my bad feelings burn away with the trash.  But the house is still visible, and I can hear the sounds for a few minutes.  My special place is a brook in a green glade, a circle of quiet from which there is no visible sign of human beings.  There's a natural stone bridge over the brook, and I sit there, dangling my legs and looking through the foliage at the sky reflected in the water, and things slowly come back into perspective...If I sit for a while, then my impatience, crossness, frustration, are indeed annihilated, and my sense of humor returns."

A Circle of Quiet, by Madeleine L'Engle

First read aloud for the year, and a book trailer

Claire and I have really enjoyed N.D. Wilson's 100 Cupboards series (100 Cupboards, Dandelion Fire, The Chestnut King), so we got pretty excited when we heard about Wilson's new series:  Ashtown Burials.  Book one is now available:  The Dragon's Tooth.  We're looking forward to reading it aloud together.

When Zack was in Idaho this summer, he was able to help with the sound for the book trailer of The Dragon's Tooth.  I think it's pretty fun:

Waiting a little longer

I am never ready for school to begin in August.  My husband, however, has been teaching since August 10th.  Yes, you read that right.  August 10th.  Who thought up that calendar?  He is happy to be back in the saddle, though, and I am happy to, um, not be back in the saddle quite yet, so it is a win-win for the Wheeler family.

Phase One of our homeschool year (Great Books Two) starts next Tuesday, and Phase Two (Everything Else) begins the following Tuesday.  I happen to love the tradition of starting on the day after Labor Day.

I have to admit, though, it is time to be finishing up my school planning.  Earlier this week, in the reckless spirit of procrastination, I read blogs about homeschooling instead of working on my own plans. There are other areas where I use this technique: reading cookbooks in lieu of cooking, buying beading magazines rather than making earrings, hording yarn long before knitting anything, to name a few.  Though maturing means I do this less and less, this stalling methodology does reap benefits.  I get inspired, feel camaraderie, and learn.

Recent treasures include:

The humorous, wise and ever-reasonable Ordo Amoris:

There is always a sickening feeling that first school morning...You suspect that you have either planned too much and this will cause you to lose all credibility with your children or you have planned too little which will leave your children free to pursue their own interests such as Facebook or staring into space or eating, none of which give you any confidence in the idea of unschooling. But you wake up to find someone making coffee and someone reading their Bible and someone at the computer watching a math video and you feel a small stirring of hope.  Yes, we can. We can join together as a family in a symbiotic relationship of living, loving and learning.

I will think later on why "making coffee" caught my attention more fully than the "reading their Bible" part.  I am sure it had to do with how little sleep I got the night before.  I encourage you to read It Begins in its entirety.

Ann at A Holy Experience writes vulnerable words:

"Education is an atmosphere.” I once wrote Charlotte Mason’s words on a chalkboard, just so I’d remember.


I wanted to live in the air of that thought.


Education is the atmosphere we breathe, the envelope of wonder that surrounds us, held by the gravity of our daily habits.


I am scared to homeschool this year.


Sometimes an atmosphere can grow dangerously thin and lungs can gasp...When the books and the plans start to teeter, when I start to hyperventilate, I’ll need to remember the one Who I am supposed to live and breathe and have my being in.

I know well the hyperventilating, the need to remember what is true.  My days are often punctuated with humility.

And this is where my  procrastination strategy comes in.  It helps to hear the voices of others, to drink from the well where they find courage.  Being a teacher is serious business, and even with "only" two homeschooling students, I feel a healthy burden of responsibility.  Classroom teachers feel it, homeschooling parents feel it.  It's a big job.  Not impossible, but big.  And when the pressures of life start moving in, there has to be a way to block the door, turn off the phone, say no, ignore, or wait, in order to keep the atmosphere clear for learning.  That is my challenge this year.

So it's back to putting the finishing touches on the plans, back to summoning the courage and determination necessary for a great year.  More importantly, it is back to teaching two of my favorite people in the world!

Back to school.

But not quite yet.

The Friday Clive

The complexity - the close texture - of all the great events in the Christian year impresses me more and more. Each is a window opening on the total mystery.

Ulrich Schaffer (1942- ) for Laur

We ask ourselves what is behind it all
and meet the unanswerable a thousand times
and yet continue to be drawn
to the many doors of life.

We hesitate, but want to go on.
We are fearful, but want to learn.
We are timid, but want to be courageous.
We shrink back, and yet want to grow.

We have to take courage and jump.
We have to cut the ropes and set ourselves adrift.
We have to leave the solid ground to learn to swim.
We have to sacrifice our security and take risks.

Then we will experience God as the hand in the abyss,
as the net under the high wire,
as lifeboat on the high seas,
as ground under our feet.

from Surprised by Light, 1980

Putting the leaf back in the table

Sometime in June I took a leaf out of the table. There was not going to be a day for the rest of the summer when even six of us would be here for dinner; the circle would be enough.






Every morning it hit me, sort of like those "what is wrong with this picture?" games.  The table was too small, and yet it was just right.







Today we put the leaf back in. Everyone is home for two short weeks, and we are beginning to ascend to the routines of autumn.  Madelaine will leave on the 2nd of September, but for now everyone is home.  And I am happy.

Prayer for families

Almighty God, our heavenly Father, who settest the solitary in families: We commend to thy continual care the homes in which thy people dwell. Put far from them, we beseech thee, every root of bitterness, the desire of vainglory, and the pride of life. Fill them with faith, virtue, knowledge, temperance, patience, godliness. Knit together in constant affection those who, in holy wedlock, have been made one flesh. Turn the hearts of the parents to the children, and the hearts of the children to the parents; and so enkindle fervent charity among us all, that we may evermore be kindly affectioned one to another; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

The Book of Common Prayer

CiRCE

Every year I go through mental and fiscal gymnastics to see if I can go to the annual CiRCE conference. Every year there is a roadblock; sometimes it's time, sometimes it's money, often it's family needs. This year there was EVERY roadblock possible. It was very obvious I was NOT supposed to attend, even though the topic is one I have been wrestling with deeply for the last three years: What is Man? A Contemplation of the Divine Image.

At least now I can listen to some of the talks.  Want to join me?  You can find the talks online, some free and some for cost:

CiRCE free audio library

2011 CiRCE Conference talks for purchase

A special note:  One of the reasons I was so sorry to miss this year's conference is that my dear friend Marcia Brim (from Brimwood Press) spoke on narrative theology, specifically the Genesis 1-3 text.  We've had conversations on this topic at our annual lunches for the last few years; I would have LOVED to be there to participate in the discussion that was birthed from her talk.  I highly recommend you listen to Teaching Theology through Story.  It can be found in that second link, just scroll down to the end of the list.

I am already looking ahead to 2012...maybe this time the road will be clear. 

The Friday Clive

"Most, I fancy, have discovered that to be born is to be exposed to delights and miseries greater than imagination could have anticipated; that the choice of ways at any cross-road may be more important than we think; and that short cuts may lead to very nasty places."

Taken from Selected Literary Essays, "The Vision of John Bunyan" (1962)

A gift of grace

Shortly after we arrived in Cannon Beach for our vacation, my friend Angela came to our room bearing a gift. Little did I know what beauty was wrapped in that simple brown paper.

We only see each other for a week each summer at the conference center, and yet she has prayed for us through my mom's illness and reached out to our family in many thoughtful ways.

But this quilt...oh my! Part of the gift is knowing that the fabric choice and piecing and careful stitching are bathed in prayer. This is a gift of grace to me.

There's no way around the fact that the last two years have been difficult ones, and the last nine months particularly so. Amidst it all, though, there are kind friends, generous gifts and quilted beauty. It really does make a difference.

Thank you, Angela.  Your friendship is a gift to us.

Twenty-one

Has it really been twenty-one years since this beautiful girl came into the world?  Surely it has only been a day, and yet it has been forever.

I am deeply grateful for my daughter.  From her earliest days she has been a joy, and over the years she has filled our family with stories and laughter and questions and wisdom.  She is great company and a fascinating person.

Monday evening was clear and warm, the perfect time for a birthday celebration on the Fitzpatrick Winery deck.  This vista of Chardonnay grape vines and the extensive Fairplay wine region has been the backdrop for dozens of our birthday, anniversary and ordinary day celebrations over the last twenty-two years.  The tranquility of the summer evening above the vineyard set the scene for our party of four; add to that a bottle of Eire Ban Sauvignon Blanc, and Madelaine was able to lift a glass with us as we celebrated her twenty-first birthday.

Even the setting sun seemed to understand the importance of this day, the celebration that was happening under its layered canopy. Amidst the deep conversation, the kind that crops up around Madelaine so often, we almost missed the beauty behind us. Fortunately, it tapped on my shoulder and caught my attention just in time.

Happy birthday, dear Madelaine. I am so grateful for you!