Hard Packages Come By The Truckload

I'm not complaining. Really, I'm not. But let me tell you about the last seven days:

1) DH has his aforementioned minor health issue that, despite its minorness (minority? minorinity?) causes him much pain and suffering and requires a good bit of my time and attention, as he is confined to bed for the better part of a week.
2) Various friends and authority figures have their aforementioned difficult conversations with me re: my kiddos.
3) We discover financial impropriety committed against us by someone we trusted.
4) We discover that we are the victims of click fraud and that two months of our advertising budget is drained away in two days. And is unrecoverable.
5) We have to terminate someone's employment. And this individual is NOT happy about it.

To be honest, I've had much harder weeks in my life. So I do have some perspective on the current trials. I know that in the grand scheme of life, I'm a mega-millions lottery winner. I have love and marriage and kids and parents and siblings and friends and health and brains and ability and education and happiness and freedom and help and support out the wa-zoo. I am rarely lonely. I am rarely depressed. I have a million, billion, trillion, googolplex more blessings than I deserve. And I know that counting them is one of the best remedies for self-pity in times like this.

But still I shake my head that life works this way. When things are going your way, it seems like everything's going your way and always will. When everything starts going south, it's like your life is one big black hole sucking all your resources down into an infinite void. Go figure.

I'm grateful to be old enough to know that this too shall pass. It may get worse first. But eventually the UPS truckloads of bad news will start to reduce down to Miata-sized carloads, and some good things will start arriving to counteract the bad, and before you know it I'll be blowing sunshine and handing out daisies with Pollyanna 'cause life is SO sweet. (I've been accused of Pollyanna-ism before. More than once. Let this serve as my public apology to all I've offended.)

But until then, know that I am down in the trenches, praying, crying out, trying to remember how to lean on Him who gives generously and without reproach. I need wisdom. I need strength. I need courage and fortitude and endurance. I need more than I have. This is where I am.

**********

So. Enough about me.

Patty, my sister in combat. Would it comfort you if I said I think I know EXACTLY how you feel? It just stinks when your kid doesn't live up to your expectations for him, but it stinks DOUBLE when he does it in PUBLIC. It takes so much ENERGY, this parenting thing. I will pray for you!!!! To have the wisdom to see what is in his heart and to know how to address it effectively. I think the apology and notes are a good idea.

Tom, it's sad but true: It hurts you A LOT worse than it hurts them. You'll see. (Soon, I hope.)

Needleroo and Melissa: Thanks for the encouragement. It helps to know Patty and I aren't the only ones whose children aren't perfect.

Ok, I'm off now. In the next couple of days I hope to have a positive report.

Good Lessons Come In Hard Packages

I haven't been blogging lately. (News to y'all, huh?!) I'm currently nursing DH through a minor health issue (nothing serious, thank goodness), trying to stay on top of school, and trying to spend time in earnest prayer for some people I love whose marriage is dissolving. These efforts require time. Away from the computer.

Furthermore, in the last month, I have had not one, not two, but THREE difficult conversations with friends or authority figurews regarding each of my children. Two were about behavior issues. One was about academics. All three were painful in their own way, which reminds me that I am prone to worshipping at the altar of Children Making Their Parents Look Like All-Stars. I know this about myself - that I want perfect kids who will make me look good - yet it always stings to be reminded of my selfishness. Ouch.

Note to self: Parenting is a marathon, not a sprint. And: It's not about me. It's about them.

One good thing that has come out of the pain of confronting my children's shortcomings has been the opportunity to talk with them deeply. A lot. I can say that I do feel closer to my kids because of having to dig down into some of this stuff. And with both of the behavior issues, I have had the chance to reiterate to my kids that I love them and have a duty to them NOT to let them go off in foolish directions. Protecting their boundaries is part of my job. (And DH's too, of course. I'm grateful not to be in this alone.)

And another good thing has been the reminder that my efforts alone cannot produce good kids. Homeschooling isn't sufficient either. Great parenting is a good thing, but it is no substitute for God's grace. It is only His work in our family's life - collectively and individually - that will bear lasting fruit. It is good to be reminded that He is more than sufficient and that my success depends upon dependence. Not on self-reliance.

Again: It's not about me.

If getting that idea tattooed across my forehead would help, I just might do it.

Happy Days

Today was a good day. We did lots and lots of school. DS2 has been assigned Foxe's Book of Martyrs, which means that I am reading it aloud to him and simplifying as I go. Always a mental challenge. I want to keep the majority of the style and the structure, but I have to shorten the sentences and translate some of the words I know he doesn't know. Like "impugn."

DS2 is finally starting to improve in math and grammar. I have gotten more consistent about checking his work, which I think is helping.

DD is halfway through her Saxon! Yay! I have dropped the stupid meeting and have figured out additional ways to pare down the lessons into manageable size. We are unfortunately only maybe 20% through Story of the World, though, so I've go some catching up to do in that arena. Luckily, at least it's interesting.

After school I went to the grocery store armed with a list I started three days ago that contained all the things from the pantry we were running low on. You know it's time for a grocery run when you don't have salt. Or pancake syrup.

While I was there I got the ingredients for beef stew with vegetables. It is simmering right now, but has another hour to cook. DH comes in every 10 minutes to ask if it's ready. Mmmmm, smells good! We're munching on cheese and crackers while we wait.

And the second half of the season premiere of 24 comes on tonight!!! Woo-hoo! Last night was shocking! (But that's how it goes with 24... part of the reason I like it so much.)

Good, normal, happy days. I record this one here because you never know when you're going to hit a streak of bad ones. When that happens, I'll have something pleasant to remember and hang on to.

Shock and Disbelief

Randi St. Denis is a local homeschooling mom who for years has been the organizer of a local (and wonderful) homeschooling convention held annually in metro Atlanta. Recently her family has been the victim of a great tragedy, and to add trauma to an already terrible experience, DFACS has seized their grandson.

You can read the details here.

I am shocked and horrified.

I do know that there are two sides to every story... and I do know that sometimes we snap to judgment when we don't have the full picture... but wow. This woman has a pretty impeccable record of public service to homeschoolers and regular schoolers alike. She puts on numerous (free) workshops for parents throughout the year. She and her husband generously offer their time, their wisdom, and their hearts to children all over the state of Georgia every year. And none of this generosity or public service seems to have made a whit of difference to DFACS. I wonder if it even made her a target.

If you are a praying person, would you consider praying for the safety of this poor child? I cannot imagine how confused and afraid he must be right now.

Hmph.

Remember a few posts back when I recommended A Million Little Pieces? Well, guess what NPR featured last night? James Frey just might be a fraud.

Hmph. That's all I have to say. Hmph.

Okay, maybe I have a little more to say. Which is: Aren't you tired of this? This notion that the truth is liquid, flexible, not really something to stand on? I am. I really am. From Stephen Ambrose to all those reporters in the late 90's either plagiarizing or just making things up. Either way, it's so disappointing.

It's not that I'm sad that Frey wasn't as "bad" or didn't suffer as much as he claimed to. It's not even that I'm angry that I was taken in (which I am, because I was). It's that every time an author publishes what isn't really his, or misrepresents his work as truth when it's fiction, or makes up sources, or embellishes his resume, we all suffer. One more little hole is created in the fabric of society. One more pillar of trust falls. One more clause is invalidated in our social contract.

I'm glad the truth came out, in this case. I hope it serves to strengthen the power of truth-telling everywhere. And I'm still open to the possibility that Mr. Frey has a reasonable explanation for all of this. While the article at The Smoking Gun is very convincing, it's always possible that it does not completely represent the whole story. So I'll be watching for further developments. But I must admit that things don't look good for James Frey today.

Patience and Humility are Fine Weapons

A week or two ago I was all set to write Patty in WA an encouraging missive about parenting through the tough times, imploring her to stay the course and fight the good fight and all that.

Well.

As it so happens, parenting (and blogging) once again turns out to be an exercise in humility, as less than 24 hours after I began putting my thoughts down, I was informed of the misconduct of one of my own… by a close friend whose children were hurt by my child's astounding lack of judgment. Sigh.

And therefore, I really do need to work out what to say to Patty. Because I need to say it to myself as well.

Sometimes parenting is war, and we all know what they say about war. But I don’t mean to say that you are at war with your child (although it often feels that way to me). Really, you – I – all of us parents (who are trying) are at war with a culture, a force, a nebulous, nameless, faceless enemy who wants less for our children than we want for them.

Sometimes the enemy takes the form of our own kids’ baser natures. Their own inherent sinful, selfish “me’s” want only what is easy, comfortable, entertaining, cool, powerful, or attention-provoking. So our job is drill sergeant, the tough guy who must whip these undisciplined souls into shape and help them develop an appreciation for what is good, what is true, and what is eternal. These desires are all tastes that cannot be acquired unless easier but less valuable pursuits are sacrificed.

At other times the enemy is not what is inside our kids, but what surrounds them. It seems that there are great and powerful forces driven by commerce, government, society, and even other parents that buffet our kids daily. I don’t even mean the obvious MTV culture of teenage angst and rebellion or the many evil, evil people who would like to turn our kids into drug users or mindless sex drones. I also mean all those forces out there that would like my kids simply to accept, not to consider and weigh, the messages that they sell. The magazines that want my daughter to be obsessed with her appearance and not her mind or her character. The camp counselors who want to help my boys define “cool” by what movies they’ve seen or how much weight they can lift. The coaches and team parents who promote winning over gaining skills or advancing the fine art of playing as a team. The guidance counselors who want my kids to go to college not so that they can be better people but so that they can get better jobs. All those writers out there who publish articles on the Web about how to get a better career instead how to think about what makes a life successful, ultimately.

There are So. Many. Battles. It seems like every time I relax for even an instant I am sideswiped by some new attack. Exhausting and discouraging, the effort of parenting.

Yet even as I type this I am reminded that the victory goes not to the strong, but to those who trust. “Unless the Lord builds the house, they labor in vain who build at all.” “In all your ways, acknowledge Him, and He shall direct Thy paths.” “My Yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” It is past time that I ran back to the Source of All Strength and was reminded that His power is made perfect in weakness. It is past time that I rejected the idol of Being The Perfect Mom and ran instead to the Perfect Father. But, thankfully, even though this is what I should have been doing all along, it is never too late.

So. Patty. It is not too late for us. Your current battle is different than my current battle. But this is true for both of us: It is not our kids who are the enemy. We can love them and be strengthened by that love that wants the best for them. And we can go back to our Father for strength. He knows quite well what it is to battle disobedience in the hearts of His children or outside forces who would like to devour them. He can teach us too.

I welcome your insights, now that you have a little distance from your frustrations and things seem to be going a little better. I confess that while I am over the emotional hurt of the current skirmish, I'm still puzzling over how to counter-attack the real enemy.

Patty, I Haven't Forgotten You

I have just returned home from a visit to my Grandmother's house, where a lightning storm on our first evening there zapped all the power, phones, TV, Internet, and, eventually, toilets. (They have an electric water pump to access the well. No pump... no water.) So... A) I've had no access to Blogger for a few days, and... B) I'm so happy to now be home flushing my toilets with abandon that I'm not going to post my parenting post tonight. I did, however, work on it. And I will keep doing so until I get it right. Parenting has been on my mind lately (for reasons you will soon discover) so I want to get some thoughts out there. As soon as I clarify them.