Blessed to be One of the Committed Few

As many already know, we've been attending a newly planted church in our little town.  It's actually a satellite location for a church down the highway a few miles, in Warrenton.  Being a part of this long-prayed-for start-up has been one of the most exciting experiences of my life.  I could relay all of the wonderfully intricate details of how this idea of a church was thought up, planned, and executed...but I'd rather just move on to the meat of my thoughts.

To say that this church means a lot to me is an understatement.  Oh, if you only knew how much I have vested in this endeavor. Our very first meeting was held at my house with folks I had spent months chatting with...hoping that they might see the value in bringing this church to Knappa.  Thankfully, we now have a committed few who are faithful to be there.  A committed few.

Last Sunday, as I was sitting in the pew with my husband and kids I could hardly focus beyond my thoughts. I didn't even sing in worship, and I half-listened to the message.  My mind was wandering in the valley of anger, worry, and discontent. "Why aren't there more people here?" "Is our church going to fizzle?" "Why don't people make church a priority anymore?"....and on and on.  I knew I needed to change my attitude, but the discontent continued to stew.  I was tired of trying to be a cheerleader for the church, tired of hoping friends would show up, and tired of being one of the committed few.

The pastor's message was coming to a close and he caught my attention with something he's said many times before..."church isn't a social club." And he went on to talk about how church is a safe haven for the lost, and how it's our job as Christians to seek and save the lost.  It's that simple!  So often I get sidetracked into thinking that church is for "me."  When really, "I" am the church!  I don't go to church to be served...I go to serve others.  We all make excuses for not going to church...too tired, need a family day, got a sports commitment...or the biggest one..."I'm already a Christian and I don't need church."  Well, I've got news for you...the church needs YOU!

Pastor Tony really made me think about this, and I wish I could just repeat exactly what he said.  It's nothing that I hadn't heard before, but it was exactly what I needed to hear at that moment. The church needs its Christians to do what they are all called to do. What kind of an impression are we making if the "lost" come to church to find that none of its Christians are there?  Do you think those people will ever want to come to that church again?  The "lost" are looking to us (the church) to be an encouragement in a discouraging world. That is our job!

 It isn't about me.  Believe it or not, I actually tell myself this every Sunday (especially on the days I have nursery duty!)...but last Sunday my mind was in a fog, and  I was having a hard time getting beyond "myself."  It was odd timing, as my kids didn't rattle on a handful of complaints that morning about having to sit in service.  We don't have a children's ministry beyond childcare for kindergarten and under.  The fact that we don't have a kid's program is also a sore spot for many.  For some people, they don't come to church because there is no children's ministry.  I understand...having kids in service can be difficult.  I was raised going to church every Sunday, and I spent many many Sundays "suffering" through church during times when children's ministry wasn't available.  Guess what? I survived!  And though I feel bad that my kids don't enjoy a dynamic service geared just for them, I know that (if anything) they will always remember watching their parents worship the Lord through singing, studying, and communion.  It's a good thing.

That brings me to my last thought.  Communion.  Growing up, taking communion was a very serious act.  We were asked not to partake until we understood the meaning, and were able to partake thoughtfully.  Unfortunately, many folks see it merely as a "religious" act and allow their kids to partake even when they don't know what it means.  Our church takes communion every Sunday, and every Sunday my kids take it as well.  Of course, I have spoken to them about communion and they understand.  However, kids will be kids, and it's hard to tell sometimes if they are only eager do what everyone else is doing.  Well, last Sunday, after the pastor had my attention with those last few minutes of his message, we moved on to communion.  I was already prayerfully preparing to receive communion and not paying attention to my surroundings.  Usually, the rustle of my kids next to me is enough for me to open my eyes and notice that the bread and the juice are being passed to our row.  This time was different.  My eyes were open as Synnove and I were handed the tray, but Soren's hands weren't reaching on the other side of me.  I glanced over to see him with his eyes closed and bowed head rested on his folded hands...and his lips were silently moving in prayer.  I grabbed his juice and bread for him and silently wept in thanksgiving to God for showing me, yet again, the reason I'm blessed to be one of the committed few...

"Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful. And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching." (Hebrews 10:23-25)

Thinking of Bryan...

Today was a pretty blah day.  I woke in the wee hours of the morning with my head feeling like it was going to explode.  Nothing was taking away the pain and I was finding it difficult to even pray.  I was frustrated.  I am frustrated.  I was looking forward to going to church this morning...but ended up staying in bed with my aching head.  And what did I do? Well, I just laid there...thoughtless.

I'm wandering in the desert of spiritual dryness.  I miss that longing in my soul to spend time with Jesus.  If you aren't a person of faith...faith in Jesus...then you might think that strange.  There is nothing that compares to the feeling of being so close to my Savior.  I've never been good at being a witness for Jesus because I've got such a logical mindset.  I think that people might think I'm nuts if I tell them that they can have a relationship with God. What does that even mean? And how on earth can I even explain it? Well, I'm not sure that I can...but then again, I'm not sure that I have to.  Fortunately, God is bigger than me...and he can use what I have to give despite my feelings of inadequacy.  In the past couple of years, I've really wrestled with my faith.  I've always believed in God, but never really understood why.  Questions would often arise in my thoughts, but I would rarely pursue them.  I was content to just believe.  It wasn't until I was face to face with the enemy that I had to cinch up my bootstraps and really start seeking out the answers...so I could give them to Bryan.

Bryan Scott Edwards was born on December 18th, 1985.  I was five and he was my very first cousin to be born on my mother's side of the family.  He was a treasure.  Sweet, thoughtful, funny, and oh-so-lovable.  Though we were five years apart in age, we grew up together and I have many fond memories of him as a child.  Everyone loved Bryan, and loved to be around him.  He was always cracking jokes, yet he had a very tender side and was often looking out for others.  Bryan grew up and got mixed up in the wrong crowd.  He was constantly trying to be a better person, but he was really good at self-sabotage.  I can't tell you how many times he was in trouble...serious trouble.  Even so, he continued to try to pursue a career and had landed a deckhand job with Foss Maritime.  It was a good job, he was making some good money, and he was planning for his future.  Long story short, he severely hurt his back, got addicted to pain meds...and it all goes downhill from there. 

It had been at least a year since I had seen him last.  I was worried about him...missed him.  I had known that he was addicted to heroin and was living all but estranged to our family. Bryan was loved by our family...and was very special to me.  He would talk to me, take the time to visit, and he genuinely loved me. He even wrote me letters sometimes when I lived away.  Anyway, I ran into him at Fred Meyer one day (or rather, he ran into me).  It was one of those rare times that I was actually at the store without my kids.  He was on something, but he was happy to see me...in a shy, sort of embarrassed way. We talked...he poured out his feelings in the toy aisle amidst sarcasm and pride.  I talked with him the best way I knew how...with love, humor, and a bit of reprimand.  We talked for at least 15-20 minutes when he asked if I wanted to meet his girlfriend.  She was milling around the store...he caught up with her, and we met.  Bryan was so broken, and despite the fact that his girlfriend wasn't who I would have picked for him, I was glad that he had her.  We talked for a bit, and towards the end he told me that he had been hanging with my neighbor lately.  I was thankful that I caught wind of this...because it prepared me for what was to come.  I openly hugged him, and made sure to tell him that I was praying for him and loved him.  We parted ways.

A couple of months later Bryan's truck appeared at my neighbor's house.  I wasn't quite sure, but it seemed like Bryan and his girlfriend might have been staying there and doing some work for him.  It's not uncommon for my neighbor to have random shady-looking guys doing work for him.  I was reservedly excited and hoped that I would run into Bryan at some point.  We waved once or twice and he spoke with Adam once...but for the most part, Bryan kept a respectful distance.  Bryan had been in and out of jail on various drug charges...and he had just gotten out for selling.  Adam and I were constantly on guard, and all I could do was pray that God would protect us and our home from whatever danger could arise. People aren't the same when they're on drugs...and they'll do anything to get them.

Bryan's truck was parked at the neighbor's with the hood up for a couple of weeks...broke down, no less.  Then, late one night in June, our home phone rang.  It was Bryan.  My heart nearly sank to my stomach in fear at the sound of his voice...what did he want?  Our neighbor was sick of Bryan's truck being parked at his house and he wanted it out, so Bryan asked if he could tow it up the driveway and park it in front of our shop.  I was nervous...if I thought it was good for him, I would have given Bryan anything...but this was a tough call.  Fortunately, Adam was home, and we agreed that it would be ok.  We knew that there were few to no options for Bryan at that point, and how fortunate for him that we lived next door??  Ha ha ha.  Bryan and a friend towed the truck in the dark after midnight that night while we watched from the house above in secret. 

At least 3 weeks later, my in-laws were visiting.  It was dinner time and we were all getting ready to head to Clatskanie to eat...until I heard a strange car pull up down at the shop.  It was Bryan.  Adam was in the shower...I ran to tell him the news and then rushed down to greet Bryan.  He was extremely apologetic as I jokingly gave him a hard time for dropping his truck and leaving it without ever calling or coming back. Then I saw his face....broken and emotionless. I said "are you ok?" and he couldn't speak.  Ever-so-lightly, he shook his head "no" as a lone tear streamed down his cheek.  Bryan was a very proud young man, so to see him like this made my knees go weak.  At that point he was pretty drugged and was frustrated with the fact that he couldn't even think, let alone try to fix his truck.  His girlfriend had kicked him out and he had been sleeping in a car (not quite sure where he got the car) in the woods for a few days.  In order to get to my house, he'd actually run out of gas and sat by the side of the road until someone came to help him.  He had nothing...and he asked for nothing.  We talked for a bit and he was afraid because he was probably going to be going to prison in a month or so.  I was torn because I wanted to stay and talk with him, but we were headed to dinner and Adam surely wasn't going to leave me alone.  Before we left he had asked for an empty gas can to siphon the gas that was in the truck to put in the car he was driving.  We gave him one and left...but not without me giving him hugs and telling him that I loved him.  I wanted to give him more, but I didn't have time to run back to the house.  I was sick to my stomach all the way to Clatskanie.  I text my mom and sister and asked them to pray right away.  I was so worried.

When we arrived back home, over two hours later, I was SO excited to see Bryan still siphoning gas out of his truck.  Why was he still there? Well, God kept him there...no doubt in my mind.  As Adam drove up the driveway, I leaped out of the car before it even stopped.  He had fallen asleep in his truck and had woken minutes before we arrived back home. Praise God! I immediately struck up more conversation and asked him if he would like me to get him something to eat.  He respectfully declined and I insisted.  I knew he had to be hungry.  I told him to wait while I ran as fast as I could to the house.  I packed an unopened bag of jerky, and huge bag of goldfish, and a few sodas.  I also ran to my room to frantically grab a couple of books.  I grabbed "Streams in the Desert" (a devotional) and "Heaven is for Real."  I didn't care if Bryan was too "macho" to read those books, I had an opportunity, so I took it!  When I got back down to the shop, Bryan was finished.  As I handed him the bag of food and explained the books, the look on his face was so telling.  He was so ashamed to be taking the food...ashamed to be there in the first place.  I continued to smile and I hugged him over and over (he never hugs back, by the way).  I told him I missed him, that his family missed him, that we loved him, etc, etc.  Then, with tears streaming down both our faces I looked him straight in the eyes and told him to not even THINK about taking his own life (not in those words exactly). I didn't let him leave until he agreed with me...then I cried as he left.

The following few weeks were rough for Bryan.  He eluded the police in a car chase, and again on a different date on foot. Bryan knew his fate was sealed, so he decided to "have fun" until the inevitable happened.  One night, after the police arrested him, Bryan went into convulsions in jail and he was taken to the hospital.  The police told the doctors in the ICU that "he took his 'stash' before his arrest" so he was OD'd on heroin and needed to be closely watched and they chained him to the bed before assessing his needs.  The next morning my mom called me and told me that Bryan was close to death and in an induced coma.  After much prayer, I decided to go see him in the ICU.  The police had released him despite the charges against him, but the plan was to keep Bryan in the dark about the release until he asked.  They were in the process of gradually pulling him out of the coma when I arrived at the hospital.  He declined seeing me, but the kind nurses allowed me to do as I pleased.  I entered the room and he immediately buried his face into the side of the bed.  Shame. So much shame.  I was upset with him because, from what the police said, he was taking a risk at ending his life by taking his "stash" of drugs.  Bryan was barely responsive, but I spoke my heart nonetheless.  I even went so far as to place my hand on his shoulder and pray out loud for God to release him from his chains.  I bawled.  I didn't want to lose Bryan...yet he was on a path of destruction.  I continued to voice my concerns to him and forced him to answer me...in the first 20 minutes that I was there, his face never came out of the corner of the bed.  There are many more details to that afternoon, but eventually my mom came and we both prayed some more and tried to talk with him. By the time we left, he was sitting up and eating, but he still didn't speak.  He listened, nodded, and cried.  Bryan absolutely refused to see his parents.  The next day he found out he was released by the police and left the hospital despite their urging him to stay and seek help.  In the last couple of years of his life he had been through a few rehab programs...always returning to his old ways.

A week or so later was fair week.  Fair week is kind of a big deal in the Edwards family.  Bryan's parents are very involved, and his dad is on the fair board.  Both Bryan and his sister Jenessa raised animals and showed them at fair every year while they were in school.  My family also enjoys fair week and visit the fair almost every day that it is open.  One night the kids and I were coming home late from the fair...it was after 9:00 but it was still a bit light out.  We came up the driveway to see Bryan diligently working on fixing his truck...happy and energetic.  I was thrilled to see him looking so good after his visit to the hospital.  In fact, I hadn't seen him looking this good in well over a year.  I pulled over, the kids stayed in the car, and Bryan and I chatted a bit as the last bit of light left the summer sky.  I didn't want the night to end!  He had asked me what had happened that day in the hospital because he couldn't remember from being so sedated.  I told him what the police had said, and he was shocked.  He said he never took his "stash" and that he didn't even have any drugs on him that night they arrested him.  He actually knew he was gonna get arrested that night (there was a warrant out) and he just waited by the road waiting for them to find him...once they did, he ran "just for fun." So typical of him.  Once they arrested him, they asked him what his "habit" was and he told them.  He also said that he had already tried to decrease his "habit" before getting arrested so that he wouldn't get as "dope sick" in jail.  He was frustrated by the justice system, as was I.  But I'm not gonna go into detail about that right now.  The important thing is that I was relieved that Bryan wasn't trying to end his life by overdosing on drugs.  We talked for at least 40 minutes while the kids waited in the car.  We talked about God, talked about family, and about how he was so thankful that I helped him that day when he was at my house.  He confessed that that day he hadn't eaten in a couple of days.  I told him God was watching over him...he didn't disagree...he didn't agree either.  He planned to return the next day to finish up the truck.  I told him I was looking forward to it.

I was beside myself with excitement at the prospect of spending more time with Bryan.  I had so much I wanted to say, but I had to be careful about saying it.  Already, we had talked so much and he was really questioning God, and Jesus...and who Jesus really was.  Because of my lack of Biblical knowledge, I was having a hard time proving Jesus to him in a practical way.  It was a real eye-opener for me, and that forced me to dig deeper in the Word to find out for myself so that I could give an account in the future.  I fervently prayed for God to help me to say the right things to Bryan.  I SO wanted him to return to God and start asking Him for help.  Bryan grew up in the church and accepted Jesus as a young boy. He knew who God was, but he wasn't convinced that He was still there for him. 

When he arrived, I raced down to the shop to meet him.  Adam wasn't home, and the weather was scorching.  The kids played outside by themselves while Bryan and I visited.  The entire 5 hours he was there, he never once asked for anything.  He was always very respectful of the "invisible line" and never pushed beyond what he thought he deserved, which was nothing.  He even declined when I asked him what kind of sandwich he wanted for lunch. Of course I fed him!  He never came up to the house, and was respectful and sweet when the kids came around.  Bryan loved kids and always asked how mine were doing. He attended all their birthday parties as well, when he was sober of course.

I stayed with Bryan the entire time he was working.  We had the best time.  He told me so much of his heart, and we laughed just like old times.  I prayed throughout the day...asking God to give me words.  I needed Bryan to see that he could have life with Jesus and that He would always be with him, no matter what.  I wanted Bryan to know that he was worth it, and that he had everything to live for.  Hell isn't a destiny anyone should desire...or even feel they deserve.  God had a plan for Bryan, and if he could just be open to it, he would see that his life could find purpose.  Of course, I couldn't actually "say" most of any of that for fear that Bryan would just shut off.  I really just had to hope that Bryan would see Jesus through me.  I tried my best...and the rest was up to God. 

Eventually, Bryan fixed the truck and he was off.  That was the last time I saw him.

It was a week or two later and he went to Jail to finally serve some time.  Our whole family was thankful.  He needed that time to think and get clean.  He served 3 months.  In that time I was able to send him some books (at his request and the request of his mother) and I sent him a book of testimonies from reformed outlaw bikers.  We also wrote to each other.  His last note to me was clear and from his heart.  He wanted so badly to be clean, sober, and successful...but he was still so ashamed.  He wrote that he was planning to come to our big family Thanksgiving which was in a couple of weeks.  I really prayed that he would follow through with that. 

Bryan was released from jail in good spirits.  He was ready for a new start, but I think he found he couldn't do it alone.  As I've said before, Bryan had too much pride.  He never came to Thanksgiving, and he shot himself just a few days later.

I was so so very sad.  In my eyes, the enemy had won.  There was no more hope for Bryan, and the thought made me sick.  I questioned myself...wondering if I could have done more, but I couldn't go back.  I did the best that I could, and my prayers had to do the work I couldn't do.  In the days and weeks following his death, I sought God for peace. How could I have peace knowing that Bryan was gone forever?  I needed to know that there was even the slightest hope that I would see his face in heaven.  Well, I sought...and I have hope.  But my search will never be over. I need to be ready next time...next time somebody asks me who God really is...I need to have an answer.

So tonight, as I beat myself up for not seeking God, for being spiritually dry, for having no words when I should be praying, I think of Bryan.  It was a gift to be able to share my faith with Bryan and to be able to spend so much time with him in his last months.  It's so hard to know how to talk to and help those that are so deep in destruction. 

Love.  Love the way that Christ loves. 

I pray renewal over my soul and ask that God send the broken so that I might be a light in their darkness.

 ^"But in your hearts revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect..." (1 Peter 3:15)

Soren's Super Mario Birthday

I really need to get back to picture-posting on my blog.  There are so many events that I've missed over the last couple of years.  I don't even think I blogged Soren's awesome Angry Birds themed party last year! This year, Soren is obsessed with all things Nintendo...especially Super Mario!  Soren turned SEVEN this year!  We had his party on October 6th (actual birthday the 5th) and it was a gorgeous day! We had a houseful...I counted at least 40 people at my house!! I have tons of pictures...but sharing just a very random few will suffice :)

Soren wanted to juice some apples for cider from one of our trees

Soren got surprised by Mario and Luigi (Chris and FiFi)! 

Amanda surprised us by bringing Brandi over from OSU :)

I was impressed that "Mario and Luigi" stayed in costume WITH mustaches the entire party

Aunt Suzie, Ian, and Grandma Q.

Gift extravaganza!

Blue funfetti Mario cupcakes

Mario and Luigi waterbottle and mustache straw favors! Soren is wearing his new Nintendo hat and glow-gloves :)

Ramblings of Today...September 24th, 2013

Life can be so demanding.  Sometimes I think "I only have two kids...why can't I catch a break?!"  It isn't always so busy. Or is it?  Life is good, but I'm looking forward to a break.

I think September often brings a rushed feeling.  Days are getting shorter, and the weather starts to change.  We savor our summers on the coast of Oregon, an when the rain starts to pour, the gloom sets in.  When I was a kid, I loved the fall.  September meant no more mowing the lawn and weeding the garden...and it meant that my birthday was near, along with Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas!  I loved hearing the rain outside, I loved the wind, I loved the cold, and I loved the dark days.  Now that I'm "grown-up" and have a house, have land, and have kids, I savor every summer day.  The reasons why are obvious.  But, in case you are wondering, here's a few clues as to why...wet, hunting, holidays, sick, overflowing gutters, wood stove, more holidays, unfinished summer projects, school, too much TV, and mud...lots and lots of mud. By the way, I now loathe the dark days.  Oh, to be a kid again.

Today, this week, next week.  A million things to do.  Just when I think I've got a full plate, I get another text...I get asked another favor...I get reminded of that thing I was supposed to do...I...I...I!!  This has been my life lately.  My birthday was last week...why is it that on my birthday I get asked to call people, go out with people, eat with people?  I know why...but, really...why?  Why can't they call me, bring me food, or babysit my kids so that I can go out by myself?!! LOL!  Frankly, I had a lovely birthday.  I digress...

And as I sit here, thinking of what I want to write next, my mind just races. 

Yesterday, Adam sent me a text asking what our Saturday plans were and my already lit fuse almost reached the powder.  "Why are you asking?!...because if you wanna make more plans, then the answer is an emphatic 'NO!'"  Poor husband of mine.  Really, he just longs to be home to do fun things with his family.  There are many days I wish I could trade places with him.  Yes, there are days I would just love to drive around a fancy new rental car with just the radio and the GPS to keep me company, spend several hours with adults, eat at lots of fancy restaurants, and enjoy countless evenings alone in a fancy hotel room.  Ok, ok...I'll take my rose-colored glasses off.  There is no perfect.  And when you make a commitment to your husband, your kids, your life... you realize the grass isn't always greener on the other side.

The grass is green today, and it's on my side of the fence.  It's just wildly overgrown. 

I'm already kicking myself for taking the time to write this random post.  When I started (it's now 8:22 PM), the kids were finishing up some school work, I was waiting for paint to dry, and waiting for Miss Evelyn to wake up from her nap.  Now, as I type, the kids are talking to their daddy via "face time" and showing off their new Halloween costumes.  I close my eyes and wish they were already ready for bed...but no, they still have baths to take, teeth to brush, and prayers to say.  Every night I make a goal for bed.  Goals are nice.

I still have a full night ahead of me...baby shower projects, birthday party planning, a few loads of laundry, and I MUST tidy up the kitchen before I go insane. Oh dear...8:42...gotta round up the kids. Nighty-night blog friends.

Our Sheep

Adam started working on fencing our back field over 2 years ago.  We were tired of trying to keep our curious and mischievous puppy home, and Adam had always dreamed of raising sheep or goats.  Very shortly after he got started, some unexpected things happened at his job that didn't allow him much break for at least 1.5 years...so the fence project took way longer than planned.  He used every free moment to work on the fence throughout this spring, and finished in late June.

 

While on our 4th of July camping trip, Adam just couldn't stop thinking about getting some sheep for our freshly fenced field.  Our tractor had been broken down for 2 years (another project that was gonna take time that Adam didn't have) and our field was rapidly becoming overgrown.  We needed some living and breathing "lawn mowers" to help out ASAP.  Adam had been researching sheep for quite some time, and settled on a breed of hair sheep called Soay.  Hair sheep are the kind you don't have to shear, they just lose their wool in clumps during the warmer season.  In his research he found that one of the great things about these sheep is that they will eat brush and briers, unlike regular sheep that only like grass.  Goats are great for briers as well, but they are more destructive and can be more nuisance than help.  We have a goat and have found this to be true.  Anyway, while camping, Adam found a few ads on Craigslist and ended up picking up Uncle Don's horse trailer right after dropping our travel trailer home at the end of our vacation.  Late that evening, he and the kids returned with a mini-flock of 5 sheep that the kids re-named: one adult ram (Luke), one adult ewe (Erica), one yearling ewe (Emily), and two lamb ewes (Cindy and Hannah). 

 

These sheep are quite skittish, aren't keen on humans (unless somewhat trained), and run like deer.  It has taken them a couple of months to get accustomed to their new home and to Lucy (our maremma sheepdog).  Lucy went crazy when the sheep arrived! She was curious, excited, and a bit defensive.  Mostly, she wanted to play and she would chase them all over the property.  Lucy has calmed down since then, and only chases them on occasion.  Kellen (our goat), spent the first week hanging out with Lucy only.  The next few weeks he became one of the flock, which we thought could be a problem (for a few reasons).  In the few weeks after that, we tethered him over by our fruit trees to clear some blackberries.  Then, when we returned him to the field, he seemingly regained his independence and he can now often be found wandering around on his own.

 

Here's a few pics of these cuties.  In order to capture these shots, I had to walk around with grain in a cup while running away from our very persistent oversized pygmy! It was a challenge!

 

Keeping their distance

 

 

 Luke and Kellen facing off

 

Ready? Set? Wing It!

So today was the first day of school.  This fact was glaringly obvious as I sleepily browsed through the morning Facebook statuses shortly after my alarm went off.  This morning I gave myself an attainable goal; be up, showered, make-uped, dressed, and fed by 9:00AM.  I'm not an early riser.  I enjoy late nights and late mornings...however, I'm turning over a new leaf.  I'm gonna try my hand at "home school super-mom!"  I know, I know...9:00AM is hardly "super," but it's super for me!!  I'm thinking that next week I'll try 8:30...we'll see.

I wasn't fully prepared for this morning...by my standards at least.  I had spent the greater part of last week ordering a few things online, cleaning up a few things, organizing books, and logging onto Connections Academy after 2.5 months of hiatus.  I was very fortunate to make early contact with the kids' teacher and felt fairly confident about the upcoming school-year after a brief conversation with her.  The kids have the same teacher this year...and it is awesome!  Still, after all of that, my online purchases have only arrived in part and some of my school preparations have been put on hold.  I'm a little bummed, but I have given myself a little grace considering the busy-ness of my summer.  August is often a more flexible month in terms of "free time," but the somewhat sudden passing of my father-in-law swallowed up whatever free time was left.  So, I crammed all of my school planning into the 5 days I had between two camping trips.  Five days sounds like a lot. Ha ha ha.

We left for a 4-day camping trip in Naselle, WA on Friday morning, and then I woke with a screaming sore throat on Saturday. Yay! I love spending time with my niece Evelyn, and spent the day watching her on the Wednesday before while doing all of my camping/school shopping in Longview.  She had a little cough at the time that had turned into a full-blown cold by Friday.  Anyway, I hastily pulled the reigns on my sore throat with my tried and true homeopathic remedy and have kept the symptoms down from a scream to a subtle nuisance.  Still, sleep has been a bit more difficult and I'm currently on day 4 of this "nuisance" that seems to stubbornly want to run its course. Blah. 

I'm pretty tired.  And my body is feeling it after a full day of home school.  But, I can't complain too much.  The kids woke before their alarms went off (alarm clocks for the kids was one of the online purchases) and were ready to go by 9:00.  I was surprised and refreshed by their eagerness to start the day.  And despite the rise of expectations from 2nd to 3rd grade, Synnove attacked her lessons with more patience and diligence than I had originally hoped.  My goal was to finish the day by 1:00, but there were a few hiccups...one being that my printer stopped working.  We didn't finish until almost 3:00, BUT we ended the day with big high fives and a new printer! Woot!!

I'm so happy right now.  Yeah, my nose is slightly stuffed and I have a printer to install, but I am overjoyed with the prospect of a highly successful 2013-2014 school year!

Baring My Heart a Little

Today I received the last of the kids' books for next school year, and I found myself pondering over that "first day of school."  I started to feel sad.  I'm so used to thinking "traditionally."  I like traditions, milestones, rites of passage.  They give me that warm fuzzy that helps me relate to others.  And part of me feels sad that my kids won't be experiencing that "first day of school" tradition next school year. 

 

I was reservedly excited for Soren to start kindergarten last year.  I had grand ideas of getting lots of projects done at home and enjoying some quiet time to myself.  However, I wasn't in a good place emotionally at that time and my moments of quiet were actually moments of anxiety.  My kids were constantly on my mind and I felt paralyzed.  I was also very busy, so any projects I intended to start/finish were put on stand-by.  I was still cleaning houses many days out of the week, hosting a weekly women's Bible study, and trying to complete my daily duties as "mom" and "dad."  Adam was gone most of the time for work...in another state...far far away. 

 

When you're a mom, you don't have time to be depressed or out of sorts.  I think I had spent too many years bearing an unnecessary amount of weight on my shoulders that I had become accustomed to stress.  And when Soren's health went sour about 3 years ago, I buried that stress and continued to stuff it, and stuff it, and stuff it....until it started to overflow and it started to overwhelm me.  Then, when Soren's health started to improve, every little stress, though less frequent, continued pile and show itself in the form of fear and anxiety. I just wanted life back the way it was before.  Soren's perpetual illness had changed me somehow.  If I was only worried every now and then before, I was now worried all the time, regardless of his upward progress to health.  It took some time, but with lots of prayer and seeking God, I eventually reached a breaking point, and the box full of pent up stress/anxiety/fear broke free.  Freedom.  It sounds fantastic, but it sure is difficult to maintain.  And it was about a year ago that I started picking up the pieces of my shattered box once full of fear and began learning how to do things differently.

 

When school started, my new found freedom was still pretty fresh.  I can almost say that I had become a different person...different in a good way.  But, I still had my "training-wheels" on.  I sent my kids to school while I pretended to have it all together.  I was happy for them to go back to their friends and teachers and wanted them to be there.  At the same time, I wanted them home.  I missed my kids.  I worried about them.  I couldn't even bring myself to run errands in town while they were in school.  What if they needed me?  My schedule at the time didn't really allow for me to volunteer...and what little time I did have, I usually spent alone with my Bible and my thoughts.  I really needed that time to myself as my anxiety was constantly trying to creep back.  Adam and I would catch a few "hello's" every now and then, but for the most part, if I was home, I was by myself.  Though working from home on his non-travel days, Adam was only around ONE time when we both could actually have lunch together.  Yes folks, in the 3.5 months that the kids were going to school full-time Adam and I were both so busy that we only had lunch together ONE measly time.

 

By December, I wasn't cleaning as many houses, our women's Bible study had fizzled because of so many sick children, Adam was set to have some time off, yet I was still in constant inner turmoil.  Our family started the battle with sickness, and I continued to recover from my cousin's suicide.  I had so many things going through my mind during that time.  I was constantly thinking, praying, worrying.  I would drop my kids off at the school turnaround and then pull in the parking lot to pray for them.  Pray for what exactly?  The Lord's covering over their day.  That was the only way I could leave the school with any peace in my heart.

 

I really didn't want the decision to homeschool to be a cop-out for dealing with my fears.  But, I couldn't help but feel like that's what I was doing, despite the many good and legitimate reasons I had for homeschooling.  It wasn't until I was knee-deep in homeschool stress that God showed me that this was most definitely in His plan.  Sure, it hasn't been easy.  In fact, the entire month of February was one of the worst months of my life.  But the stress I experience as mom and teacher is a different kind, and I now have a greater peace than I have felt in quite some time.  The benefits of being home with my kids greatly outweigh any doubts I have, or any sadness I feel about them not being able to attend September's "first day of school" event.  I'm really looking forward to the upcoming school year (thankful for another 1.5 month break though!!) and I know that the experience will continue to refine me as a person and as a mom.

 

Phew...what started as a easy-breezy blog post turned into a bit more.  My intention was to post some VERY belated photos of last September's "first day of school."  Here they are...

 

 



Kindergarten home visit with Mrs. Gantenbien.  I think Soren was pretty happy to get Mrs. G, as she was Synnove's kinder teacher as well!

 

First day of school (for Soren) September 2012

Waiting in the lunchroom with buddies Brooke and Jake O'Connor



He looks a little shell-shocked...he wasn't super excited, but I know he had fun with his old buddies from preschool.

Synnove with her SUPER wonderful 2nd grade teacher Mrs. Hansen

The Berry End of the 2012-1013 School Year

School is finally over.  Our last day was June 14th with Synnove finishing up her last few lessons of math.  The major change is now our new normal and the upset is virtually nil.  I am happy.  We didn't accomplish the things I intended, but we survived.  Thankfully, our days started to smooth out as the busy-ness of spring started to creep...not to mention the magnetic draw to venture out into our unusually warm and beautiful spring weather!  Who'd have thought I'd be able to get a nice brown glow from a week of sunbathing in April?!  I will say, though, our school days often still lasted till evening, but not because of screaming fits of rage and refusal.  Sunshine on the little piece of heaven we call "home" is a constant distraction, especially after being cooped up all winter.

 

We are officially enrolled with Oregon Connections Academy for the fall, and I'm looking forward to starting fresh.  The idea of doing 100% home school has been permanently placed on the back burner(for now).  I can never say "for sure" that things won't change in the future.  I just can't imagine putting myself, or my kids, through another change.  I'm not ready, nor am I dissatisfied with the program we are currently in.  I realize that there are a LOT of fantastic programs out there and that there are some that would be much better than what we're doing.  But, I've weighed the options in my head, and I really feel that ORCA is the compromise that will work best for the situation we, as a family, are in.  ORCA provides "flexible structure."  I had legitimate reasons for why I never wanted to home school...ORCA allows for those reasons to still stand (to some degree).

 

Summer is a welcome break...as always.  It's funny how some things just don't change.  For instance, the kids have been at each other's throats this last week!  It really was a true "first week of summer break" even though the kids weren't in regular school.  Haha!

 

On the 13th we went on one last ORCA field trip for the school year with Soren's super-awesome teacher, Mr. Jason Webber.  Jason was also my friend Andrea's daughter's teacher (this was ideal for planning and coordinating school stuff!).  Andrea and I caravaned with 6 kids to Sauvie Island to pick strawberries in the uncooperative weather.  We got SOAKED, but made the best of it.

 

 

Raelynn and Soren (Mr. Webber's 1st graders)



 

Jason's mom, Jason's daughter Hazel, Katelynn, Andrea, Rae (in the back), and Synnove



Synnove and Kate with boots caked in mud trying not to slip on the way back to pay

Rae, Jason, Soren, and Synnove

Me as a Classroom Teacher

My full-time student teaching practicum was difficult.  For some odd reason I had been placed in a bilingual classroom where about 2/3 of students were Hispanic and many of them spoke little or no English.  I don't speak spanish.  In addition to the language barrier, I had at least 3 students on a strict behavior plan, 3-4 medicated ADD/ADHD students, 1 severely learning disabled student, and 1 student with Asberger's syndrome.  Quite honestly, I felt like I was running a circus.  I was the only student in my 30-student elementary education cohort that had to be visited on-site by my professor.  My professor had to see with her own eyes what I was dealing with on a daily basis.  She agreed; I was a special case.

Despite the many issues I had, I really did enjoy the good times I spent with the students.  It was hard to get much of any actual teaching done, considering I didn't speak Spanish.  My cooperating teacher had to be in the classroom at all times to translate for me.  Plus, I was constantly chasing my Asberger's student around the room and trying to keep him from being disruptive and out of control (his parents refused to agree with a diagnosis, so he couldn't be put on an IEP and didn't have an aid). There were days I would go home and cry...but it was the hearts of my students that kept me going.  They were kind, generous, and understanding.  And even though that was 11 years ago, I can still see their faces and remember their names.

When I was done with student teaching, I wasn't that interested in getting a job in a public school (go figure!).  But, jobs were scarce, so I applied for anything.  I interviewed for 2 or 3 positions, but there was always a better, more experienced applicant.  I even registered as a sub in the Corvallis, Albany, and Lebanon school districts...but I never got a call...there were too many subs, and teachers already had their favorites. By December, I was desperate to work ANYwhere.  I started applying at preschools, Head Start, and "glorified" daycares.  I interviewed for two positions.  One paid minimum wage (daycare) with little opportunity for a pay raise, and the other actually paid a salary!  If I remember correctly, the salary was around $18,000 with FULL benefits.  Plus, it was an actual "teacher" position.  I wasn't the lead teacher, but frankly, I didn't care.  I just needed a job.

The job was exhausting and monotonous.  I enjoyed the people I worked with, but the students were extremely challenging.  I worked at a facility for high-risk, and often low-income, students.  And, ohmygoodnessgracious...my patience was tested hourly.  In order to get through a day, I often felt I needed to be an expert in speech and vision impairment, autism, sensory disorders, and SEVERE behavior.  There was one student in particular...I will never forget him.  We needed two teachers to restrain him in the hallway on a daily basis.  He would spit at you, cuss at you, kick you...he even smeared his own feces on the wall once.

So many of the kids were victims of abuse or divorce.  Many of the others were just in need of extra help.  It was kind of like running a sort of group OT session for 9 hours each day (I worked in an "extended-day" program).  A typical OT session is one on one...so you can only imagine how chaotic my days often were.

I worked there for about 9 very long months until I was laid off due to statewide budget cuts.  It was a blessing, really.  A few weeks later, I landed a teaching position at a private Christian school in Eugene.  It was an hour commute, but I was getting the opportunity to teach with two of my fellow GFU graduates!  The pay was virtually exactly the same as my preschool job once you factored in the fact that they offered no health benefits.  Woo hoo!??

Poor pay aside, I was just happy to finally be in a teaching position that I thoroughly enjoyed.  I loved it!  I had 11 2nd and 3rd graders that I looked forward to seeing each and every day.  And, the staff was like family.  Sure, I had issues on occasion...and about 90% of those issues were from parents. I was screamed at (yes, I said "screamed"), lectured, and virtually threatened.  Issues in private school settings often deal with angry parents.  I think they presume that because they pay for their kids' education, they are entitled to special treatment.  Little do they know, private schools are usually poorer and have much fewer resources than public schools.  The issues usually got smoothed out, but some parents are never happy.  Thankfully, I had a principal that backed me up 100%. 

At the end of the school year I found out I was pregnant, Adam was graduating for the 2nd time (graduated 3 times in all!), and we were moving.  I've never gone back to teaching, and I have little desire to ever teach in a classroom again.  I think, in order to be a successful teacher, one needs to be extremely passionate about it.  One would have to be in order to put up with all the abuse!

Looking back, I'm not sure why I was placed in such challenging positions.  Maybe it's because God knew I needed the experience? Haha...no, seriously.  Each child is different. Each age is different. There is no fool-proof formula for success.  Then, when you find something that works, the situation changes, and you are back to square one!

I'm not holding my breath, but the roller coaster I've been on for the last 2.5 months seems to be slowing down.  I've had a solid 4 days of home school success!  I'm elated!  Today, we were able to finish school before lunch!!  Finally, we may just be able to achieve that flexibility I was hoping for :)

The Long Overdue Home School Update

Phew...I've survived 9 whole weeks.

Like most people, I've had many challenges in my life.  When my daughter was born, life changed.  God had entrusted me to care for her, love her, and teach her how to find her way.  I don't think I will ever forget how I felt those first few weeks of being Synnove's Mom.  I was lonely, exhausted, and defeated.  I'm not sure what I thought was going to happen.  I was prepared for the challenge of bringing home a newborn...but I wasn't prepared for Synnove.

This is a perfect picture of how homeschooling has been.  Going into it, I knew it was going to be difficult.  I knew the behavior issues would escalate.  However, I was not prepared for such a severe degree of escalation.  I'm not sure I have the proper words to describe what the eyes of our house have witnessed in the last several weeks.  You may think you understand.  You may think you have an equally challenging child.  But, I have a strong hunch that you don't.  I think the only person on Earth who can identify with my plight is my mother...because I am her daughter.

Being "me" is my only saving grace.  That, and the fact that God is on my side.  I understand her complicated inner workings, yet they cannot be labeled.  I've read books, searched websites, and talked to countless individuals.  I have come up with few answers.  One of the few things I'm sure of is that I most definitely made the right decision.  And another thing I'm sure of...I (we) will be blessed for it.

We made small progress today, and I can only hope that progress will continue.  As I seek God and put His Word at the forefront of our days, I begin to see light.  Teaching will, once again, become a joy and I will actually want to get out of bed in the morning.  I don't want to admit it, but I have reached that fragile point where I just can't take it anymore. I'm learning to let go.  I'm learning to let God.  Today we started with prayer...prayer on our knees.  Two minutes later, as another sting ensued, we continued with tears.  I can't help it.  My heart just perpetually breaks...and the bandage of bitterness that I've used for so many years to conceal hurt has lost it's effectiveness.  My son keeps me going...he picks up the pieces of my heart.  He is my Jesus in the flesh and shows me how to love when love just doesn't seem possible.

I am so thankful for each of my children.  And my love for them is so deep that it actually causes pain in my soul.  My time with them is short, and it is so very important that I be the best mom I can be.  God gave me these lives to care for on Earth, and he expects me to make them my number one priority.  Also...without them, I wouldn't be who I am today.  They teach me things about myself, give me new perspectives, and sanctify my faith.  God's handiwork is perfect! I may be in one of the greatest trials of my life, but I can't help but be excited for what's to come. 

More details on homeschooling coming soon...   :)