Fall!

I sure wish we had the weather here to match this cute fall background I have! Alas, it is still hitting the low 90's almost every day. This is my least favorite time of year in Florida.

It's been six weeks since I've blogged, and so much has happened since then. I think I've actually been in denial, because the biggest thing that happened was that we took Landon off to college on August 19. It is SO strange not having him around! I'm thankful that he's only about an hour and 15-20 minutes away.

He's attending the University of Central Florida where he's majoring in Physics and Math and is part of the Burnett Honors College. This is a picture of the outside of his dorm - Tower 3. It's the Honors Tower and the majority of the kids who live there are also in the Honors College. He lives on the 6th floor of 7. It's an apartment type of setting. When you enter off the hall, you're in a living room with a full kitchen. On each end of the unit there is a bathroom and 2 bedrooms.



The building on the right in this picture with the green roof is a Barnes & Noble, one of two on the campus. Right across the street is a Jimmy John's, one of the two college cafeterias, and a frozen yogurt place. On the very next street is a Subway and a Dominos. There are also a couple of local places to eat on both streets. Lots of options. The Towers are at the end of the campus by the football stadium and the arena. UCF is the second largest university in the US, so there are a lot of options right on campus.

It probably helped the letting go process that we left UCF and headed to our timeshare in Sarasota. We took Chase's BFF Sarah with us. It was a very relaxing week, and I didn't do much except lie in the sun and read! I did hit the beach a few times when Carys begged.


Greg had to work all week, and Gerren started dual enrollment classes on Monday, so they went home Sunday night. We met them in Brandon and picked Gerren up Wednesday evening after he was done with classes for the week.

We managed to get 3 weeks of school done before the timeshare, and we're in week 7 now. Much better than last year when we were moving and making an emergency trip to Illinois for my aunt's funeral.

Landon came home for Labor Day weekend, and we played more board games than we've played in years. The next weekend we headed to UCF for Family Weekend. We didn't do much except hang out with Landon. We did go to a barbecue on Saturday afternoon at the Honors College.

We spent a lot of time sitting around on Saturday morning waiting for Landon to get out of bed while we called and texted and called and texted. It was after noon before he got up. Thankfully one of the televisions in the Student Union was playing kid shows.

Carys watched.


Greg perused the campus map.


And Chase played on her itouch.


We went to church with Landon on Sunday then headed back to the campus for free food sponsored by some student group.

In the Pegasus Ballroom where the "free" food was


Unfortunately, they were out of food by 12:30. Ugh! We'll know not to plan on that next year. So, we ate at Qdoba in the Student Union!

Outside Qdoba


Proof that Mom was actually here!


We're looking forward to going back at the end of October for Homecoming when we'll actually attend a football game.

Go Knights!

Finished At Last!

I finally finished One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp. From Chapter 11, the last chapter, this quote really spoke to me:

It really is like C.S. Lewis argued: that the most fundamental thing is not how we think of God but rather what God thinks of us: "How God thinks of us is not only more important, but infinitely m,ore important." Years of Christian discipleship, Bible study, churchgoing had been about me thinking about God; practicing eucharisteo was the very first I had really considered at length what god thought of me--this ridiculous and relentlessly pursuing love, so bold. Everywhere, everything, Love!

BUT this eucharisteo isn't easy for me! I'm finding this quote from the "afterword" to be so true:

Every breath's a battle between grudgery and gratitude and we must keep thanks on the lips so we can sip from the holy grail of joy. Nowhere else in the whole tilting universe lies the joy of the Lord but in that one word.

This is SO true for me. Every breath IS a battle between grudgery (which my spell-check tells me is not a word) and gratitude. Lord, help me win the battle!

I must return this book to the library by tomorrow. I think I will end up purchasing it as I KNOW I'm going to need to refer back to it! :)

One Thousand Gifts - Chapters 9 and 10

I know it well after a day smattered with rowdiness and worn a bit ragged with bickering, that I may feel disappointment and the despair may flood high, but to give thanks is an action and rejoice is a verb and these are not mere pulsing emotions. While I may not always feel joy, God asks me to give thanks in all things, because He knows that the feeling of joy begins in the action of thanksgiving.

What a great description of a day in the life of a homeschooling mom--"smattered with rowdiness and worn a bit ragged with bickering"--at least a homeschooling mom of more than one child!

In chapter 10, the author takes thanksgiving out of its bubble of self.

Eucharisteo is giving thanks for grace. But in the breaking and giving of bread, in the washing of feet, Jesus makes it clear that eucharisteo is, yes, more: it is giving grace away. Eucharisteo is the hand that opens to receive grace, then, with thanks, breaks the bread; that moves out into the larger circle of life and washes the feet of the world with that grace. Without the breaking and giving, without the washing of feet, eucharisteo isn't complete. The Communion service is only complete in service. Communion, by necessity, always leads us into community.
I hadn't fully seen it until after that night on Yonge Street: Eucharisteo means "to give thanks," and give is a verb, something that we do. God calls me to do thanks. To give the thanks away. That thanks-giving might literally become thanks-living. That our lives become the very blessings we have received.
I am blessed. I can bless. Imagine! I could let Him make me the gift!
I could be the joy!

And now she brings it down to my everyday life:

Scratching a stubborn pot furiously with a wire scrubby, I remember it again, what I once read of liturgy. That liturgy has its roots in the Greek word leitourgia, meaning "public work" or "public servant." The meaning! This life of washing dishes, of domestic routine, it can be something wholly different. This life of rote work, it is itself public work, a public serving--even this scrubbing of pans--and thus, if done unto God, the mundane work can become the living liturgy of the Last Supper.

Then she mentions the key:

When service is unto people the bones can grow weary, the frustration deep. Because, agrees Dorothy Sayers, "whenever man is made the centre of things, he becomes the storm-centre of trouble. The moment you think of serving people, you being to have a notion that other people owe you something for your pains... You will begin to bargain for a reward, to angle for applause."
When the laundry is for the dozen arms of children or the dozen legs, it's true, I think I'm due some appreciation.... But when Christ is at the center, when dishes, laundry, work, is my song of thanks to Him, joy rains. Passionately serving Christ alone makes us the loving servant to all. When the eyes of the heart focus on God, and the hands on always washing the feet of Jesus alone--the bones, they sing joy, and the work returns to its purest state: eucharisteo. The work become worship, a liturgy of thankfulness.

And this is exactly what I need in my day--to remember that the work is for God, not for my family.

There is so much more. I could quote this whole book.

Speaking of Isaiah 58:10-11:

It's the fundamental, lavish, radical nature of the upside-down economy of God. Empty to fill... Give your life away in exchange for many lives, give away your blessings to multiply blessings, give away so that many might increase, and do it all for the love of God... Eucharisteo has taught me to trust that there is always enough God... Spend the whole of your one wild and beautiful life investing in many lives, and God simply will not be outdone. God extravagantly pays back everything we give away and exactly in the currency that is not of this world but the one we yearn for: Joy in Him.

Whatever you're doing today, do it for the Lord. She quotes Tagore: "I slept and dreamt life was joy, I awoke and saw life was service, I acted and, behold, service was joy."

One Thousand Gifts - Chapter 8

I'm still being so challenged by this book. Here's the quote that grabbed me this morning.

Anxiety has been my natural posture, my default stiffness. The way I curl my toes up, tight retreat. How I angle my jaw, braced, chisel the brow with the lines of distrust. How I don't fold my hands in prayer...weld them into tight fists of control. Always control--pseudopower from the pit. How I refuse to relinquish worry, babe a mother won't forsake, an identity. Do I hold worry close as this ruse of control, this pretense that I'm the one who will determine the course of events as I stir and churn and ruminate? Worry is the facade of taking action when prayer really is. And stressed, this pitched word that punctuates every conversation, is it really my attempt to prove how indispensable I am? Or is it more? Maybe disguising my deep fears as stress seems braver somehow.

And then a few pages later...

Stress isn't only a joy stealer. The way we respond to it can be sin. I stand in the laundry room looking out at the barn, knowing that stress stands in direct opposition to what He directly, tenderly commands: "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me" (John 14:1 NIV, emphasis added). I know an untroubled heart relaxes, trust, leans assured into His ever-dependable arms. Trust, it's the antithesis of stress. "Oh, the joys of those who trust the Lord" (Psalm 40:4). But how to learn trust like that? Can trust be conjured up simply by sheer will on command? I've got to get this thing, what it means to trust, to gut-believe in the good touch of God toward me, because it's true: I can't fill with joy until I learn how to trust: "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow" (Romans 15:13 NIV, emphasis added). The full life, the one spilling joy and peace, happens only as I come to trust the caress of the Lover, Lover who never burdens His children with shame or self-condemnation but keeps stroking the fears with gentle grace.

Then, to test my resolve, a phone call from my husband this afternoon. He got a phone call from the hotel this afternoon, his second job. Don't come to work tomorrow or Thursday. There's no money to pay him. The Hampton he works for lost its flag (its Hampton-ness) when the original owners lost it for non-payment and the bank sold it to someone else. Until they get the flag back, they are not connected to the Hampton online reservation system and people can't make reservations except by calling them directly. Therefore, they only had 13 rooms sold last night and 15 reserved so far for tonight.

Just when he was actually making enough money for us to live on, something else to worry about. Can I thank God for this? This is HARD!

Why We Homeschool (and Why We Use Sonlight)

Landon had to write an auto-biography for admission to the Burnett Honors College at the University of Central Florida this past spring. He wrote about his education and the people involved in it who influenced the person he is today. When I read it, it summed up why we homeschool our children and why we've used Sonlight all these years. I asked him for permission to use his biography, so here it is:

To get a good understanding of my life and my experiences, it would be best to give a brief exposition of my education and the impact that had on my development and my view of the world. When making her decision to homeschool me and my siblings, my mother learned about various curricula and selected those she believed would be best for us. She poured her time and her effort into our education. Through the curriculum she used, particularly a literature-based history program, she instilled in me a great love of learning. History, largely through this program, was really my first love. I would devour every book I could find on the subject, carrying them around until they were literally falling to pieces. Whenever we traveled, my book bag was always the heaviest. I have always had a general love of reading, and to this day I very rarely go anywhere without a book. In addition to this, she schooled us well in math—which happens to be one of her own strengths—using another excellent program she discovered. Later, she encouraged me to study to take rigorous CLEP tests and then dual enroll in our local community college. Although I did not always enjoy what she assigned to me, I worked through it, and in the last few years, I have seen her hard work truly come to fruition.

My mother was not the only influence on the person I am now. My father also played an important role. All my life he has been willing to listen to me talk about all sorts of crazy ideas and discuss them with me. He has consistently challenged viewpoints or stereotypes I have picked up. He listened to me talk about history, politics, physics, chemistry, a book I was reading at the time, something on the news, or any other topic. He did not just put up with it—he encouraged it. I believe that had a very positive impact on my intellectual development, and his philosophies and outlook have been a huge influence on my own worldview. Discussing ideas is really one of my favorite pastimes. In addition, I have had numerous friends who have contributed in similar ways. One, in particular, I have known many years, and he is now working on his doctorate in Photonics Engineering at North Carolina State University. He has greatly encouraged, inspired, and advised me in matters relating to the fields of engineering and science. Recently, in my dual-enrollment classes, my teachers have also made an impact on me. My physics professor in particular has managed—along with the amazing material we have studied and various other circumstances—to convert me from an engineering major to a physics major. In conclusion, I think more than anything, it is the people in my life and how they have contributed to my outlook that have made me who I am today.

It's music to a homeschool mom's heart!

One Thousand Gifts

After the third friend told me that One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp was a must read, I put it in my queue at the library.

Now I must say that the author is very poetic, which makes this a difficult read for me. I'm more of a "cut-to-the-chase" kind of girl! However, I was hooked by the second chapter when I read this:

"For years of mornings, I have woken wanting to die. Life itself twists into nightmare. For years, I have pulled the covers up over my head, dreading to begin another day I'd be bound to just wreck. Years, I lie listening to the taunt of names ringing off my interior walls, ones from the past that never drifted far and away: Loser, Mess, Failure. They are signs nailed overhead, nailed through me, naming me. The stars are blinking out.

Funny, this. Yesterday morning, the morning before, all these mornings, I wake to the discontent of life in my skin. I wake to self-hatred. To the wrestle to get it all done, the relentless anxiety that I am failing. Always, the failing. I yell at children, fester with bitterness, forget doctor appointments, lose library books, live selfishly, skip prayer, complain, go to bed too late, neglect cleaning the toilets. I live tired. Afraid. Anxious. Weary. Years, I feel it in the veins, the pulsing of ruptured hopes. Would I ever be enough, find enough, do enough? But this morning [she had a nightmare about dying of cancer], I wake wildly wanting to live. Physically feeling it in the veins trembling, the hard pant of the lungs, the seeing it in the steady stars, how much I really want to really live. How I don't want to die. Is that the message of nightmares and dreams? To live either fully alive...or in empty nothingness?

It's the in between that drives us mad.

It's the life in between, the days of walking lifeless, the years calloused and simply going through the hollow motions, the self-protecting by self-distracting, the body never waking, that's lost all capacity to fully feel--this is the life in between that makes us the wild walking dead."

Oh my! I have felt exactly like that. Dreading every day, wanting to pull the covers over my head, calling myself "loser, mess, failure" because I've once again yelled at a child, etc., etc.

Her answer to this is eucharisteo - thanksgiving. This is the Greek word used as "give thanks" in the Luke 22:19: "And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them..." Jesus did this the night before his crucifixion. And he knew what was coming.

Then she quotes Alexander Schmemann in For the Life of the World: Sacraments and Orthodoxy: "The only real fall of man is his noneucharistic life in a noneucharitic world." In her words, "ingratitude was the fall--humanity's discontent with all that God freely gives." OUCH!

And then this part of chapter 3 reaches out to slap me: "Long, I am woman who speaks but one language, the language of the fall--discontentment and self-condemnation, the critical eye and the never satisfied." I had to stop reading there last night because I needed to blog about what I'd read so far.

This morning I started the list. It will be hard for me to get to one thousand.

Read this book!

Carys' Boo Boo

Last Wednesday, July 13, shortly before 6:00pm, Landon and I were in the kitchen starting dinner when we heard Carys start hollering and crying.

I said, "Where are you?" while Chase came barreling out of Landon's room. Carys was in my bedroom standing in front of my vanity mirror.

Chase said, "She's bleeding!" and threw herself dramatically on the floor.

Never one to overreact to blood from the mouth, I picked up Carys and carried her into my bathroom.

"Where are you hurt?"

"My chin!" she sobbed. I bent her head back, took one look at the gash on her chin, grabbed some kleenex to hold to it, and picked her up. She had been running out of my bathroom and slipped and hit her chin on the tile floor.



"We're going to the emergency room," I said, "Get the keys, Landon. You're driving."

I hollered Gerren's name while walking out the door, but there was no response from him. Landon HATES to drive my van because it's a big conversion van and much more difficult to maneuver than Greg's smaller truck. However, I wanted to hold Carys in the back of the van, so he had to drive. He did just fine. I was really proud of him. We repeatedly called Gerren on the way to the ER to get him to turn off the water under the pasta pot. He never answered the phone. Greg ended up having to go home from the hotel (where he was working at his 2nd job) to turn off the stove. I was not happy with Gerren who had his ipod on, I guess!

We went to a hospital near us that supposedly had a 10 minute ER wait. We got there about 6:15 or maybe a little before. Unfortunately, the Quick Care section of the ER was slammed that evening. Although, we were taken back to a room within 10 minutes, it was past 8:30pm before Carys was eventually treated. She got 5 stitches in the 2" long gash. The worst part was the 3 sticks it required to numb the area. After that she was fine.



She looks like she has whiskers! We'll see how it goes getting the stitches out on Monday, but it looks to be healing nicely now. It was past 9:00pm when we got out of there, so needless to say, we drove through McDonald's instead of making dinner at home. It was a LONG day!