Tribute to Nancy

 I had written this in December of 2020 but failed to publish it here, so want to do that now. Like many people, 2020 was a blur and a time of loss of varied kinds. 

Thank you to all the friends and family who came to the visitation and services for my mother-in-law, Nancy. Please continue to pray for the family. November and December usually bring a lot of activity for our family, as many of our birthdays and anniversaries fall from Thanksgiving-time through the New Year (including my wedding anniversary, which is today), so this year will be a time of adjustment. Jay and Nancy would have celebrated their 62^nd wedding anniversary later this month.

Nancy was a gentle and quiet soul. In the years I knew her, I never saw her speak in anger. She once told me that she was often misunderstood because people would mistake her quietness for standoffishness, but those who understood her knew of her kindness. I hope that my children remember this about their grandmother, how patient and calm she was with everyone. She was a thoughtful person, paying attention to small details about people, which I suppose she was good at because she was so quiet.

Nancy was first and foremost a follower of Jesus.  She was also an accomplished pianist and organist, so it is no surprise that she shared that extraordinary talent with her church family for many wonderful years. I feel like playing the organ is an unusual gift and a great one to share.

She developed deep and lasting friendships within her Dorcas group at Sugar Grove Bible Church. These faithful women raised their children and celebrated life’s ups and downs together over the course of several decades.  I have been blessed to know many of these lovely ladies myself. Nancy continued to share her love of Christ as she grew older through devoted service to children’s ministry, Sunday School, and Vacation Bible School, and by caring for the children of a neighbor who were also a part of her church family, all of whom grew to love her deeply. 

Nancy was an expert gardener and member of several gardening groups. Her flower gardens were always beautiful and brought pleasure to many people, including the caretaker herself, who painstakingly planted and tended from spring until fall each year.  She also donated her gardening talents to several charities and gave generously from her gardens to friends and family. I am proud to have many of her flower gifts in my garden, and they will remain a lovely reminder of her each year when they bloom.

Nancy also had an adventurous streak, learning to snow ski as an adult, something she enjoyed with all three of her kids. She skied in Switzerland. She went on annual ski club trips with her son Jeff into her early sixties. She also fought and beat cancer during those years. I saw her as a person who was willing to try new things.

After my mother’s untimely death, Nancy was faithful about asking after me and my dad and patiently listening. Few people reached out to us after our loss, as I suppose many people feel inclined that “they don’t know what to say.” However, Nancy understood that she didn’t need to say anything, just listen. Occasionally she would share a story about her mother, signaling she understood the importance of my loss. She knew that certain deaths create a small space that cannot be completely healed in this life, whether a day or a decade later.

She and my husband Jon shared a little ritual between them around pink flamingos. How it started is a story for another time, but it became a tradition that whenever we were traveling, he would purchase a flamingo souvenir which he would tuck into her flower garden, hide on a shelf, or hang on her Christmas tree. She would discover it later, and they could share a laugh or two.  We had more than one show up within our yard or home as well.  It is stories or traditions like this that tether us to someone after they are gone. I will always think of Nancy when I see a pink flamingo or a pretty flower garden.

Nancy came from a warm and down-to-earth family who quickly welcomed me into their clan. I have fond memories of my first meetings with them and how much “the aunts” doted over me and my children through the years. It has been sad to watch her generation dying off, one by one. I can imagine that Nancy felt that same loss and was looking forward to many reunions.

Nancy’s final year in this life was a difficult one. Early in 2020, memory loss brought about a move to a charming, well-appointed one-bedroom assisted living apartment lovingly decorated by her daughter Jill to recreate as much as the home environment she was leaving. However, we could never have anticipated what was coming with the pandemic and the lockdowns of facilities like hers, nor the rapid deterioration caused by months of isolation and loneliness that would follow. Only a handful of in-person visits, always behind masks at a distance. Brief phone or video calls, peering through a window. Not the best memories for children and grandchildren, and certainly not for her. Later, there was a fall, which so often hastens death in older people.

I wish I could say that Nancy did not suffer. The Apostle Paul wrote in Philippians that he knew how to be both full and hungry, and prosperous and needy, proclaiming that he could do ALL things through Christ. The “all things” he spoke of were these contrasting experiences of good and evil. We cannot understand joy without sadness, but Christ will strengthen us. I am glad that Nancy had that strength.

So, while Nancy departed this life in difficulty, we are comforted to know that her next sight will be the face of Jesus, as well as those she has loved and lost.  We are also glad she is healed and at peace and look forward to our own homecoming with her someday. All the plusses and minuses considered, hers was a life well-lived.

 

Emotional Boundaries - Do We Need a Wall?

Back before kids, I had a career. I worked with broken people. One of the things we often spoke about were boundaries.

All this talk in the political arena about "building a wall."  What about the walls that protect our mental health?  What are emotional walls and how do we defend them?

Assertive, passive or aggressive behavior is how we go about getting our needs met in relation to the others--and thus establishing mental, emotional, and spiritual boundaries. 

Boundaries are often established in our family of origin and they can be difficult to define. let alone change.  Basically, they are an understanding that I am not you.  They can be manifest emotionally when I feel responsible for you—like when mom gets embarrassed by the behavior of a child who has his own will.  They can also be manifest in the understanding or lack of understanding that it’s okay to be different and not value the same things—like someone who thinks all people should own dogs and cat people are strange.

Regardless of where you fall, behaviorally, we defend or deny those boundaries every day through our through assertive or nonassertive behavior.

Which do you think you are?

Assertive people tend to be able to make their needs or wishes known clearly but will accept a “no” for an answer, and the give and take of occasionally yielding to others’ needs.
Aggressive people can also make their needs or wishes known but tend to struggle with disregarding the needs of others. They place their needs first.

Passive people tend to do the opposite. They place the needs of others above their own, sometimes becoming accustomed to not having any expectations at all.

Here’s how it might play out:

Three people want to go to dinner. Assertive Bert would like Chinese, but if the group picks something else he won’t mind, knowing he might get to pick the restaurant the next time.

Aggressive Ned wants Italian. Ned isn’t interested in what the others want, so he presses for his restaurant until the others agree. Passive Lenny would like Mexican, but once he hears the others want something different, he says nothing and just goes along with the crowd.

Wait! Did I forget to mention there’s a fourth type?

In comes Passive Aggressive Peter. Peter wants to try a new 24-hour Deli, but they have already settled on Italian. He agrees. They set a time to meet, but Peter shows up late, so they miss their reservation. Then he suggests the Deli. If he’s more practiced, he might instead tell the group what a rough week he has had, and how he was really looking forward to a deluxe cheesesteak sandwich to make it all better, but he understands, they have already picked Italian, without him. He will wait for someone who feels badly to suggest the Deli and he will cheerfully agree.

Passive Aggressive people are aggressive people disguised as passive. Passive Aggressive people seem to be easy going on the surface because they go along, but they use manipulation, guilt, subtle shaming or any number of other techniques to trick people into doing what they want.

Passive Aggressivity is particularly problematic because while the Aggressive person is obvious about placing their needs first, the Passive Aggressive person is accomplishing the same thing by covert means. Another difficulty with Passive Aggressive behavior is that it is difficult to confront. When someone is being Aggressive, you can point it out, sometimes reason with them. Often people don’t realize they are being manipulated by a Passive Aggressive person until later when they feel played. It is quite difficult to address because it is always disguised.

It is also important to consider that narcissism and passive aggressiveness tend to be associated. The passive aggressive person is self-focused and genuinely sees no problem with his or her behavior. In fact, they often see themselves as peacekeepers and play the martyr role when someone confronts them with their behavior.

This is a prevalent behavior in dysfunctional families. Family members do not possess the proper tools to defend their needs and often it is because the parents have set up a win-lose mentality on most things. It can be borne of families with narcissistic parents as well.

As an aside, Type A narcissists tend to be aggressive in-your-face types, while Type B narcissists tend to be passive aggressive and fine sitting back and being superior.

We are all capable of each of these behaviors.

I have found myself being passive then resentful later. I have been aggressive when I felt threatened. I have acted passive-aggressively when faced with people who wouldn’t listen or compromise.

I think this is particularly important to all people because it plays out in every aspect of our lives.  People with clear boundaries tend to be happier, have stronger relationships, and are less likely to struggle with depression and anxiety.

People who establish clear boundaries still get played, and my experience is that some people will push as far across the line as they can get away with but knowing this and being emotionally prepared to address it make a big difference. 

Each of us needs to know who we are as individuals outside our roles as employees, students, spouses, parents, siblings or friends.  You need to establish what belongs in each role and what doesn't and make sure you don't let people invade your personal space.

You also need to acknowledge that everyone is different, and that is okay.  What I value, you may not. Healthy boundaries mean I can let you be you and I am okay being myself as well.  If everyone were alike, only did what pleased themselves, and never got exposed to new ideas or unique people, the world would be quite boring indeed.I hope you will think about these things.  It takes time, but being surrounded by healthy, loving people makes a difference.  Life can be messy.  It’s so much easier getting through it together.

Speaking the Truth in Love

“Love without truth is sentimentality; truth without love is harshness” – C.S. Lewis

I came across this quote recently, and it resonated deeply with me, mainly because I am observing that our culture appears to be losing not only its understanding in matters of truth, but its desire for genuine and brotherly love.

On the one hand, if we love someone but are never fully honest with them, what do we end up with?  As Lewis says, it is mere sentiment—a shallow relationship at best.  While this is emotionally safe, because it avoids conflict, it also eliminates the possibility of any meaningful intimacy. There is a level of trust involved in authentic conversation that cannot take place when we consistently “play it safe.”

Notice that I did not say, “give your opinion.”  There is a distinction.  Plenty of people hold no quarter to raining their opinions freely upon everyone—regardless of it being wanted.  Good manners mean no unsolicited advice.  This is tricky territory in the age of social networking, where trolling and opinion sharing are the modus operandi.  But in that setting, opinions are expected; if you are easily offended, it is guaranteed you will be.  The good news is—just like this opinion piece—you can close your browser and move on.

The problem is nearly always the gap between fact and opinion, a disparity which is unmistakable in this current heated political climate.  When we share an idea, we must carefully consider, with all intellectual honesty, if what we are about to say, or not say, is a matter of fact, or our personal perception.  This is increasingly difficult in an age where fewer people have a final authority, such as a faith, or any objective philosophy, and therefore act according to their individual reality. It also creates a broader grey area—that gap between right and wrong, opinion and fact.

But some truths are self-evident, are they not? As a Christian, that especially pertains to the greatest commandment, which is loving one another. For us, instructions about speaking the truth in love abound in scripture, but the most important truth we are called to speak is the truth about sin—that it has separated us from our Creator—and how we can be reconciled through His gift of life.  Sharing the Gospel of the Good News of Jesus Christ is the most loving act that a Christian is called to do.  It is true, some will be offended.  Do it anyway.

On the other hand, if we speak our truth, and we are not sincerely motivated in love, what do we accomplish? Harshness. I tell my children frequently that being right is a lonely place. If the truth takes priority over the relationship, there may be no relationship. Honestly, what good is it to know the truth, but use it in a way to hurt others? And how much satisfaction comes from being right if there is no one to share it with?

However, one of the saddest results of political correctness has become our utter disinterest in growth or change. If we love one another, we should genuinely desire to challenge each other be better people.  For example, would you step up and tell a friend if he was doing something wrong, whether it be illegal, immoral or otherwise? Have we become so afraid to offend that we can no longer hold each other to higher standards?  Does the risk of upsetting another person now take precedence over loving them enough to tell them the truth? 

I can remember times when people affronted me with their truth, just as I recall those pivotal moments when someone risked wounding me to push me to do better—and I am grateful.  Had they not been willing to point out a blind spot, I may have taken an entirely different course in life.  And if we are being honest, even if someone tells us a truth we don’t like or disagree with, we know if it is coming from a place of love and respect.  People just know.

So I ask you this:  Are we forfeiting our humanity to meaningless relation?  In the age of selfies and over-stuffed schedules that are implemented at light-speed, have we forgotten the value of an actual hug and kiss?  Do we cautiously tip-toe around each other, but with no real or meaningful connection?  Do we tread upon our fellow man with vigor via social networking, but without regard to the living, breathing soul on the receiving end?

This is also a huge pet peeve I have with the church.  Some have gone the path of never speaking anything that might offend—and so they stand for virtually nothing.  They keep the pews full, but no one grows.  Contrariwise, some have gone to the other extreme, and their haughtiness and self-righteousness has made us all look mean spirited and hypocritical.  In that way, I fear we have become ineffective and often misunderstood.

My grandmother used to have a sign hanging in her kitchen that said, “Old Indian Proverb—Judge no man until you have walked a mile in his moccasins.”  I loved that saying, and it reminds me that it is in the knowing of a person—the relationship—that we can discern how to help or not help him, because we first understand him.

So, today I challenge you to consider the same.  Risk taking your relationships to a new place—where respect and trust resonate.  Get to know the people around you better.  Love them.  Speak your truth.  Listen to their truth.  Leave your righteousness and harshness behind. 

We have nothing to lose and everything to gain.  Grace and Peace to you.

A Call to the Classics

It is not unusual to hear a homeschooling mother state that she is redeeming her own education while schooling her children. This has been true for me as well.  While I would say that I received an adequate secondary education, I credit the lion share of my academic success to an early love of reading, sparked by my mother, and later an appreciation for lifelong learning, kindled by my grandmother.  This is one of the key reasons why I chose to homeschool, and specifically why I chose the Classical Model of education.

Lately, my desire to redeem my education has been expressed in a renewed interest in poetry and literature.  The art of both storytelling and wordsmithing held an early fascination for me.  Like most children, I loved animals, climbing trees and riding bikes, but I rarely let a day pass without spending time in a book, which inspired me to write more as well. The adventures that I couldn’t achieve in real life I could experience in a book.   

This morning, I found myself rereading The Rime of the Ancient Mariner—this poem is credited for the figure of speech “wearing an albatross around your neck”—which kicked off some thoughts about our reading choices.

The power of language is evident in every culture and every age, but as a classical educator—a classical Christian educator—I acknowledge this more so:  God spoke the world into existence, Jesus was the Word made flesh, and God placed His Word above His own name.  Words not only matter, they are key to wisdom.  I’ve heard it suggested that any reading is valuable reading. To me this is like saying it doesn’t matter what you eat as long as you are eating something.

If food feeds the body, then words feed the mind & soul.  We could, in theory, live on a diet of fast food, but the effects would eventually show up in poor health.  So a steady diet of dime store novels will not produce the same benefits as wisdom saturated literature.  While I confess to having read every mystery by Sidney Sheldon, I still consider it chips and soda pop, whereas the symbolism of Nathanial Hawthorne I regard as steak and a salad.  If the pen really is mightier than the sword, then without a powerful command of our own language, our greatest weapon could become a dull and useless instrument in our hands.

Over the last decade, we have observed an alarming trend where the average conversation includes a generous seasoning of “likes” and “you knows,” and our best communicators’ speeches are riddled with more “ums” than adjectives.  It raises the question, “Has the art and beauty of language completely given way to text-speak and you tube video blogs?” 

Perhaps a greater emphasis on language would solve this problem, but while great works of poetry and story-telling do build comprehension and vocabulary skills, they are not just about the mastery of text.  Good books nurture principle and character, propagate moral appetite, challenge our beliefs and influence our manners.  This is because great books are more than stories—the classic stories are inherently moral in their world view. Great works nourish a Godly world view, which is the heartbeat of a classical education.

It is through words on a page—great stories—that we peel the onion of life, those daily pleasures and pains that are common to all men.  Writers help us place order to some of the most intricate puzzle pieces of grief, joy, betrayal, bravery, loyalty and a host of other traits of humanness.  Together, in these marvelously bound volumes, we can pause to consider how we might react in a similar situation, learn from another’s reaction or dilemma, and dig deeper into the great human experience, while encountering the rich depth and complexity of the English language.  In fact, one of the many reasons why I still prefer reading the King James version of the Bible is because of the structure of its poetic speech and its great poetic beauty.   

School is back in session at my house, and I am looking forward to uncovering more great works to share with my children.  However, discovering these great masterpieces is increasingly difficult in an age where juvenile fiction is dominated by titles like Captain Underpants, a favorite of progressive educators who offer dumbed down books as a solution to reluctant readers. A commitment to quality literature is just that, and we may have to be diligent in our search for the stories that speak to the heart and stretch the imagination of our young people.

Do you recall the stories that shaped your early years?  For me it was The Tales of the Fourth Grade Nothing that gave me the nickname Boing-Boing.  It was The Lord of the Flies that introduced me to man’s inhumanity to man and the concept that within the natural man dwells no good thing.  The good things—like mercy—come from God.  This I learned from the Holy Bible. There was A Wrinkle in Time with its classic battle between good and evil. Later, there was To Kill and Mockingbird and its complex viewpoints about dignity, racism, and justice, or The Old Man and the Sea which on the surface seemed to be about the war between man and nature, but just underneath we experienced the power and resilience of the human spirit, along with the notion that death doesn’t necessarily equal defeat.

As educators, the classics offer us not only strong language skills, but they strengthen our imagination while infecting us with an appetite for meaning and significance in this life.  It’s never too soon to begin reading these great works—we don’t have to wait until our children are old enough to read—we can share them now through reading-aloud to them.  Many excellent discussions have followed our out-loud reading time.

Sitting with an old classic and a cup of coffee will always be one of my favorite intellectual and inspirational endeavors.  The difference now is that I get the joy of sharing these classics with my children.  Together we can embark on a passage into the ages.  I encourage you to do the same: it will be the journey of a lifetime.

Self-Esteem Building

I have been giving a lot of thought to the idea of self-esteem. The older my children get, the more I hear mention of it. I hear about parents who want to assure their children have the proper amount of it, that is. In considering the meaning of true self-esteem, I first look back to my own childhood. I do not recall ever hearing a term like this mentioned as I was growing up. As a matter of fact, it seems to me that parents were more concerned about us getting "too big for our britches" and knowing our place than they were about us thinking even more of ourselves than we already did. So, as I continue to ponder this notion, I must ask, "What saith the scriptures?"

It turns out that the scripture instructs us to esteem others. No mention of needing to think more highly of ourselves, other than we shouldn't (Rom 12:3). The Word instructs us to esteem others greater than ourselves (Phil 2:3), and to esteem those doing the work of the ministry for their labors (I Thes 5:13). This tells me two things. First, if we are asked to esteem others, then it must not come naturally. Second, esteem should be based on something tangible, such as work.

These two points are important for this reason: our culture has forgotten that people (children) naturally see themselves as the center of the universe, and without any training whatsoever, will naturally esteem themselves over others, and, that praise should be reserved for actual accomplishments. This is an important distinction to me.

While this idea of giving both teams a trophy was designed to spare the losing team the pain of defeat at a tender age, it has really stolen from the victor the feeling of triumph. I suppose as a parent I am expected to continuously tell my children that they are awesome, for fear that they will begin to feel bad about themselves, and become unhappy in life. And this might compensate for the fact that all competition has been removed from their lives in favor of political correctness.

To me, this really cheapens those real moments when the child masters the difficult, faces their fears, pitches in without being asked, rises to the moment, and has every right to experience a moment of pride. I am a believer of praise. I love to encourage my children. I don't however, think I need to bolster my children's self-esteem with any additional accolades, other than the ones they earn.

Shouldn't true self-esteem be the result of actually accomplishing something? And shouldn't our identity as Christians be the result of placing someone else above ourselves and experiencing the fullness that this act produces in our hearts? Do you remember a time in your life when you really felt good about yourself? It was always related to somthing tangible that you had achieved. Do you think that it would have been as powerful a moment for you if you had not really earned it? This is what I think happens when parents falsely pump up their children with excessive praise in an attempt to "make them like themselves."

I can tell my kids all day long that they are the most amazing, awesome, incredible humans that ever walked, but what kind of narcissism will that produce? In truth, sometimes we are shameful examples of people, and measured shame is healthy. We are supposed to approach others with lowliness of mind! (Eph 4:2) This means, we are humble, and we place their needs above our own. The end result of that loving act is a joy and satisfaction that surpasses worldly self-esteem ten fold.

I challenge each of you today to consider the concept of self-esteem, and whether you have bought in to the psychology of "self-like" when it comes to your children, or even yourself. As adults, sometimes we feel as though life has beat us up. This seems more true the older we get and the more experiences (and traumas) we have to endure in life. God tells us that if we truly wish to feel better about ourselves, then we need to get out there and do something for someone else. Our children are watching. They will learn to do the same! What an excellent esteem builder that is.

Grace & Peace, Angie

Lessons from Joseph - How to Grieve

Yesterday I was busy cleaning out my email folder because I got a notice that said it was getting a bit stuffed. Since my account is set up to keep a copy of all sent messages, I first went there and selected all the files and deleted them. Seeing that this didn’t change my file usage any, I realized that I now had to go to my deleted file folder and officially delete them forever. Just as I was paging through them I noticed a big gap in time and some messages from a couple of years ago at the end. It suddenly occurred to me what I had done: I had deleted the last correspondence between my Mom and myself just before she died; messages that I had intentionally left in tact in prior clean-up sessions. Knowing now what I had done, I paged through them, read them one last time, and let them go, as the tears poured down my checks and soaked the front of my shirt.

That evening as I was reading to my children, our Bible story was about Joseph at the time when Jacob and the rest of the family had come to reside in Egypt during the long years of famine. Jacob’s dying wish had been to be buried with his ancestors (Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, Rebekah, and Leah) in a cave that was in the land where God had led them; the land of Canaan. Joseph enquired with the Pharaoh, received permission, and formed a caravan to take his father to the tomb in their homeland as promised.

The embalming of Jacob took 40 days. This Egyptian method of embalming was slow, but effective. After the embalming, there was another 70 days of mourning. Then the caravan transported him to his burial tomb (no telling how long this took), and still Joseph took another 7 days to stop and mourn for his father in his homeland before returning to Egypt. In all, it would likely have taken several months, start to finish. I found this quite interesting. And a far cry from how we say goodbye to loved ones these days! I daresay that our Creator has a better handle on what would constitute ‘bereavement’ than our modern and so-called advanced cultures do. Anyone who has suffered a great loss can tell you that the opportunities to grieve are quite insufficient in this fast-paced, over-scheduled, high stress, society of ours!

I am left to ponder these thoughts within myself. Grief happens in stages, and it can be very slow. I wonder if we were ever allowed to fully embrace it--like Joseph did--if in the long run it wouldn’t have been a shorter, and more healing, way to do it.

~Grace and Peace

Religion & Politics

It is a commonly repeated phrase, "Two things I never discuss: religion and politics." I was thinking about this the other day, and wondering, is this a 'new' or modern viewpoint or has it always been customary to avoid these topics in public conversation? Being a sociologist by both trade and hobby, I had to examine this phenomenon. Turns out, discussion of religion and politics is a fairly new faux pas. Ah, yes, what was I thinking? Political correctness! Whereas it used to be customary for people to share different positions on God and the State, now it is inappropriate and untactful in nearly every setting.

Ancient civilizations all over the globe considered debate essential to the human condition. Education in logic (not mathematical logic, but critical thinking in a broader sense) began in late primary years, and was followed by extensive education in the grammar of Rhetoric, what some would call speech or debate today. Great minds would meet in the public square and reason their ideas for hours. Theologians would gather in the temple and reason from the scriptures for days. Philosophers would wonder from town to town teaching in the streets their ideas, asking peoples to consider new thoughts and ideas, and what shaped them.

This begs the question, how does one ever get to fully develop a viewpoint if they are never to hear any differing ones? I do know some exceptional humans who make a point of exploring various spiritual and political perspectives, but in all honesty, they are a rare exception. Most of us gather our opinions and life view from our parents. As we grow, school becomes our largest influence, and we may garner some additional ideas from our friends. While employers may have some influence, college probably has the largest and most powerful impact on our perspective. Certainly this was my experience. And it is disconcerting for me, as colleges in America are the most liberal institutions in the world. Even the reading has been dumbed down, modified to avoid offending certain peoples, scrubbed of ideas that go against the single-minded viewpoint of the establishment. The professors are unabashed about their intolerance of the traditional, conservative foundations upon which this nation was laid. I was young enough in college that I simply accepted their point of view as fact, and rarely thought more about it. Later, as I matured, I began to hear about and learn other ideas.

My fear as I observe our cultural changes is that my children won't have any opportunity to enter into a debate of ideas because it is no longer acceptable to debate. And since our culture is quickly moving away from any concept of God or faith, the only viewpoint left will be man's viewpoint. Given enough time, the 'polite' method of avoiding politics and religion in any discussion will ensure that not one more human being will get to hear about Jesus Christ and the gift He gave the world with His death. Additionally, anyone who would like to learn about our country's grand heritage of say, The Constitution, would likely be called a dinosaur or an intolerant for straying from the popular viewpoint.

Hmmmm. I want to be optimistic about our future. I would prefer to rejoice in considering the countless joys awaiting the next generation. As I teach my children and prepare them for the Great Conversation, I wonder, "Is that conversation over?" As I watch our economy crumble, our moral fiber disintegrate, and our characters weaken, I cannot help but speculate. The Law of Entropy, the Second Law of Thermodynamics, simply stated, is that things become more disordered over time, unless acted upon by another, more powerful force. We have become passive participants in our political and religious life. Therefore, if nothing is done, chaos is inevitable.

So the next time you see me at a social gathering, don't be surprised if I say, "You'd like to discuss politics and religion? Why of course!"

Who created the universe?

Lately, because I am actively educating my children, the science of creation versus evolution comes up frequently. In looking at online reviews of books and documentaries, I am amazed at how incredibly offended people are by the idea that GOD might have done this whole thing! I used to get bent out of shape and try to 'show' people the other side of things, but I have come to realize some important facts in this debate.

For one, you can't discuss matters of faith with someone who has no faith, or rather, has placed their faith in the wisdom of men. I find it absurd that people find it easier to believe that the universe created itself from nothing rather than believing that God did it. Is the idea of a God really that great of an offense? Really? For some, it is. And they find it absurd that I would place my faith in God, or rather the Word of God. I have chosen to believe, by faith, that God created the universe and that same God, having the ability to create the Universe, also has the ability to preserve His words in a book on which I depend.

There is much science to support intelligent design, but again, people believe what they want to believe. It is a matter of faith. Have you placed your faith in the Word of God, or in the Word of Men? Its really that simple. I was educated by government school evolutionists. Late in life, as I was exposed to creation science, I found it rather easy to compare the science and choose creationism, hands down, even coming in with the bias of having believed in evolution as truth in fact from my youth.

I was educated in the same system that essentially has blacklisted creationist viewpoint and so creation was never offered to me as an option. Today I feel that if a belief system cannot hold up to an opposing viewpoint, then it must not be particularly strong. And evolution, like creationism, is a viewpoint, because it cannot be scientifically removed from 'theory' status. Again, one is man's viewpoint, and the other is God's viewpoint. As I educate my children, I am not afraid to show them the viewpoints of the 'other' side because I have confidence that truth always prevails. We watch a lot of Discovery channel, Science channel or National Geographic, and all of it teaches evolution. My children have often noticed the leaping assumptions evolutionists make when presenting their observations.

Just like Darwin when he brought his finches back from the Galapagos Islands, showing how their 'changing' beaks were evidence of evolution. Today the scientists observe that the finches have different beaks every year, depending on the weather. Sometimes thicker, sometimes thinner. Darwin was not there long enough to collect sufficient data to be accurate. Yet scientists cling to his assumptions formed with incomplete data because that is what they WANT to believe.

Now as I study more, I see the real issue. Scripture explains it best: their eyes won't see and their foolish hearts are darkened. The God of the Bible, Jesus Christ, is where I have chosen to place my faith. I am told that He will make the wise into fools and the foolish wise. For this reason, I feel less inclined to debate creation versus evolution, because I figure He can set things straight better than I ever could. I am kinda looking forward to that day.

Grace and Peace.

Finding myself content in all things

It has been a very busy year. It has been a year of weeping and a year of healing. Not just emotionally, but physically. After a long health struggle, the worst seems to be behind me. I sure hope so! I have been blessed by a team of doctors that has been willing to work with me and get this under control naturally. And I feel terrific! Add to that the fact that I have met some amazing homeschooling Moms this past year, and life couldn't be better. I am inspired by them! Most of them have very large families, and here I am with just my two. How can I complain? I have learned much and I have a renewed interest in really doing this right. When people ask me why I home school, well I have a long list of reasons, but the real purpose is simple, and thus my new mission statement: God gave the job of rearing Godly children to me and my husband, not to the state or any other institution. I am raising them to be the people God wants them to be: ambassadors for Christ. I am building two tabernacles. I may not see the fruit of my work in my lifetime, but daily I build, with careful attention to every detail, because although I may not see the results, and others may not see my efforts, God does. For this, I am thankful.

Saying Goodbye to My Friend Ashley

Last week one of my dear friends went home to be with the Lord. Her name is Ashley Hofele, and here is her obituary:

Ashley Elizabeth Wilson Hofele

Ashley was a most amazing friend and human being. My husband had known Jesse for some years, but we didn't know much about his new wife. I had only spoken to her a few times before I attended a party at her home. I liked her right away. Later that night, after the party, my Mother died unexpectedly. As soon as Ashley heard, she called me to see what I needed. I had to travel out of state to help my Father with arrangements. I asked Ashley if she would look in on my husband Jon who had to take a quick leave from work and stay home with our children, who had just turned 3 and 5. She called several women from church and arranged for meals to be brought to him while I was gone. She even called Jon while I was gone to see if she could help in any other way.

In addition to losing my Mother suddenly, my aunt was dying of cancer. Ashley was concerned for me, and checked in on me often. It was the lowest time in my life. She would send inspiring poems or songs through email, or call to see if I needed to talk. She would offer to watch my children when I needed to visit my aunt. We seemed to be instant friends and grew closer and closer over the next year. Ashley gave me a lot of support, strength and comfort when I really needed it. I knew that Ashley did not have a lot of life experience, but when it came to compassion, she really seemed wise beyond her years.

Ashley had a quick and gorgeous smile, an easy laugh, and I enjoyed her immensely. We began a Bible study together and discussed serious issues related to ambassadorship, life, death, and illness. I always said Ashley was a 'Berean.' In the Bible, it was the Bereans that searched the scriptures to find answers to life's questions. Ashley certainly had a lot of questions, and she had a real reverence for the Word of God. If she was struggling with an issue, we studied it out in scripture. If the Bible proclaimed it, then it was settled for her.

Ashley had such a mature attitude about having Lupus, a chronic illness, and said that she had come to accept that she had to approach life differently now. Ashley had a wonderful understanding of her position in Christ and knew that by suffering in dignity she was honoring her savior. I knew that Ashley was suffering, but it wasn't because she complained. I tried to get her to slow down, but she was determined to do what her heart lead her to do...she had a heart for service and love of God that I often admired.

Ashley always spoke highly of her husband and family. She didn't like it when people complained or spoke negatively about the people they loved. She was completely devoted to Joshua. To this day, I cannot figure out how she got so much done and still managed to stay connected to her friends and family on a regular basis! I thought of Ashley like a sister. I can only pray that she really knew how much I respected and cared for her. I still love her!

I wonder if people will think I am exaggerating about what a wonderful person Ashley is now that she is gone? On my kids birthdays this year, she really went out of her way to get them something they would enjoy. And Reese made it hard on her. He wanted a toy fork lift. But she found the perfect gifts and I could really tell my kids appreciated her kindness and felt special when she and Joshua brought them over. Reese actually sleeps with his forklift. Aubrey got an Ariel doll, which of course she sleeps with too, and the Ariel 2 movie. We watched the movie today, and it explains how Ariel's Mother died, and then the King forgot happiness. But the persistent love of his friends and daughter helped him find happiness again. I had no idea this was the story. I wept. Right now, all things will remind me of this loss. As if I need any reminders.

I often encouraged Ashley to take better care of herself. “Get more rest!” I would urge. But nothing could stop her. She had absolutely the most energy of anyone I knew, especially someone with a chronic illness and undergoing immunosuppressive treatment. Ashley often had insomnia, something we had in common. I would be up late, surfing the net, when an instant message would pop up from Ash. “What are you doing up?” I would ask. “Go to bed!” “Oh, you’re one to talk.” She would respond. “Want to take a walk at the reserve tomorrow?” I am missing those requests already. That fabulous “Hiiiiii” greeting on the telephone each day.

What am I going to do without her? If it weren’t for God, I don’t know how I could bear it. Every time I think about her, I feel like I can barely breathe. I think of her devoted husband, her darling son. The unfairness of this life. I think about our last conversation. Just a couple days before she left us. I was on my way out of town to a homeschool convention. Laughing and making plans to meet at her Mom’s new house the next week. Two calls actually…sometimes she would “remember” why she called the first time and call back because we talked so much she had forgotten what it was. I’m going to miss her so much!

Sometimes Ashley would get emotional, but even when her feelings were hurt or she felt offended, she was eager to forgive, and make peace. She wanted to think the best of people. Ashley didn't put up with a lot of nonsense, yet she could be as soft and fragile and as easily bruised as a rose blossom. I’d always tell her “you’re a great person, don’t worry about the little things people say, they don’t know any better anyway.” She’d say “OK. I’ll just pray for them.” Wow! Like her Bible study, Ashley used prayer to grow in her relationship with God and with others, and it showed. She was hungry for growth and it came.

But then Ashley knew that she had something very special: eternal life. Ashley had trusted Jesus Christ for her eternal salvation and she wanted to walk worthy of her gift and share it with everyone who would listen. It is my prayer that her son will grow up and serve our savior, just as his Mother did. In my opinion, Ashley did an amazing thing, something many of us hope to do, but often fall short: she left her world better than she found it.

No April Foolin'

The other day my daughter and I were reading one of her story books about opposites: over and under, off and on, and this sort of thing. Then we get to the page where there are four clowns. She points to the tall one and says “That’s Daddy.”
“That’s nice.” I reply.
Then she points to the short one and says “That’s me.”
“Which one am I?” I ask. Then she points to the fat one. (I guess its not PC to say 'fat' anymore...the 'larger' one?)

Well, how about that? This child whom I adore, who I sacrificed health, independence and sometimes sanity for, has struck a blow deep into my core. So I look at her lovingly and move on to the next page.

Anyone who says that you have children to complete yourself, or fill a void, really doesn’t understand parenthood at all. Children are painfully candid and innocently honest. Someone without a strong sense of themselves might find themselves unnecessarily wounded by statements like, “Mommy, why do you have a mustache?” or “Did they have trees when you were little back in the olden days?”

Having children is the single event most challenging to our egos. Anyone who has them knows. And they will tell anything to anyone at anytime, mostly at the wrong time. Like when my friend’s son, who I had referred to as my “best friend”, said “Mom, I thought you said Lisa was your best friend?” Ouch. Well, my parents never said life was easy. I didn’t realize they were speaking out of the new wisdom that came with parenthood (I had probably just exposed something they said just before this revelation).

Well, we keep telling them that honesty is the best policy. And they are a frank reminder that those little white lies serve an important purpose. Life is full of embarrassment, especially at the hand of our children. But it’s all worth it. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Honest.

Please stop bringing up the "s" word!

As a homeschooling family, one word that people constantly bring up to us is “socialization.” As if the fact that we are educating our children means that we are completely out of contact with civilization, while in fact most home school families I know have lives rich with outside activities. I actually had one friend who used the example of a home schooled child she knew who was a tattle tale. This was comical to me. Apparently, prior to homeschooling, telling on other children simply didn’t exist, and so any character flaw that a child displays is immediately ascribed to the fact they are home schooled. I guess children in government school don’t have any flaws. In my observation, all children seem to have innate character differences right from birth. Some children seem shy, some outgoing, some children are clingy, and some are independent. The fact that children are individual with differing personalities (and flaws) doesn’t even come to mind when people are trying to convince me that my children will have poor social abilities if I educate them myself.

I have a completely different take on what positive social skills look like. In fact, I find that our children have improved social opportunities. One difference that I see in public schools is that children who are different from the majority are ridiculed for their individuality. Bullying is back on the upswing. If you are a shy person by nature, you better change, or expect to be cast out for the balance of your school years. Another big difference is the ability to socialize with different ages groups. Public school kids are grouped by age and those groupings encourage kids to avoid other children, especially younger ones. In my home schooling circles, the older kids nurture and look out after the younger ones. They don’t say “ooh, yuck, don’t play with the little kids!” like you see on the public school playground. Also, because my children are always with me or another adult (in public school children have sizable blocks of unsupervised time where they are being negatively socialized by other kids), I have not had to drill “stranger danger” into them. When we are out in public, my son, who tends to be shy by nature, is friendly to everyone he sees. He is careful with younger children in the nursery at church. He is not afraid of older children on the playground.

An ironic side to the argument people make about me needing public school to properly socialize my kids, is that these same parents chronicle for me the list of issues the school is currently dealing with regarding, teen pregnancy, drug use, and violence. They tell me how their child learned their first dirty word in Kindergarten from one of the older kids, and then try to convince me I need the school system to properly socialize my children? In truth, the social reality defined by the culture of our schools is in conflict with our Christian values. Negative peer pressure surrounding materialism (designer clothes and cell phones at age 7), and the complete intolerance of anyone who is different are in direct conflict with those values. The school itself perpetuates those values. I mean, the one-size-fits-all curriculum itself is designed to work for the people who fall in the middle. If you are stronger or weaker, you will stand out, and you may fail if you don’t conform. I understand there is no other way for schools to address the issue, there is one teacher and 30 kids and they have designed a program that works for most.

The other socialization case people make for public schools is the idea that they are not being prepared for the real world. Another concept I find entertaining, unless of course the real world is run like “The Lord of the Flies.” The one thing I remember most about entering the work force is how completely different it was from my school years. All of my peers were different ages and backgrounds. There was no bullying, name calling or making fun of the top performers. We treated each other with respect, and individuality was equated with creativity and therefore encouraged. We also never snuck away to use drugs or drink on the job or hide in the bathroom to perform sexual acts on each other. We did not disrespect the boss and there was no peer pressure to do the wrong thing (“come on, try it!”), but there was a lot of pressure to be honest, work hard, and get along with others. A very similar environment to my classroom at home, and the interactions we have with other homeschooling families.

So if you are concerned about socialization as an issue for my children when I chose to home school, rest assured, so was I. And please, stop saying the “s” word around my children.

To The Invisible Moms

I received this essay in an email and I liked it so much I decided to post it here in my blog:

Invisible Mother......

It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?' Obviously, not. No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible. The Invisible Mom, that's me. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this?

Some days I'm not a pair of hands....I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.' I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going; she's going; she is gone!

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.'

It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription:'To Charlotte , with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.'

In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work.....No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of GOD saw everything.

A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.' And the workman replied, 'Because GOD sees.'

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. I became aware of GOD's whisper to me, 'I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.'

At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride.

I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.

When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, 'you're gonna love it there.'

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot see if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.

Share this with all the Invisible Moms you know. Hope this encourages you when the going gets tough as it sometimes does. We never know what our finished products will turn out to be because of our perseverance and dependence upon GOD's written word.

A Degree in Parenting

Did I spend long hours and countless dollars earning a college degree to prepare for making homemade baby food?  Did I spend weeks, months, and years studying statistics, psychotropic medicines, and 19th-century American poets so I could read Goodnight Moon a thousand times to a two-year-old?  Did I work fifteen years, trudging my way to management so I could negotiate potty time with a power-hungry toddler?  Did I walk away from a salary, title, and freedom to wipe sticky noses?

Turns out I did.  Seminars on Dealing with Difficult People are perfectly suited to the stubborn toddler. Sharp organization skills make for an efficient home. I don’t budget millions of dollars or compete for high-dollar contracts anymore, but I stay on top of the family checkbook and clip a few coupons these days.  Hours of research I did on breastfeeding, nutrition, childhood sleep patterns, vaccinations, and infant brain development remind me of late hours at the office with the cleaning crew giving funny looks because I was interfering with their routine of privacy.

My husband is CEO and I’m the Operations Manager and our board of directors consists of God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Accountabilities are high!  Countless experiences firing incompetent staff, however, seem very appealing when the family is not cooperating with my 5-year plan.  But then again, they can’t fire me either!

I used to dream about quitting my job to be a stay-at-home mother.  I envisioned a perfectly weeded garden stocked with cucumbers, carrots, and squash.  Me in a floppy hat picking fresh green beans. My “young’uns” playing in the sunshine nearby.  Then I would wake up and look around at my friends.  Many of them had aged rapidly since the onset of parenthood.  Then I began to get scared and wondered who I would be if I wasn’t “Director of So and So” anymore.

My husband reassured me that I would be an excellent Mother.  This is why he married me, he said.  I wasn’t so sure.  Men usually get to add Father to their resume without giving up the old titles.  Other women tell me that while motherhood may require you give up the titles, you get to keep all the jobs.  And eventually, you learn to live with the fatigue.

So here I am, President of Home.  It’s just like when I first entered the workforce and I had so much to learn.  It’s exactly like that.  I’m starting over.  Well, now that I’ve figured that out I feel so much better.  I hope my family can survive the training period.  I’ve heard it could last well over 18 years!

The Autumn of My Year

It is starting to feel like the end of Summer now. The cicadas sing their shrill music in the tree tops, vibrating in synchronized melody. It feels like I have been sleep walking through most of this year. First with my Mother's sudden death, then my Aunt's longer passage. So I take a breath, lean my shoulders forward and push into the next years of my life, changed by the experience but determined to live well in the time I have with my own children.

Autumn seems to be as good a time as any to put some things to rest. There has been time to cry, pray, and remember. Now I lift my eyes and look forward. I cannot see what is ahead. None of us can! But I have hope. Hope that is seen is not hope. We walk by faith, not by sight.

I started this blog because I love to write. But mostly I love to write satire. I prefer to focus on the irony of life, the part that can be so comical at times. Unfortunately, this year has offered few opportunities for that. Instead it has offered little laughter, much grief, and circumstance for reflection. Growth is good, but we are all due for a healthy dose of joy. Perhaps I am ready to write again.

Aunt Joyce

Most people know by now that my Aunt Joyce has brain cancer. To be exact, a stage four glioblastoma. People I know in the medical field get a real funny look when I share that, because they know what an ugly kind of cancer it is. When we were told the news about her tumor, it was a terrible shock. "How does this happen?" We asked. Then just 3 weeks after that, my Mother died suddenly. Actually, when the call came in late, I thought it was my Mom calling to tell me bad news about my Aunt. I saw the number on the caller ID and said out loud, "Oh no! Not already!" But the voice on the other end was my Dad. And even as he spoke the words, I couldn't hear them, because they were so unexpected, "Your Mother has just died of a massive and sudden heart attack. Your Mother..." What? Say that again...No! Don't say it again. No! No! No!

Now my Mother and my Aunt are indelibly linked. I will forever look back on this period of my life as a time of bad news. My Mother and my Aunt were good friends and sisters-in-law, linked together first by my Father, and second, by a time when my Mother took care of my Grandmother while she too died slowly, and so unfairly, of a merciless disease called cancer.

In later years, after Mom and Dad moved to Minnesota, Mom and Aunt Joyce chatted about grandchildren and hobbies on the phone, exchanged photos, took vacations together (with the husbands of course), and maintained a close and loving relationship. My Mother was gone before we could say goodbye. My Aunt will suffer a long goodbye. Two same but different losses reminding me of the fragility and unfairness of life.

My Mother was very worried about my Aunt. She asked me to check in, be her hands, eyes, and ears from afar. Of course Mom is gone now, but this is all I can do: go by for visits with my Aunt, try to remember something interesting to chat about, make an effort to be a comfort, let her know I am listening, and remind her that Mom is waiting, along with Grandma, to greet her with arms open wide, a familiar smile, and an assurance that we will all be together again someday.

Grieving

So I have now begun to move through this thing they call a cycle of grief. And because each loss is unique, each person experiences it differently, so they say. At first, just a numb fog. Then lots of emotions, all the time. Each day is unpredictable. But what has impacted me the most is how terribly ill equipped most people are for being with someone who is grieving. Oh sure, the first couple of weeks people expect you to cry, and they put their arms around you and listen to you. But then, suddenly, people think you should be all better now. And they begin to try to cheer you up. They say things that are completely insensitive, like, “Are you all better now?” or “Look at the bright side.” What? OK, my dog didn’t just die, it was my Mother. Or they say nothing. Do nothing. Avoid the topic. That’s harder to take. It was my Mother. It’s me. It’s my Dad. We deserve acknowledgement, validation that it’s OK to feel this loss. It’s easier for me to avoid people than feel the pressure to be OK when I am not, or worse, to be alone in the crowd. The real truth is: people are ready to stop listening long before you are ready to stop talking…

TERRIBLE NEWS

Two weeks ago I lost my Mother. Not lost really; she died. Passed away, lost, no longer with us; all nice ways to say a terrible thing: she is gone, suddenly, without any warning. Gone.

Usually writing has a cathartic effect on me. But I can’t even write about this. Not this. It’s too soon, too awful, too raw.

Two days ago, I cut my hand. One of those deep, jagged kind of cuts that just won’t stop bleeding. Then I thought this is how it is with my Mother. People want to give me advice or encouragement to help me cope, or heal. But I can’t do that. Like my cut, I cannot begin to tend to the wound, until it stops bleeding. Something I have no control over. It’s not ready. I can only apply pressure, but it continues to bleed. Each morning when I wake, I think “could it be…?” No, then I remember: it’s not a dream; it is real.

The bleeding finally stops in my cut and I began to tend to it, change the dressing twice daily. Wash it gently, apply peroxide, a thin layer of antibiotic ointment, a clean bandage, and then wrap securely. It starts to look better. The healing begins. Over time it will mend, leaving a jagged mark in its wake. A cut like that never repairs itself invisibly. The scar is forever. Just like my Mom. I’ll never be the same.

Valentine's Day

So today is Valentine's Day. My husband and I have a pact not to celebrate these holidays. In fact, I consider it a gift to both of us, as men often struggle with how to handle these days, and then the women get disappointed unnecessarily, as a perfectly loving man can still fall on his face when it comes to picking out the ideal gift. I think the forced "opportunity" to express their love ends up stressing them out and thus backfiring in the end anyway.

But I am lucky. I have a husband that stays home on Wednesday afternoons so I can go shopping, have lunch with a friend, or go to the doctor (alone). I can wear real clothes that I don't have to worry about getting dribbles on during these trips, and it is glorious. For that, I don't need a holiday...I am grateful everyday.

Let's get started

I named my blog "Life is Funny" because there seems to be no end of humor (or at least irony) in my life. Plus I really enjoy writing and it often ends up being in a style of satire, as I have a hard edge after years of working in social services, so here goes. My kids have been sick for about 10 days. Toward the end of my sequester, I have begun to feel as if I could have a nervous breakdown, however, we have all managed not to do or say anything regrettable during our time of togetherness. Today I got to vacuum (yes, you read it right, after a long quarantine I actually felt privileged to do some housework). The kids have a pretty good sense from their father and me about work vs. playtime. They know that when I am doing my chores (usually the hour during Sesame Street) that I am unavailable for play, although I am always on retainer for potty trips or drinks of water. Today I might have spent too much time paying attention to Dr. Phil because my chores spilled over into the time after morning TV that I try to make myself available to them for activities like play-doh, puzzles, or games. I noticed that while I vacuumed, the kids (not liking the noise) went into my daughter's bedroom, closed the door, and played independently. This could end up being a bad trend for me, as I am very tempted to turn on the vacuum and sneak into the closet for a private phone call to a friend. The thought of an uninterrupted girl chat is enticing.

2021 Postscript…I named my blog Life is Funny because at that time in my life there was much joy and laughter, especially with having young children and all the antics they bring into a household!  There has been a lot of joy and laughter in my life but unfortunately, there was also a lot of suffering and difficulty after starting this blog and thus many of the topics were quite serious. Joy is not something to be found, but something to be created and experienced even when life doesn’t supply it through circumstance. Laughter in the face of suffering, if it can be found, is a salve that heals. A truly joyful person understands that happiness is not found within a momentary condition but through a connection to the spiritual, which transcends the temporal and fleeting events of this life, especially the suffering, and connects us to the eternal and everlasting, and fills us with hope for that which comes.  Life is hard, and it is suffering, but it is also ironic and funny, depending on our perspective.