Summer Holiday

Last week, we traveled to Idaho to spend the week with our grandparents on the beautiful lake they live on. It was a wonderful time of rest, relaxation, and fun!

While there, Lauren and I celebrated a certain milestone!

We also went on a looooong bike ride!

After 1 1/2 hours of boating down the lake and a river, the boat stopped some 40 miles from Grandma and Grandpa's house. Yikes! Providentially, although we were on a secluded part of the river, the boat stalled right in front of a friendly couple's house, and they promptly offered to tie us up at the dock and take Grandpa into town to get the part he needed.

While waiting, we had a beautiful view across the river! We also discovered that the couple lived in our town until recently, and the man worked at the same place Papa works! Now is it a small world or what?

The boat's working again! Praise the Lord!

Micah made a rite of passage Grandpa instituted that all of us have gone through over the many summers at the lake. To be allowed on the dock without a life jacket, he had to swim from one designated point to another. He made it! Was there ever any doubt?

We got to catch up with our "triplet" (born on the same day and year as us).

Waterskiing! It's harder than it looks!

So long for now, Idaho! Another year of sweet memories at the lake with so many favorite past times. Which picture is your favorite?

All pictures taken by Mama

Noise Addictions

Hello all!  I'm away from my computer for a few days, so I'm re-publishing a post from November of last year.  It's one of my favorites, so enjoy!

I was around twelve—the oldest sister of six kids, with the youngest boy just born. My twelve year old cousin was over, and she, Mikaela, and I were playing with gusto. It was a wonderful time, but right in the middle of our latest game, my cousin, an only child, piped up with something to say, and I got the impression that she had been deliberating on this comment for most of the evening. “Doesn’t that noise bother you?” she asked. Mikaela and I looked at each other, opened our ears, and realized that our younger siblings were also playing with great gusto in the office right outside of our bedroom. Only their gusto was more like uproarious giggles, simultaneous shouts of delight over their game, and banging away at our toy piano. All at the same time. I hadn’t noticed.

Fast-forward to a few days ago. This has been the gold standard of hectic weeks, and my time to do school has been short and precious. I sat down to concentrate and turned on some (Christmas!) music in the background while I worked. It was a few minutes later before I realized that I was getting distracted from the work at hand with the exuberant music playing in my ear. Why exactly was I trying so hard to multitask? So I turned the music off and listened to the silence.

This is what I heard: in our house, silence is rare. Inside, every door is a swinging one, and noise abounds. Even if you go outside, there is always a rooster crowing or a tree cracking or a lawnmower roaring. To me, these sounds are beautiful, but I am painfully aware that these beautiful sounds are drowned out by other sounds that aren’t quite so lovely. A bird’s-eye view of our society in general reveals that we are almost addicted to noise. We can't go for an hour without turning on the radio, the TV, the headphones, the sound effects—we are surrounded by noise and sound! I’m not talking about the kind of lovely noise that bothered my cousin but the noise of all this entertainment--noise pollution.

All of this “artificial” noise is as detrimental as going without sleep, because it occupies our heads with peripheral things when we should really be using the time to meditate and communicate with God. Headphones, roosters, idle chatter, roosters, (-: and television are huge inhibitors to deep, meaningful time with God. The great men of Scripture? How often did they put in their 8-track tapes when they were bouncing down the road on a camel? I can verify they never did—instead, I imagine them talking with God as they trekked between towns.

Scripture speaks often of the importance of silence. Ecclesiastes 3:7b says, “A time to keep silence, and a time to speak.” Habbakuk 2:20 offers an even more compelling picture: “But the LORD is in his holy temple: let all the earth keep silence before him.” I Timothy 4:15 promises that whatever sacrifice we make in order to have this time with God is worth it: “Meditate on these things; give yourself entirely to them, that your progress may be evident to all.” So turn off the radio in the car—talk to God. Turn off the phone—talk to God. Take out the headphones—talk to God. Your soul will thank you.

Another benefit? When we take the time to realize the beauty of silence we can once again appreciate the beauty of sound. Today I am going to revel in silence, and a week from today I’m going to equally enjoy the sound of nineteen people in the house. We’ll have glasses clinking, laughter to the rooftop, and lots of conversation—talking about God.

Picture Credit

Optionless

Many years ago, my parents made a radical decision to keep their children home with them—no daycare, no preschool, no kindergarten, no elementary school, no middle school, no junior high, and no high school. Their brave decision then will change generations for centuries, because each one of my siblings and I are equally committed to homeschooling our children, should the Lord so bless us. The reasons for my personal decision to homeschool future children are myriad. I could tell you about my own experience—how I never scored below 90% on an achievement test, or how I was reading the Little House on the Prairie series as a five year-old, or how I scored in the 96th percentile on my SAT, or how I had the freedom to compose novels and practice piano and violin to my heart’s content. I could defend my socialization skills (I always love it when people ask me that—am I not socializing with you as I speak? Are “socialization skills” so nebulous that you can’t analyze them for yourself when they’re right in front of you?), my diploma, my lack of interest in the prom, and the legality of it all. I learned Spanish, I had science labs, and I took tests like everyone else. No, I didn’t sleep in—I woke up between five-thirty and six every morning with every fifteen minutes of my day scheduled on a piece of paper.

But, when it comes right down to it, I’m not going to homeschool my children for superior test scores or geeky bragging rights. My children will meet the state requirements and they will learn reading, writing, arithmetic, and beyond. Hopefully, they will exceed requirements and soar above average percentile scores. (On average, the approximately 1.5 million homeschoolers in the United States consistently score in the 80th percentile, compared to their public school counterparts who come in at the 50th percentile [1].) That’s just a bonus, though.

That’s just what I keep in my back pocket to tell all those non-homeschoolers who cannot fathom why I would be horrified to let my children sit in a humanistic, God-hating classroom for 14,000 of the most formative hours of their lives. That’s what I say when I know my acquaintance will count catty cliques and bratty bullies as part of the experience. That’s what I report to those who are obsessed with IQs and Ivy League colleges.

But to those who seem the least bit interested, I’ll gladly expound on my real reason: I will homeschool my children to disciple them. Just as I grew up beside Mama, listening to her read Miller stories at lunch, helping her feed squash to baby sister, and learning a spiritual principle for every letter in the alphabet, so I want my kids to do the same. Just as I grew up knowing that every morning, like it or not, Papa would be kissing me awake before the sun was up, teaching a tableful of sleepy children about God and Scripture, so I want for my children. Just as I realized my responsibility before God as a human and a sinner and submitted my life to His Lordship at an early age, so I pray with all my heart will happen for my children.

While I know that God is sovereign, and He has and will continue to use government and Christian schools mercifully in children’s lives, I don’t want my thirteen year-old girl to worry about attracting cute guys, and I don’t want my ten year-old son to know who Taylor Lautner is. I don’t want to spend the hour between seven and eight every morning seeing my children off to school and the time from three to eight every evening doing damage control against worldly-wise kids, “health” class, and a secular humanist worldview, only to repeat the same process the next day.

In Matthew 22:36-38, Jesus quoted directly from Deuteronomy 6 to provide the greatest commandment in the Law. The verses after that command, however, provide a sobering reality check to anyone who is or aspires to be a parent:

“And thou shalt love the LORD thy God with all thine heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy might. And these words, which I command thee this day, shall be in thine heart: And thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy children, and shalt talk of them when thou sittest in thine house, and when thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest down, and when thou risest up (Deuteronomy 6:5-7).”

I will homeschool because I belong to Jesus and His Word commands me to disciple my children. Is there any other option?

If you are interested in homeschooling, please visit You Can Homeschool to learn more!

Picture Credit
[1] Homeschool Progress Report 2009

The Stubborn Streak

Are you a woman of conviction?

Are you a woman of fire and passion?

Are you a woman who knows what she believes?

We’re on the same page so far. Now the hard question: are you also a woman who can sometimes be stubborn?

Sigh. Me too.

Sturdy conviction is an admirable, hard-won trait, and the woman who bears this carries herself with boldness, courage, and wisdom. She will never back down on the truth and never compromise.

And sturdy conviction was definitely my strong suit when, at age 4 or 5, I bore the firm belief that sauteed mushrooms were the worst food on the planet. (I still do, in fact!) I turned up my nose at them every time they were served and painstakingly separated them from the rest of my food. One evening, mushrooms graced our stir-fry, and as I began to scoot them to the side of my plate, Papa informed me that I would be eating them that night. I continued to separate out the mushrooms and ate everything else on my plate except for the slimy bits of fungi. Everyone else left the table, and I remained, calmly stoic in my decision to not eat the mushrooms, and quite firm in my resolve. Around me the evening preparations continued: the kitchen was cleaned, stories were read, Mikaela and Melanie went to bed, and still I sat. Pretty soon, even Mama and Papa were in bed, the house was dark, and I still sat staring at my cold, slimy mushrooms. Papa wandered out in his pajamas every once in a while, shaking his head at his willful child. Finally, my tastebuds dulled with sleepiness, I eyed the mushrooms with a new determination, speared them with the fork, swallowed them whole, and went to bed.

To my little mind, I was suffering through an unjustice—I was in fact being heroic!

Or being a stubborn brat. 

In reality though, the line beween heroicism and stubbornnes is often hard to find.  Where is the separation between bold determination and simple pig-headedness? How do you balance being wise as serpents with being harmless as doves (Mt. 10:16)? How do you sally forth in our pagan world with nary a doubt yet carry close to your heart a teachable spirit, open to the possibility of learning something? Are you being a passionate truth-speaker, or simply argumentative and arrogant?

One man was defending the name of Christ as he was being detained without cause and questioned. He was boldly striking down lies with truth, but he wasn’t the only one striking, for the high priest ordered him struck in the mouth. His mouth still smarting, “Paul said to him, ‘God will strike you, you whitewashed wall! For you sit to judge me according to the law, and do you command me to be struck contrary to the law?’ And those who stood by said, ‘Do you revile God's high priest?’ Then Paul said, ‘I did not know, brethren, that he was the high priest; for it is written, “You shall not speak evil of a ruler of your people.”’ (Acts 23:3-5)

I don’t know about you, but many a time I have been deep in a discussion, passionate about carrying my point, only to suddenly realize that I was dead wrong. But when I find myself wrong, my first inclination is still to squint up my eyes and swallow the slimy nastiness whole—get through it as quickly as possible. But apologize for stubbornness? Do I look like super-woman?

Ezekiel 2:4 says, “For they are impudent and stubborn children. I am sending you to them, and you shall say to them, 'Thus says the Lord GOD.’”

We all need a good dose of "Thus says" more than every once in a while.  You see, there is a line between stubbornness and holy boldness, and that line is humility. When we have that “deep sense of [our] own unworthiness in the sight of God” (Websters 1828 Dictionary) our first impulse will not be to accuse, in the name of Christ, those who strike us. When we have humility and are in proper awe of the Lord’s omnipotent presence and saving grace, we can share our convictions on abortion without getting into a boxing match. We can state our firm belief that you just took the wrong turn and then leave it at that—able to restrain ourselves from grabbing the wheel and turning the car around.

Isaiah 50:7-8,10 says, "For the Lord GOD will help Me; Therefore I will not be disgraced; Therefore I have set My face like a flint, And I know that I will not be ashamed. He is near who justifies Me; Who will contend with Me? Let us stand together. Who is My adversary? Let him come near Me….Who among you fears the LORD? Who obeys the voice of His Servant? Who walks in darkness And has no light? Let him trust in the name of the LORD And rely upon his God.”

You can be arguing for the right side and still be stubborn, but you cannot have holy boldness and argue for the wrong side, for that comes only from the Holy Spirit. Therein lies our advantage as Christians—not in our jutted out chin, crossed arms, and tricky arguments. Have passion, determination, grit, and tenacity, but every night kneel before and say with heartfelt humility, “Lord, show me Your way, for I don't want to be following my own way!”

As for me, I’m still passionate about my loathing for sauteed mushrooms (fresh are fine), but I’m trying to practice what I preach and exercise a teachable spirit—every other time mushrooms are presented at the table, I eat one.

Picture Credit

When the Rain Comes

Yesterday, we participated in a first annual film festival with four other families. We received the word our movie was to be about--"JOY"--at 6 AM and spent the next twelve hours frantically brainstorming, filming, editing, and stressing. Parent participation was strictly prohibited, and every child's participation was mandatory, so throughout the day, we learned to work together through the fun moments and the hectic ones, striving for a common goal and desire.

Movie making seems a lot like life, doesn't it?

So, without further ado, please enjoy our movie--but remember, it is our first attempt ever at something like this!

When the Rain Comes copyright 2010 by Lauren and Mikaela. Copying, reposting, or otherwise distributing this video is strictly forbidden without express permission from the owners.

Music, in order of appearance:

"I Forgive You" by Thomas Newman

"Singin' in the Rain" by Nacio Herb Brown and Arthur Freed and sung by Gene Kelly