Iron Sharpening

The Christian Heritage Family Discipleship and Homeschooling Conference is one of the highlights of my family's year. It involves lots of work and little sleep since we help out as volunteers, but it also includes incredible opportunities to fellowship with likeminded Christians and homeschoolers from not only Washington, but also Canada, Idaho, and Oregon. (I have included lots of links in this post, so take advantage of them and click through to find out more about what I'm talking about!)

 We traveled on Thursday morning to help with set up and get familiar with our jobs.

The Botkin family and Mr. Kevin Swanson were the keynote speakers this year, and Lauren and I worked at the Botkin booth in the vendor hall selling all of their marvelous material! It was wonderful to talk with Anna Sophia and Elizabeth and to meet the rest of the family that was there. If you have not heard of them before, check out their website!

 It was special to get to meet a few more blog readers, too! Thanks so much, Ruth and Eden, for coming up to us. It was so much fun to visit with you, and we look forward to future get-togethers! (And Raquel, Keilah, Tara and Kelly--whom we already knew in real life, but mostly keep up with in the blogosphere--it was great seeing you as well!) Of course there were so many other old and new friends that we got to catch up with. Too many to name here, yet they all brightened our day and encouraged us in so many ways.

 Family Night on Friday evening is always an incredible experience with a selection of unique musical performances and recitations from homeschoolers and graduates. From Czardas on the marimba to seven sisters praising God in acapella harmony to interviews with two families who produced two quality films and won prizes in the 2010 San Antonio Film Festival, I was inspired, uplifted, and entertained.

 Mama worked in registration all weekend with these lovely ladies!

 

The theme of the weekend was "Be Ye Transformed," based on Romans 12:1-2:

"I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service. And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God."

Mr. Swanson and Mr. Botkin as well as the myriad of Godly workshop speakers challenged every part of our lives, from literature to grammar to character to vision to family to government to music. Just as things would begin to look bleak and I wondered if there even was a chance for America, with Christians fast becoming a minority and socialism fast becoming a normality and compromise fast becoming the standard, the Holy Spirit would convict me through these speakers by their courage, their steadfastness, and their character.

Four short chorale sessions gave the young people just enough time to polish four varied and beautiful pieces. It is always such a delight to work with our excellent director and learn from him and the other participants.

 In the final session, we performed a hymn arrangement, a spiritual, a classical piece, and a choral accompaniment to a piano solo. Praising the Lord almost one hundred strong, with each and every young person a homeschooler or homeschool graduate was incredible. Please join with me in praying for each one of these young ladies and men and those around our nation. We must stand strong and without compromise, building on our parents' foundation in humility and honor. If the incredible movement our parents have begun through God's grace is dropped on our watch, then I fear we will have lost our last chance for reform and revival in the church today.

 We got to meet and work with this dear family (minus one who was probably off helping somewhere).

 I always come away from the conference with newfound friends--sisters and brothers in Christ!

 Saturday--the final day of the conference--was Susanna's birthday, and she spent most of the day running around with Melanie and taking care of all the speakers and staff. In the evening, though, we went out for dinner and had a special time together unwinding after a long weekend.

Ah...the conference. I already have next year's event written in my calendar--you must not miss Dr. Voddie Baucham Jr. as keynote speaker next year from April 26-28, 2012. Lord willing, I'll be there too!

Scripture taken from the New King James Version. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

The Rest of the Story

History books are full of footnotes and marginal “by-the-ways” in eight point font, relegating to a mere sentence events and people who changed the course of the world. There are many events of 1704 that do indeed merit twelve point font: the formation of Delaware, the contemporary work of Isaac Newton, and Louis XIV’s declaration, “I, the Monarch, am the State.” And it is here that our world-changing annotation goes.

Louis XIV set about proving that his were no empty words as he intrigued and warred and battled and indulged in debauchery, with every effort a calculated endeavor on his part to become the dictator of Europe.

And but for one man, he would have succeeded. The Duke of Marlborough was England’s one hope. Formerly imprisoned, with the king unsure of his trustworthiness, now the Duke was Queen Anne’s sole hope to stop Louis the Sun King from taking over Europe. And the Duke knew that this was his chance at redemption, to prove his fidelity to the Queen. It was a battle against dictatorship, but it was a personal battle, too.

So all hope rested squarely on the Duke of Marlborough’s uniformed shoulders as in August, 1704 his army came face to face with the French troops near the town of Blenheim. But the armies facing off were less than equal.

The French and Bavarians were an imposing line-up, with more men and more guns than the British and Austrians. Not only that, but the French had not suffered a major defeat in fifty years, and a superstitious aura of invincibility seemed to surround them. Their military force was in its prime, and hungry for a conquest.

The British army, on the other hand, was made up of leaders without any formal military education. Furthermore, many of the officers were wealthy men who had simply purchased their undeserved promotions. The Duke of Marlborough didn’t have much to work with, and that night before the clash of the two world forces he must have felt the solemn weight of the dire consequences should he fail.

The sun rose the morning of the planned battle, but that was the only predictable part of the whole day.

Marlborough sent a troop of soldiers to attack the village of Blenheim at 1:00 pm, August 13th, 1704. And that was when Louis XIV’s general, Duc de Tallard, made his fatal error: he panicked. He sent his reserves into the village to help, and Marlborough’s heart must have raced with a tinge of hope. Marlborough immediately ordered the troop to contain the French in the village while he charged the rest of the French and Bavarian armies.

The English and Austrians fought stoutly, their hearts in every sword stroke, until they broke the French lines, and the enemy turned tail and began fleeing like madmen. In the chaos, the Allies succeeded in capturing Marshall Tallard himself, who would spend the next seven years in captivity in England. The French and Bavarian armies suffered devastating losses, with over 14,000 men surrendering in defeat to the victorious Duke of Marlborough.

The Duke’s victory was decisive, and it was the turning point in the War of Spanish Succession. Through the victory at Blenheim, the Duke of Marlborough saved Vienna from the greedy French armies, and he would go on to lead England and her allies to complete victory against the French. Bavaria ended its alliance with the French, and for the first time the Sun King’s brilliance began to smother. The victory was so great that it is said that when Queen Anne heard the news of the great and glorious victory, the regal monarch began to weep.

Out of context, this tale is nothing more than a footnote. But not when you consider that over two centuries later another dictator would threaten to sweep Europe, another equally egotistical and greedy leader. Once again, England would be compelled to come to the aid of her allies, and once again they would need a genius to lead them. Once again, one man would be called upon to helm England’s part in a great war. In 1704, that man was John Churchill, the man whom you know as the Duke of Marlborough. And in 1940, John Churchill’s direct descendant, Winston Churchill, led England through her darkest hour. And thus reads our footnote: “John Churchill, the man who brilliantly saved Europe from the French in 1704.” John only gets a sentence compared to the chapters spent on Winston, but without John Churchill’s leadership that day at Blenheim, there may not have been an England for Winston Churchill to guide to victory in 1940.

So now you know it—the rest of the story.

Photo Credit: Matt Schwartz

Resurrection Sunday in Color

This picture of our family on Resurrection Sunday at church actually began much earlier. However, it seems that all the rest of my pictures were dyed spring colors along with our eggs!

 The preparation started in the month leading up to the celebration, as we camped out in the family room and created a hurricane of pins, threads, fabric scraps, pattern pieces, and sewing tables.

 With the dresses finished, there were preparations for two of Mama's brothers and their families. We were all so excited to be together after several years without face-to-face contact!

 Picnic outside, egg dying, and lots of conversation took up the beautiful Saturday.

 Romeo dozed next to Coconut, both happy to be enjoying the sunshine and attention!

 Sunday morning dawned rainy and overcast, in traditional Washington fashion. We had a fabulous morning, however, with an early church breakfast, lots of fellowship, special music from our family and the children of two other families, and a sermon from Papa!

 The afternoon was again a lovely time of catching up with uncles, aunts, and our cousin as we enjoyed a sit-down scrumptious feast. Worldview, Scripture, politics, memories, and the future--we covered it all!

All too soon, the weekend came to an end. Thank goodness we have all these pictures to look back upon and cherish! I hope your weekend remembering and celebrating the death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ was as blessed as ours.

A Good Day

How Satan rejoiced. As Jesus took his last breath and the earth was plunged into darkness, the Devil must have been laughing an uproarious laugh. It seemed he had finally won.

And on that hill, despair like no other shrouded the people like a fog. For these were the men and women who had believed in Him, the ones who had thrown away their livelihood and businesses like worthless accessories when they had heard Him call. The ones who had broadened their shoulders and heightened their love when their families and friends called them all but deranged. These were the ones who were penniless, friendless, homeless; but somehow, none of these things had mattered until they were Masterless.

Do you think that Judas planned on Jesus dying? Do you think that he sold Jesus out without lying to himself, saying that the Roman officials would never stand for an execution, or that Jesus could slip right through their fingers, as He had done before. And now, Jesus hung dead on the cross and Judas swung dead from a rope, believing that his sin above all others was unforgiveable even as Jesus whispered, “Father, forgive them.”

And Peter was not at the foot of the cross either. As Jesus hung on the cross, Peter was in a dark room somewhere, weeping bitterly, sobbing violently, tearing at his beard. His heart was still breaking from that moment when the Lord had turned and looked at him. With that look, a cold shiver of realization had swathed Peter. But there was something else in that look, something he could not quite grasp yet—forgiveness. But for now, he wept, hunched in a corner, grief-stricken and despairing.

Pilate was left staring out a window, wondering if he had done the right thing. A bowl of water mocked his vain efforts to wash his hands. His wife’s reproachful eyes brought unrest to his soul, but it was Jesus’ eyes that haunted him. Even as that crowd had screamed for this Nazarene’s crucifixion, his eyes had been overflowing with…love.

Blackness.

Loud weeping.

The very bowels of the earth seemed to rebel, trembling furiously. And a veil—a veil was torn in two.

It was the greatest moment in the history of the world, the hub around which all other events revolve, the climax of everything for which God created the world. And if ever there was a day when forgiveness was needed, it was Good Friday. Not only for all of those scattered disciples with regret twisting their hearts, but for all of us, for you, and for me whose sin put Christ on the cross just as surely as Judas’s did.

Yes, that first Good Friday was good, but nobody knew it. Nobody guessed its goodness, nobody thought to mark it as a day to remember, because nobody wanted to remember it. They wanted to wake the next morning and find that that good day had never happened.

To those followers of Jesus it was Terrible Friday. Friday marked the pinnacle of his despicable treachery to Judas. Friday marked the height of his betrayal to Peter. Friday marked the moment of his greatest weakness to Pilate. Friday marks the ultimate reach of all of our treacheries, betrayals, and weaknesses. Friday should not be a day of depression, but we cannot afford to skip the soberness that these men had to feel on this day, the grim realization that my sin caused this day.

Judas knew it.

Peter knew it.

Did Pilate know it?

Do we know it?

We are not standing on a scraggly green hill, surrounded by coarse soldiers, staring at the dead body of our Messiah, overwhelmed with our own neediness and regret, overhwelmed with the realization that Jesus is dead. And while it is to our advantage that we have the Resurrection news of Matthew 28 and Mark 16 and Luke 24 and John 20, I want to set aside the wondrous truth that Christ is risen from the dead for this moment and stare at the battered body of Christ and feel the horror of my own sin.

The earth was dark, because dark is my sin.

The earth shook as my own heart needs to be shaken this day.

The unbelievable truth is that Friday of all days is the day when mankind was the least deserving of a Redeemer, yet the Sunday news is that Jesus died on Friday anyways. Judas, Peter, and Pilate remind us that Jesus did not die for the righteous, but for the men and women whose sin breaks them in two and plunges them into despair, so unbelievable is its burden.

Friday is the day when the serpent was crushed. There is no other way to say it—it is a good day.

Photo Credit: * Abhi *

Just a Child

My childhood was idyllic, with loving parents, the best books, a new sibling every couple of years, and God, whom I dedicated my life to with an untarnished utter faith at the age of three. I remember the weeks leading up to our Great Move--from three bedroom townhouse with a slough in our backyard to two-story farmhouse with ten acres in our backyard. Lauren and I stayed up late every night--probably about 8:30--making great plans for improvement of the property. We would dig an intricate web of tunnels interconnecting over a vast amount of space, and we would dig rooms and perhaps build a few above-ground forts as well. There was the digging method, the hatch doors, the wall supports, the floor, the decorations, the names, and a host of other pressing details to discuss. There were maps to draw and materials to gather.

And somewhere along the way, we intuitively grasped how impractical this whole plan was, and so we opted for all above-ground forts, and we trotted through the woods every day, finding new animal trails to follow through the brambles. We found, named, developed, and visited beautiful oases. "Camp" was one of the more distant forts, but by far the most developed and one of our favorites. And then there was "Plum Creek," and "Lilac," and "Court," and more I've surely forgotten.

Krystn Palmer Photography

When we tired of hiking through the woods like Lewis and Clark, we would play at our quixotic world--the nation of Aetabigillions, whose universe we entered when once we biked in a figure eight on our driveway (the only slab of cement large enough to allow such a daring feat of bicycle prowess). Riding our brave steeds (aka bikes), we would rid Aetabigillia of her enemies and save the day until dinner was called and we had to ride in a backwards figure eight to get out of the land and satisfy the appetite we had worked up.

I read voraciously, devouring every single Little House book by the time I was eight or so. Biographies, historical fiction, and the Bible were my favorite reading, and I was always immersed in at least one book at all times. To correspond with our reading, Lauren and I would often spend our allotted lunch break typing out the next great novel, first a mystery in the great style of the Bobbsey Twins with us as the main characters, and then a historical fiction with Anna traveling back in time to the age of the Babylonians to meet Daniel.

Through all this, somehow I longed to be an adult. I looked forward to the day when a baby shower invitation specified women only, and I wasn't excluded. I blushed when I had to order off the kids menu (as if everyone didn't already know I was a child), and I beamed when people inevitably guessed my age higher than it really was. Adults had all the fun, I would conclude as I hiked down our ravine (not nearly as deadly as it sounds) to the creek, pulled off my boots, and waded in the achingly cold water.

Those memories seem so far away now. Here I am, balancing my checkbook, scrawling things on every single day of my calendar in a desperate attempt to do and remember it all, voting on school levies and the exciting like, and having just paid taxes for the first time (oh, the exhilarating experience). I'm no longer excluded from social functions, but I am now excluded from little girl tea parties with fluffy pink dresses and crooked pinkies and American Girl dolls patiently watching.

"When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things."

I Corinthians 13:11

My brother comes to me, "When will you play with me?" He asks, drawing out every vowel to the fullest extent of his lungs. As I type out my college assignment like a woman possessed, I have to put him off until the weekend, sadly and longingly.

My books lie in a stack. I keep buying them. I keep checking them out. And I move forward at the rate of one page per week. I'm sure the Great Mud Hill is not very muddy anymore, since its treacherous path is no longer traversed daily by scrambling feet, but I wouldn't know. I haven't taken that path or any other up to "Camp" or "Lilac" in ages.

To be perfectly honest, though, if this is "adulthood," I love it because it is not all taxes and deadlines. For it is because of the sheer joy of teaching young Mozarts that I endure the taxes. It is because of the awe I still have for learning that I subject myself to deadlines. The ability to meet my dear friend who lives an hour away for coffee, to drive to concerts and the library, to run errands for Mama, and to take my siblings out on dates. Ultimately, it is the wonder of waking up each morning and serving an Awesome God.

It is just when I think back fifteen years, and I wonder--can't I have them both? Can adulthood with the responsibility and maturity that God desires in my life and childhood with the purity and simplicity and trust that God desires in my life coexist? God condemns laziness and foolishness, both hallmarks of children. However, He also promotes the fear of God, the fidelity, and the unconditional love that children tend to possess. Neither adulthood nor childhood is a perfected state, but as one who loves the Lord with all her heart, I hope to lasso both into one cohesive whole.

“...Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them; for of such is the kingdom of God. Assuredly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will by no means enter it.”

Mark 10:14-15

These days, people ask if I'm still in high school. Is it the acne breakout on my chin that makes me look three years younger, or the lack of a bra-baring power suit, or the fact that I'm still living in a town with only a dead-end community college to its name? Nah, I'm sure not. I like to think it's the naïveté in my face and the twinkle in my eye, my inability to resist a good chocolate chip cookie, and my complete faith in my God and Creator.

"Scripture taken from the New King James Version. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved."