Two Barbies

Soap-caked and scraggly the black Barbie and her white Barbie sister lay at the bottom of the dried up tub. Abandoned, and slightly stuck to the inner side where they were less conspicuous, it had been two days since they bounced and swam with force by three year-old hands through the warm bubbly water. I stood staring at them and my eyes burned with the filling of another set of tears. I had scrubbed her chubby body quickly while explaining where she was about to go, that she was leaving us for awhile. She had cried and I cheerfully chatted on about all the fun she would have, first at her Grandma's, then to Mommy's (where she loves to visit anyway).  I told her how spoiled and loved she would be. I was careful not to let a smidgen of my heartache slip through my voice. It would be unfair. She wouldn't understand, it would confuse her, and it wouldn't be fair to her momma who was taking her back. Two Barbies--one black, one white--a symbol of two families united. Now, as they lay in my tub, her absence was even more obvious. I left them there and walked out of the bathroom. 

Prayer is a powerful thing. We knew when we brought little Ashanti into our home two years ago that it would be prayer that would sustain us through the tantrums and sleepless nights. We knew crying out to God would be our only choice when we were faced with big questions. It would be deep and sincere prayers of gratitude that we would utter because this exuberant and adorable girl changed our world and our family for the better. And, now, it will be in prayer that we feel our Father hold us tight as we mourn the everyday loss of her sweet presence. It was prayer that took her from us too. Good prayers. Fasting and petitioning God for His wisdom for what was right for this tiny person. We felt that growing up with her birth-momma would help her to know where she came from, that the woman who brought her into this world loved her and wanted to raise her, that she had a heritage. We knew we had been a good temporary substitute, but we prayed for strength for the day her momma would parent her full-time. And that day came. 

We sat around the table on the deck last night and my husband asked our children how they were feeling about Ashanti leaving. There were honest responses about annoying little preschooler behaviour they wouldn't miss, and then there were the stories. The stories made us laugh and then the voice imitations of her raspy little sounds led to even more hysterics. I reminisced about all the surprising and beautiful things Ashanti's mother taught me about her African culture. We had agreed and we had disagreed on a few things. She had questioned Canadian ways, but we always respected each other. 

Our girl was deemed our "goddaughter" by her mother and we had stood by at Ashanti's dedication to the Lord when she was just a few months old. This was a very important title to her mother, she said, and so, she has promised to share her little girl's future with us. How loving and giving of our God to allow us the privilege of rearing a child for a couple of years and then keeping us connected to her so we can see the profound things He will do in her as she grows. All good answers to prayer, no matter how the emotions wash over in this moment.

Two Barbies still lay in the bathtub. One is black and one is white. Two families are united and God is in the middle of it all. 

Day Sixteen: Praying With And For Our Children

"...and please, Lord, help him to grow up to be a..."

I don't even hesitate and Oliver chimes in: "to be a mighty man of God. I know, Mommy." He has my prayer for him memorized and it comforts him. He shifts down under the covers a little more and asks why his own prayers are never answered. I pause for a moment, a little surprised as his faith always seems to be strong.

"Well," I begin, "are you feeling sick right now?" He shakes his head. "Remember it was only two days ago you were hanging over the toilet begging God to heal you? I'd say He answered then, didn't He?" My boy smiles and rolls over satisfied with that response... for now.

He'll wonder again one day and he'll question God when things don't go well for him. That's okay, God is not surprised by His queries, nor is He too distant to handle them. The Psalms are full of David crying out to God for answers. We know the Lord does acknowledge David with encouragement and help as we read more Psalms of gratitude and peace. My son, will be content with my explanations for a while, but he will have to come to his own conclusions about God in the future. He will learn about God's timing and His process, that is often unexpected. Because my husband and I are praying for his soul, we believe Oliver will be overwhelmed with evidence of who his Creator is and that God will undoubtedly reveal Himself in a powerful way to him.

Where our words fail and our attitudes don't always align with Jesus, we can trust that the Lord loves our children more than we do. Our girls are included. We pray for them and with them and they grow in peace and strength with this practice. They ask for it. They pray for each other. We're not a perfect family, so we need it! At the end of the day, whether I'm tucking in my youngest or sharing daily news with my oldest after the other kids are in bed, I'm thankful that all my deficiencies can be left at the feet of the One who pardons and restores. My children hear my request for forgiveness often. They know God loves them even when they sin. Humbling myself and modeling prayer helps them to catch a theology I can't teach them in my own words. Somehow praying changes our voices, our character and our vocabulary. My children notice the difference, which just might explain why they ask me to pray :)   

 

praying Jeremiah 29:11 over this one

  

praying Zephaniah 3:17 over her (not because she needs rebuke :)

 

praying Joshua 1:8 over my oldest

 

praying Psalm 4:8 over this one

praying I Samuel 10:26 over my boy

For further interest... 7 Prayers a Day, by Angie Smith

Eleventeen and Other Endangered Things

We're trying not to burst with laughter as she obliges and repeats her counting. "Nine, ten, eleventeen..." It's her littleness that captures us every time. Even Oliver is giggling at Ashanti's mistakes while his juvenility was the one we were enamoured with only a few months before. (He'd rushed into the house exclaiming that I needed to get outside right away because Emily would become an endangered species if I didn't hurry! Apparently she was stuck in a tree and with all the learning we'd done about African animals, that terminology was the first thing that came to his mind concerning her safety.) Ashanti has returned to "one, two, three..." She finds more satisfaction in our amusement than the actual correctness of her task. Performance driven? Yes, she fits in quite well at our family dinner-table-stage. We drink in the sweet counting errors again with this entertaining, newly-turned-three year-old.

But, these days, as I tuck a little one in for afternoon naps, I also find myself in the passenger's seat while my oldest drives around town. I am the recipient of profound and wondrous gifts and it humbles me when I take a moment to dwell on it all. The famous and transitory "eleventeen" passed through each of our children's lips at one time or another but it's also this fragment in the puzzle of life at home for Meghan that is endangered. She reminds us with a smile that her time here is short before she's off in the big world, conquering dreams and living out God's purposes. We nod and smile back and refuse to pause too long on that subject. But I must pause. I must wrangle every memory and every prayer before five children at home becomes four and our present is extinguished like a flame. Littleness, bigness--it's all endangered because time is fleeting.

Gratitude is my heartbeat but I seek God to rescue my sometimes misaligned attitude and words. What is most important in this small window of my life? Am I modeling Jesus to my children?  Thankfully, as He redeems me, I'm able to truly live like I love Him, which cages vulnerable times that might otherwise become threatened. No regrets is likely an impossible hope but redeemed moments are a promise from the One who gave the profound and wondrous gifts in the first place. And as this present era moves into a new and exciting epoch, I will praise Jesus for the opportunity to have joined Him in raising a few precious members of this generation.

Partner In Parenting

"She'll thank us one day," my husband states, his brow is furrowed and I sigh relief because I'm feeling like the bad guy again. I hear footsteps in the hall and I know the child in question is lurking just beyond the kitchen. Tears and anger--some of them mine--had swallowed up the day and I sit exhausted, but grateful to have a partner in parenting. Some days I wonder how I'm going to raise these four (five) kiddos with my own sin blaring at me loudly as I call them out on theirs. Then, he walks through the door and I remember how--with him. Together with the Lord, we are a three-stranded cord, not easily frayed, but wound up with mercy and help in times of trouble. He knows it. I know it. That's how we do this thing called parenting. 

His favourite place to be and his favourite people to be with :)

Photos below represent the beautiful workplace Terry so diligently manages and we get the benefit of enjoying the quiet and loveliness of it all on a Sunday afternoon.

Happy Father's Day to the man I love, without whom I could not do this difficult, yet rewarding occupation of motherhood.

Day Fourteen: Stuff Gets In The Way

Before my feet touched the floor, I laid in my bed planning out my day and how fabulous I was going to be. I'd already prayed for patience and wisdom, I'd mapped out some solutions to possible roadblocks, and I was determined to check off the boxes of productivity before I laid my head down at night.

But stuff got in the way...

*She pulled her tiny body up, stood on the bed rails beside me and babbled about having a poopy pull-up. Oh man! I was sure we were almost "there" with the training at night. That meant a big clean up and bath would ensue.

*He stared out the window and begged to put the books away. The trail was calling him and there was no way I would be able to wrangle the distant thoughts of my young outdoors man.

*My turn came to spend the day with my sister-in-law, cutting small morsels to eat, administering pain medication, tucking blankets around her weak body. It was my honour and my pleasure, even though it was heart-wrenching to see her so altered. But, not much school that day; my kids were home alone again.

*I was interrupted as I attempted my morning devotions. The girls were clanging dishes, the washing machine timer went off and the odour of burning toast wafted into the room where I had settled in with afghan and the Word of God. Nope, not going to happen. 

But... soon enough, our sprout of a girl went home to be with her momma during the week and now I pick her up on Fridays to come home with us for a mere two and a half days. Sure, the school room is quiet and the work flows easily from the pens of my children, but we miss her. 

*My son needs to read Frog and Toad and write out his spelling words but catching toads teaches him more than any book ever could. 

*Each day with Linda is precious and I'll drop everything, if I need to be with her, memorizing every moment to ensure it's cemented in me. 

*Stuff gets in the way and I can't always sit down and begin my day with God as planned, but thankfully, He still hears me as I go about living and I, Him, as His voice guides me. I'll make that reading happen later in the day this time, and not be discouraged.

I'm so very thankful that stuff gets in the way of my plans. My heart is broken and healed, broken again and then well-taught. Life happens and the Lord keeps me learning and growing and reminding me of His love in the middle of it all.  

Day Three: Meeting Up With Miracles At The Convention

I met up with a real-life, present-day miracle this afternoon. I could tell by her countenance that there was a change that would be obvious to anyone who'd seen her a year ago or less. A few of us who knew her story--her marriage-in-crisis story--were praying fervently, even fasting for her and her family. She explained to me that things were so much better, not perfect, but better. To know the angst and despair of this floundering, precious soul would amaze you at the words of wisdom, godly sorrow and a softness for even more change that were flowing from her mouth today.

 

I praised God. I praised Him as I have done time and again as I've watched other friends spin around in a 180 degree turn and receive the Lord's redemptive plan for their lives. I've experienced it in my own and I'll forever be grateful. Don't ever think Christians are exempt of failing miserably in this life. Don't ever believe homeschool families don't suffer division and brokenness. Most of all, don't ever doubt the Creator and Sustainer of the universe can save us all.

On this final convention day I learned how to write a highschool transcript for Meg, I was reminded  that the love of a parent trumps the expertise of teachers (even though I am a certified teacher, I share this with my friends to encourage them), and I was challenged to create more opportunities for science for my kids. Monday, here we come!

Presenting... Kids At Work

These are the days that inspire our children to achieve a higher standard and these are the days the mommas realize they are not alone in this home educating adventure. We gather every couple of months to present whatever they are working on and preschoolers to highschoolers listen intently to each bold demonstration and every quiet appearance. When these kids know this day is approaching, they work just a little bit harder so they can show off what they've learned. (excuse the phone pics)

Katie shows her alphabet work and we all sing 5 Little Monkeys with her. 

 Sara's project on whales was detailed and lovely.

 Oliver introduced himself like a professional and told how each of his winter art pieces were made. 

 Maysie read her book report on her favourite book, The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane and held up props to help us remember. 

 Emily also showed her art, focusing on slightly different areas than Oliver.

 Eden opened up Magellan's suitcase from his voyage and she read from the perspective of a slave on the ship.

 Each piece was significant to the voyage.

 Emma Grace shared her fox chalk drawing.

 She confidently talked about how she created it and a homemade chalkboard too.

 Calvin read his research report on Hiroshima and told us of the true story of Sadako. 

 Samantha asked us questions about elephants then told us what she had learned about them. 

 Molly shared her beautiful winter art too.

 Auntie Lisa, Olivia and Mama came to be a part of our presentations. 

 Jack made a stop-motion movie with Lego people and told us how stop-motion is made.

 Caleb showed us the beginnings of his Tudor house from his Renaissance unit.

 Chris is making a mock company on cross-fit training. He showed a video of a Christian Olympian performing.  

 Brooke shared her Shakespeare section of her Renaissance unit...

 and the detailed Globe Theatre she designed to go with it. 

Jake had a book of drawings that were his renditions of Da Vinci's.

 

He did a great job.

 Jillian proudly held up her fox chalk drawing. 

 Some of our crew :)

Enjoying the presentations

 

I'm so grateful for these families who parent and teach intentionally and spur me on to be a better mom and home educator.