A Homeschool Day in the Life, 2015

Dianna’s Homeschool Day in the Life (with a 9-, 11-, 12-, & 14-year-old)

Written by Dianna Schnabel of Joyful in Hope.

5:37am: I wake up just before my 5:40 alarm blares. My husband is showering for work and I need a few minutes to wake my brain before getting out of bed.

6:00am: My husband wakes our oldest (14-year-old) and middle (11-year-old) daughters since they attend public school and have buses to catch. Meanwhile I take a few minutes to get dressed and finish rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

Here’s the thing: I am not a morning person. Light helps. My husband (per my request) leaves the bathroom light on and door open to replicate sunlight during these dark winter months. We also have two kitties that pounce on each other, and me, so that helps too.

6:15am: I putz around the kitchen—loading the dishwasher, prepping veggies for the crockpot, etc.—while my girls get ready for school. They’re gone most of the day so I like to get in some chat time before they leave.

6:55am: Two down, two to go. I eat breakfast and do my devotions before waking my homeschoolers.

7:30am: Andrew (12-year-old) and Alyssa (9-year-old) begin their morning checklists while I jump on my computer to get some work done. I work for a realtor part time from home, answering emails and organizing client contact info.

8:00-9:00am: Some days the kids and I will get started on schoolwork right away, but sometimes we mess around first, watching funny and/or educational videos on facebook and youtube. Friday morning we had an impromptu art history lesson after Alyssa asked why the people in some paintings have halos. Who knew that halos in art dated back to ancient Egypt? Not me.

9-ish: We officially start school. Our primary curriculum this year is an ancient history unit study from My Father’s World (MFW) titled Creation to the Greeks (CTG).

Bible We start with a Bible reading—we finished Joshua on Friday—and discussion. This takes longer than it probably should but it’s one of our favorite subjects and we usually get into some pretty fun conversations.

History More reading aloud and discussion as we study ancient history. Our readings are often supplemented with coloring pages, notebook summary pages, or map labeling exercises.

Vocabulary Another favorite of ours. We use English from the Roots Up, studying Greek and Latin root words as a means of interpreting language.

Science We stopped using the textbook that came with our MFW curriculum because the daily “experiments” were more annoying than educational, and the material was presented in a babyish way that patronized the kids. Instead we are reading Archimedes and the Door of Science, as well as poring over picture/factoid books about volcanoes, earthquakes, and weather.

Read-Aloud The kids very favorite part of the school day—read-aloud story time. MFW schedules fantastic realistic/historical fiction stories with varied cultural and historical backdrops. Each book follows the protagonist on an adventure that leads to their spiritual awakening. The only problem we have with these books is that MFW only schedules one chapter per day, so we are always ahead of schedule. During the resultant book gap I read the kids some of my childhood favorites, such as A Wrinkle in Time, Island of the Blue Dolphins, and My Side of the Mountain.

11:30am: Once we finish the MFW portion of our schoolwork we take a lunch break. Since it’s just the three of us we kind of forage around for leftovers or sandwich makings. After lunch the kids go outside to play. I may walk down to the park with them for a few minutes, but then I generally spend a half hour or so working on the computer.

1:00pm: We start back to work, this time with math and reading. Alyssa practices her times tables while I go over Andrew’s pre-Algebra lesson with him (we currently use Saxon Math). One of the kids then sets the oven timer for 30 minutes, during which they read, and I either read or work. Once or twice a week we add in a French lesson with First Start French from Memoria Press. We love French!

2:00pm: This usually marks the end of our school day, at which point the kids are free to do their own thing. Andrew likes to play Legos in his room, while Alyssa plays with her dolls. Occasionally I’ll let them set up Minecraft on the living room TV so they can build Egyptian pyramids or volcanoes.

3:30-4:00pm: My other two kids get home from school and I drive Alyssa to dance.

5:00pm: My husband gets home from work and we make dinner and help the girls with their homework.

7:00pm: I pick Alyssa up from dance while Matt works on his own schoolwork (he’s finishing up his bachelor’s degree). When we get home Alyssa eats dinner and we all watch TV for an hour or so.

8:30pm: It’s been a long day for everyone; time to get ready for bed. Bonne nuit.

We have a lot of “favorite” subjects. What’s yours?

Schizzing out with the Schnabels

Summer Vacation, Day 1:

Today did not go as planned. Big surprise there. Blood draws for the three youngest were painful for all involved, although Alyssa's Oscar-Winning dramatic performance WAS pretty funny: "Don't poke me, don't poke me, YOWWWWW!!!! SCREAM!!!!!" Can you say drama queen?

We grabbed a quick treat afterwards while waiting for my sister Stefanie to join us for our Humane Society excursion. Then we piled into the car and headed into Omaha...only to turn around and drive back to Gretna, where I had left my debit card sitting on the counter at the vet's office.

We tried for Omaha again, only to find ourselves stranded in the middle of a semi-abandoned neighborhood. Andrew and Abby were both incredibly carsick. We pulled off onto a quiet neighborhood street and Andrew jumped out of the car, took off his shirt (What? He was hot.) and proceeded to lay down in someone's yard. Meanwhile Abby rolled down her window and hung out of the car, tongue lolling like a slow-witted dog. Neither of them threw up, but we had to wait a good twenty minutes before their tummies calmed enough for us to get back on the road. Blessing: I assume no one was home at the house we parked in front of, otherwise the cops would have shown up to take our half-naked lawn urchin into custody.

Six more miles in the car, with Andrew turning fourteen shades of green, and we landed at Applebee's. Air conditioning, salty food, and lack of motion seemed to be in order to cure what ailed my two middles. Which is where we got today's photo:

Yes, there is something wrong with the lighting on my phone camera. No, Ashley is not toothless. Yes, I'm gonna need a new camera phone.

Applebee's turned out to be just what everyone needed, but unfortunately by that time my sister had to get back to Gretna for work. So no Humane Society today. I guess we will try again tomorrow. For now, we are all crashed out on couches, eyes glazed over, as Vin Diesel attempts to portray a super tough babysitter/Navy SEAL. Dang, summer vacation is hard work.

What I Meant to Say

It’s kind of funny how often we learn lessons through our kids. Just this morning for example, I was having a chat with Andrew about putting a positive spin on things. He has been struggling with a major attitude problem these last few weeks, and I am trying to get him to exchange positive thoughts for negative ones.

This is a trick I learned while living with my friend Marla. I am a pessimistic person by nature, so my thoughts and comments tend to flow in a negative direction. Marla, on the other hand, is one of those happy-go-lucky, overly-optimistic people that kind of makes you want to gag (when you aren’t wishing you were more like her). Whenever I would say anything negative within her hearing she would happily correct me, “What you meant to say was…,” and then she would voice the same thought in a positive light. Here are a couple of my common complaints paired with their positive counterparts:

My husband is never here; he works all the time.
My husband has a steady job that provides for our family financially.

My kids are making too much noise—it’s driving me crazy!
My kids may be loud, but they are having fun and staying out of trouble (mostly).

I am too tired to get anything done today.
I am lucky to have a flexible job that allows me to rest when I need to.

Of course as I went through this discussion with Andrew I realized that I was giving him instructions that I myself haven’t been able to follow. I guess it’s time for the entire Schnabel family to undergo some positivity training. I think the picture I swiped from a friend’s facebook page this morning best captures the essence of today’s lesson:

Responsibility, Work Ethic, and Money Management, Oh My!

This year the Schnabel kids are getting a lesson in hard work, responsibility, and money management. I read a magazine article by a woman whose 7-year-old son began a trash-to-curb business to earn some pocket money and I was inspired. Apparently I don’t get out much.

Of course the initial challenge in this endeavor was to find age appropriate “jobs” that the kids could charge money for. We don’t do the allowance thing anymore, mainly because I want them to learn that it is their responsibility as members of this family to contribute to the running of the household. It’s been about a year since we stopped paying allowance but the kids still perform their daily chores—unload dishwasher, take out trash, feed pets, etc.—and sometimes they even do it without whining. Gasp!

Now, however, I want them to find something outside of the home to do to earn money (except Alyssa, who is too young yet to gad about town on her own). For Ashley, it is simply a matter of preparation. She will be twelve this summer. A couple of inches taller and she will be big enough to detassle corn. Two short years and she can legally work at McDonald’s. Don’t say it…don’t you dare…I am not old! Yet.

Andrew is eager enough to get to work; he is very motivated like his dad. The problem with Andrew is that his primary motivation is money. Accordingly, one of my points of focus during this lesson is to teach the kids how to divide their money into three pots: spending, saving, and giving.

Abby—well I’m not really sure what to do with her yet. She is the hardest for me to read since we are the least alike personality-wise. I will probably ask my sis for advice on this one. She doesn’t care about money and doesn’t even seem to enjoy spending it all that much. My sister recently took her to the mall (an hour away) to spend her $50 from Christmas. She bought an adorable stuffed monkey for ten dollars and then called it a day. Weird. I think maybe she was switched at birth.

Alyssa is the youngest, and frankly kind of spoiled and selfish. As with Andrew, I think the money issue will be my main focus with her, although she definitely needs to learn a better work ethic as well. She wants to be a professional dancer, which is one of the most demanding careers I can think of, and one that cannot be attained without a good deal of blood and sweat—neither of which she is particularly willing to contribute at this point.

Alyssa was the first to get a job assignment. What she needed was a job that would make her get up and move as far away from the house as possible without removing her from my sight. Ah—the mail! Requires shoes (theoretically) and a short walk outside, which in Nebraska could mean braving a windstorm, a blizzard, or even smothering heat. She gets paid thirty cents a day for bringing the mail into the house, but there are two catches:
1. She has to remember to do this on her own, before Matt gets home and checks the mail, otherwise she doesn’t get paid.
2. She has to split her money up equally using the Girl Scout Cookie box bank we made together. In the manner of a school-made Valentine’s Day mailbox, we covered three boxes with paper—which she decorated—taped them together, and cut slots in each. After bringing in the mail she gets three dimes: one for spending, one for saving, and one for giving.

She is a lot like me and went shopping as soon as she had enough money to buy a pack of gum, but has not even tried to touch the money in the other two sections. Tonight she even asked me to help her empty the “give” box so she could take the money to AWANA’s to donate. Good Alyssa! I may have been distracted by the Crazy Hair Night theme for tonight and forgotten to give her the money, but at least she is thinking about it, and that, after all, is the point of this exercise.

Andrew was pretty easy too. He has a new friend in town with a really cool bike. A really expensive bike actually—and Andrew wants one. So he has started a trash-to-curb business where he rolls the neighbor’s trash cans down to the curb before trash day and returns them to their resting place the next day. He set out to shop for clients as soon as he got home from school this afternoon and already has four clients (including us—he has a great sales pitch!).

We still need to work on the concept of separating his earnings into the spending/saving/giving categories, but for now he is pooling his money in a glass jar to cover his contribution to the new bike fund. This way he will learn how to look at the bigger picture as he saves, rather than spends his earnings—and by the time summer arrives he will have a super cool BMX freestyler with twenty-inch tires and five-spoke rims.

Yep, that’s right. I know about bikes. I’m the cool mom. Or at least I am impersonating her by copying the product info. off of Amazon.com.

Bikes have two wheels. They are faster than running. Those little seats really hurt my ***. That’s all I need to know.

When it comes to picking a job, that’s the easy part for Ash. She loves animals, so she is advertising herself as a pet sitter for vacationing Murdock-ians. Murdock-enes? Murdock citizens. There we go. The hard part for her will be finding clients within biking distance in such an unpopulated area, but I think even a couple of good jobs throughout the summer will help to improve her level of responsibility.

I am also training her as a babysitter, so that is something else that she should be able to start doing in the not-too-distant future. And as soon as she finishes this growth spurt—detassling! It’s hot, back-breaking labor, but I have a feeling the shopping spree at Justice with one third of her earnings will make it worth the pain.

As I said earlier, I haven’t decided what to do with Abby yet. However, I am currently taking suggestions. Please submit your ideas by e-mail or facebook by May 1st. Thank you.

God Will Provide

The Scriptures are filled with promises and evidence of God’s provision. In Genesis, God Himself provided the lamb for Abraham’s sacrifice. Isaiah speaks of how God provided water to His people in the desert. There are several instances of Him providing food to His people, and I Peter instructs us to do everything “with the strength God provides.” I find it disturbing that even with all of the evidence of God’s provision found in the Bible we tend to forget God’s promises when our own needs crop up. I also find it amazing that He continues to provide for all of our needs, even when our faith wavers or we forget to ask.

My friend, Jenni, is dealing with a difficult situation right now. Her husband was hospitalized yesterday with pancreatitis, and will likely remain in the hospital for a few days. She has three young children to care for, the youngest of whom is still a baby. This situation seems overwhelming, but it is actually an example of how God both anticipates and provides for us in every circumstance.

Some people may call it luck, but I call it providential. For a few weeks now Jenni’s best friend has been living with her and her husband. This friend is getting ready to leave and go back home, but in the meantime, her significant other has come out here to help her pack and move. Coincidentally, these two are planning to leave in about a week, which should be the same time that Jenni’s husband is released from the hospital.

Jenni was understandably upset at the idea of losing her other half and acting as a single parent for a week, but thanks to God’s foresight, she has two adults staying with her to help out during her husband’s illness. With the addition of these two helpers into the equation, Jenni not only has assistance with her kids and home, but she is also able to leave her kids at home every few hours and go visit her husband in the hospital.

Of course, there are still obstacles to overcome. Jenni’s husband needs healing, and they will have a difficult time with the loss of income and the added burden of hospital bills. However, if we truly believe in the stories of God’s provision portrayed in the Bible, we can be confident that none of these hurdles is too difficult for our omnipotent God to leap over.

Are you experiencing an impossible situation, one that you cannot figure out how to survive? If so, take this promise to heart, “The LORD is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in Him, and I am helped” (Psalm 28:7a NIV).

Standing on the Promises

We are studying Genesis in my church on Sunday mornings and the last few weeks have centered around the stories of Abraham. Abraham and his wife, Sarah, are held up as examples of faith because they believed God's promises, even when they seemed impossible to fulfill.

Who among us, if told that we would bear a child in our nineties, would act as Sarah first did and laugh out loud? My guess is, most of us. Sarah may have been skeptical at first, but eventually both she and Abraham grabbed onto God's promises for them.

For the most part we are familiar with this story, and we admire Abraham and Sarah's tenacity, but when faced with similar tests of faith we hold ourselves to a lesser standard. Our idea of keeping the faith is waiting a few weeks. Ask us to wait a few months or years to see God work and we begin to question: What's taking so long? Did God really promise...

Maybe it's our fast food mentality, or maybe it's lack of faith, pure and simple, but I have yet to meet anyone who has held onto God's promises for the length of time and with the surety that Abraham did. Abraham's story serves as a reminder that God does keep His promises, even when they seem impossible to accomplish, and even if it takes decades or centuries for His perfect timing to come about.

Recently, I was talking to my sister about the book I am writing and I was flippant about the subject of publishing. I expressed my belief that I may never become a published author...and she bit my head off. She didn't reprimand me for being unsure of my own talent, as I thought she would. Far worse, she admonished me for my lack of faith in God. According to her line of reasoning, God is the One who endows us with our gifts, so for me to doubt my gift of writing is to doubt God. When did she get so smart, anyway?

So here is the challenge. What promises has God given to you? Do you still trust Him to fulfill those promises, or is your faith losing ground in the face of impossible circumstances?

Let Religious Freedom Ring

I was listening to Christian radio this morning and heard a story about a gathering held by Louis Palau in France. According to the radio host, this was the first Christian conference allowed in a public venue in Southern France. This is just one example of the spiritual struggle in Europe. Sadly, though we may consider Europeans our equals on nearly every front, including technological and financial, and though our Christian heritage was handed down to us through them, Europe has become a spiritual desert over the last three centuries.

I find the whole idea quite disturbing the more I think about it. While Christians are still the majority in the United States, in nearly every other corner of the world they are the minority, and not just the minority, but a persecuted minority.

Those of us living in the U.S. don’t generally realize how blessed we are to have the religious freedom that we do. We get angry because public schools no longer pray or say the Pledge of Allegiance, but really we should be thanking God that we have a government that allows us to pray, read the Bible, and preach openly, without fear of retribution. Many of us don’t realize how rare those rights are compared to the rest of the world.

This post seems rather appropriate coming on the heels of our Independence Day celebration. While barbequing, swimming, and setting off fireworks to celebrate our country’s independence, we should be thinking about the specific freedoms that our country grants us, such as the ability to worship God freely.

In particular, we should be thinking about the responsibility that our religious freedom carries. The responsibility not only to take advantage of that freedom for ourselves in the form of personal worship, but also the responsibility we have to “Go into all the world and preach the good news to all creation” (Mark 16:15). In other words, if we aren’t serving God in our spheres of influence, using the gifts He gave us, we are wasting the freedom that has been bestowed upon us by God’s grace, at the expense of the countless soldiers who have died defending that freedom.

Holy Thursday

I am having another bad day today, the worst I've had in a while. I wasn't able to crawl out of bed until one o'clock this afternoon, and even then I was still suffering from a splitting migraine (which has calmed now - thank you, Excedrin). I missed another class and the kids had to get ready for school by themselves. It is so frustrating to be held captive by my own body. Once I got moving, however, I realized that my focus needs a major readjustment.

Today is Holy Thursday. In the chronology of Holy Week, this would be the day that Jesus celebrated the Last Supper with his disciples. Many of us commmemorate the Last Supper on a regular basis by partaking in Communion, but how many of us celebrate the origins of this very important ritual? Jesus instructed his disciples to eat and drink in remembrance of Him. So shouldn't we also take this opportunity to remember the significance of the Last Supper? Shouldn't this be a day to teach our kids about Communion, it's origins and importance?

I realized today that for many of us Easter is a meaningful holiday, but that our tendency is to limit our celebration to the two hours we are at church on Easter Sunday. But doesn't Christ's death and resurrection deserve more than a passing nod? All of this week my focus has been on everything other than Christ. My sickness, my homework, my hectic schedule...me. It's time to shift the focus to the One who sacrificed His life for mine.

Hello, Mortality!

I was rudely reintroduced to my physical limitations today. I have been at Creighton for over two years, and today is the first time I skipped a class because of MS. I have missed classes when the kids were sick, and a couple of times from being snowed in, but never for being sick myself. I’ve even gone to school with pneumonia before, more than once as a matter of fact.

Of course, this year has been kind of an experiment for me anyway. With my youngest starting school, I decided to start attending classes full time during the day, which means Tuesdays see me at school from nine in the morning until ten at night. This would be a challenge for even the healthiest of people. Add to that the fact that I have been without go-juice (narcolepsy medication) since Thanksgiving due to insurance issues (What’s that? The government doesn’t like spending thousands of dollars a month on my medications? Well, I don’t like having MS. Wanna trade?), and it might be more appropriate for me to look at today as a blessing.

In two years this is the first time I have had to miss a class because of MS. What an amazing feat! One accomplished only by the grace of God, I assure you. It is days like this, when I am faced with the stark reality of life with MS, that I am reminded of the lesson that the Apostle Paul learned himself through experience: God’s grace is sufficient for me, for His power is made perfect in my weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9).

Short Story, Part II

Are You There, God? Part II

Two days before Christmas, Shelly’s brother, Tom, pulls his forest green beater into their parents’ gravel driveway. Shelly climbs out into the Minnesota snow, burying her pink Uggs a good four inches before standing up and closing the door. A glance at her brother, already unloading her bags from his trunk, makes her giggle. His flaming red hair is sticking straight up, poking above the green trunk door like the red star topper of a Christmas tree. Tom leans over to glare at her, “You could help, you know. After all, it’s your crap.”

Shelly forces her mirth aside, pulling her mouth into an exaggerated frown. “I’m so sorry, dear brother,” she teases, making her way to the back of the car, “I didn’t mean to offend your delicate sensibilities.”

Shelly ducks Tom’s half-hearted swipe, slipping back into laughter as she helps him wrestle her three bags into the red brick farmhouse standing before them, the one that always reminds her of the third pig’s house in the story, “The Three Little Pigs.” She drops her Dad’s old duffel bag on the floor and slips off her boots on the snowman checkered welcome mat, leaving Tom to carry the other two bags up to her room. Her parents are still at work so she saunters into the sunny yellow kitchen to scavenge for a snack.

As she paints peanut butter on four pieces of her Mom’s favorite seven grain bread, Shelly considers her homecoming. On the one hand, she is glad that her parents could afford to fly her home for the holidays, and she is really glad that they have kept her room for her, instead of turning it into an office or an exercise room, like some of her friend’s parents have done, but on the other hand, she is not looking forward to explaining her report card when it arrives. She turned in as much extra credit as she could talk her History teacher into allowing, but it can’t possibly have been enough to make up for the D she got on her research paper.

By the time Tom stumbles into the kitchen, tripping over himself like the gangly teenager that he is, Shelly is washing down her sandwich with a glass of skim milk. “Way to go, Loser,” Tom grumbles, “so glad you found time for a snack while I played bellhop. This isn’t the Hilton, you know.”

Shelly pushes a plate across the laminate countertop and gives Tom a playful glare. “If you’d open your eyes, Loser, you’d see I made a sandwich for you, too.”

“Oh, well, thanks,” concedes Tom. “By the way,” he mumbles around a mouthful of sticky-as-tar peanut butter, shoving a stack of mail towards Shelly, “this is all yours.”

Shelly can feel the heat rising in her neck, and suddenly the peanut butter sandwich begins rolling around her stomach like a ball caught in a lottery barrel. She sifts through the pile of mail, pushing aside American Express applications and L.L. Bean catalog’s in her search for Northwestern’s purple logo. A quarter of the way through the batch Shelly finds what she is looking for. In fact, there are two envelopes from Northwestern.

She rips open the first envelope determinedly, while at the same time her heart is praying, Please, God, don’t let this be as bad as I think it is. Finding a letter, rather than a report card, Shelly does a quick scan, expecting the annual alumni request for monetary donations, but pausing when her eyes catch the word, ‘TriQuarterly,’ the title of Northwestern’s online literary print journal. She can feel her heartbeat speed up, pitter-pattering like a spring rain, as she zones in on the document, now searching for a different group of words, “Keeping the Faith.” There it is! “We are pleased to inform you that your Slice of Life article, “Keeping the Faith,” has been accepted for publication in our next issue of TriQuarterly Online.”

By this time, Tom has finished his sandwich and moved on in search of entertainment in the form of Halo II, so Shelly is free to do her happy dance without fear of ridicule. “Woohoo!” she yells, kicking her legs in a sickly imitation of an Irish jig. Thank you, God, for this validation!

Plopping back onto the warmed vinyl barstool, Shelly takes a cleansing breath and tears into the second envelope. A glimmer of hope begins to waver within her, like the first sparks of a campfire that have yet to be fanned into flame. Victory! She pumps her fist into the air as the enormous weight of senior year research papers and finals float up to the ceiling – through it, even, up to the heights of heaven, where God waits with a catcher’s mitt at the ready.

Short Story

Monday at Eleven

Shelly stares at the eggshell wall of her dorm room, seemingly mesmerized by a series of miniscule cracks, her nails clicking on the edge of her laptop keyboard like a pair of high heels down a tile hallway. Her laundry day ensemble, pink sweats and a ponytail pulled halfway through, makes her look prepubescent, even though she is now a senior at Northwestern. Her Mac’s blank screen glows in the mirror of her eyeglasses, distracting her, if not visually, then at least mentally. She groans, forcing her gaze back to the screen and tapping out a possible title for her history research paper. The tapping continues while she deletes the title and types a new one, as if she needs the title to continue, like an artist needs his muse.

It’s not writer’s block that keeps Shelly’s creativity caged, but rather, a pure lack of motivation. For three years she has poured every ounce of her energy into this school, giving up road trips with friends to study for exams, and foregoing a dating life in order to maintain her 4.0 GPA. For three years she has lived over a thousand miles away from her family in Denver. And for what? She has been counting the days until graduation (one hundred and eighty-eight), but it suddenly seems as if her whole world is falling apart. She is failing one of her classes, and overall her GPA has been steadily slipping over the last year, gaining backwards momentum like a cartoon snowball rolling down a mountain. Her writing group has squeezed her out, and last week she was punished by the school’s administration for an infraction she unwittingly committed. Who knew that it was considered plagiarism to have three words in a paper that exactly matched another source? Three words!

Now Shelly is going to be in even bigger trouble with her grades. She has exactly fifty-nine minutes until her paper is due. The paper that, as of yet, doesn’t even have a title. She heaves a huge sigh and resumes her inspection of the spider webbing cracks on the opposite wall. The weird thing is, her decision to attend Northwestern and major in Journalism was God’s idea. At least, she had thought so at the time. She had been so sure that this was God’s will in the beginning, and her initial scholastic success seemed to second the motion. But now…she isn’t sure anymore whether this is where she belongs. How long do you pursue your dreams, she wonders, before giving in to what circumstances seem to be telling you?

A sidelong glance at her Hello Kitty alarm clock tells Shelly that her time is almost up, she now has forty-two minutes to write this paper that is worth forty percent of her semester grade. She can feel tears stinging her eyelids like hundreds of tiny wasps. Why am I here, God? Is this really what you want for me? Why would something that’s Your will be so difficult? Have I really sacrificed these three years with my family only to fail now?

Tears drip like drops of rain onto Shelly’s lap as she prays, wishing that God would speak the answers to her out loud like He used to for Moses and Samuel. Beethoven’s Fifth interrupts her thoughts, dancing gaily from her cell to signal the thirty minute mark of her deadline. She wipes her eyes and nose with an aloe-infused Kleenex and returns her attention to the moonlight glow of her laptop screen. Heaving a deep sigh, Shelly resigns herself to addressing the present challenge, and once again begins tap, tap, tapping on the keyboard like Poe’s raven.

Life Cycle

My classmates told me I should write a poem about this, but my brain is too tired to be clever, so I think I'll blog instead.

Why is that whenever I get a cold, I get bronchitis? And why is it that when I get bronchitis, I tend to get pneumonia? And why is it that this cycle of sickness always occurs during midterms and finals?!

The world of science would say that, due to a combination of my decreased immune system (thank you, MS) and irritable airways (thank you, asthma), I am physically susceptible to complications such as bronchitis and pneumonia. Spiritual fanatics might say that the devil is attacking me in an attempt to thwart God's plans for my life. Bible thumpers (don't worry, we like to be called that) would say that God is testing my faith by allowing me to undergo trials.

Me? I say this is just proof of my dad's favorite adage, "Life's a *bleep*, and then you die." Life sucks. I mean really. Sickness, poverty, murder, heartache, who needs it?

Have you ever tried to threaten your kids with death? (Sorry, too tired to come up with a good segue.)

"If you don't wear your seatbelt and I get into a car accident you could die."

I have tried this approach on my kids, and let me tell you, it does not work. "Sweet," they answer, "then I get to go to heaven, which is waaaay better than this place." Great. The college honor student is outsmarted by a seven year old. How embarrassing.

The fact is, sometimes this life does suck. The good news is that those of us who believe in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ have hope. Hope that this life will soon pass away and be replaced by an eternity in God's presence. "Just a few more weary days and then, I'll fly away" (Albert E. Brumley).

Oh, and for the record, my life is truly blessed (bronchitis notwithstanding). I have a God who can move mountains, and a husband and four kids who love Him and me.

Train a Child in the Way They Should Go

Ashley, my ten-year-old, just finished making a loaf of banana bread - with no help from me. The best part is, she put the ingredients away as she went, so that there was no mess left on the counter when she was done. Anyone that knows Ashley knows that clean-up is less a part of her vocabulary than birth control is of mine. The only explanation for her kitchen cleanliness is that it's the result of careful training on my part. (So they really DO listen when I speak. Amazing.)

Proverbs 22:6(NIV) tells us, "Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it." This proverb applies to practical matters, like me teaching Ashley to clean up after herself while cooking, but even more so to spiritual matters.

Some of the conversations I have with my sister about spiritual matters still shock me. It has been years since she used to spend time every summer with me, but now when she speaks it's as if she is parroting my exact words. Words from years past that I had spoken to her, and thought for sure were just using her eardrums as a jumping board to their next stop.

Today, watching Ashley do something so completely against her nature, I was reminded of the power that we wield as mothers, mentors, friends. Whether or not we can visibly see it, our words and actions impact those around us. The results may not become apparent until years later, but we have to trust that when we are sowing God's seeds they do not fall on unfertile ground.

So, consider how you are training your children. Are you teaching them what is important, how to have a relationship with God, how to be unselfish, how to take responsibility for their actions? Or, are you only teaching them how to be competitive in sports and how to keep nagging until they get their own way? Remember, it is not only our intentional teaching that affects the people around us, but our inadvertant words and actions as well.

In Everything But God we Trust

Notice anything wrong with the title of this post? It should read, "In God we Trust." That would be more appropriate, but unfortunately, not as true.

As a practicing Christian I often profess my trust in God to provide for my family, for everything from our daily bread and the house we live in, to our level of health and happiness. I really do believe that God provides all of our needs. Recently, however, this trust has been put to the test. And I'm afraid my score is nothing to brag about.

A few weeks ago we had a health scare with my husband, Matt. Doctors worried that he might have a problem with his heart, so he was put under the care of a cardiologist and run through a gamut of tests, including an invasive heart cath. After all was said and done he was diagnosed with a minor condition (heart palpitations) and put on a daily medication to help control it.

At the time, however, we were looking at the possibility of a more serious condition that may have required surgery. Surprisingly, I wasn't very worried about Matt's health. Having been diagnosed with a serious medical condition myself, I have experienced firsthand the provision of God in this particular arena.

No, it wasn't Matt's health I worried about, it was his job. We are a single income family, and in addition, rely heavily on the medical insurance that his military job provides (my medications alone cost thousands of dollars each month). There was a lot of concern over his condition from management during this health scare. He was removed from the flying program (there goes $150/month), and there was even talk of him having to go before a medical board where he would be at risk of being forced to separate from the Air Force.

Panic. We are in the middle of building a $40,000 addition to our home. We have two car payments. I still have two years of school left, and even then, I have physical limitations that will likely keep me from working a traditional job. I'll never be able to get medical insurance with my pre-existing conditions. How will we afford my medications?

Sound like trust in God to you? Nope, me neither. Seems more like trust in my husband's job than anything. I know that it is God who provides for us, and that Matt's job is just a vessel for that provision, but I still panicked nonetheless.

I am reminded of George Mueller, who supported entire orphanages with nothing but the power of prayer. If they needed food for the next day, he prayed for it. If they needed money for something specific, he prayed for it. Day after day, month after month, year after year, if George Mueller had a need, he had only to ask God and it would be provided.

Okay. Now I'm re-centered. God is my provider, not Matt's job. I know that if Matt loses his job I can still trust in God to provide for our family, even if I don't know what form that provision will take. Phew! Brought that C- up to a solid B on my "In God we Trust" test. I'm good to go. Or so I think.

Fast forward a couple of weeks and I am faced with another test: difficulty attaining medications. Most notably, the anti-narcoleptic medication, the one that keeps me awake during the day, was denied by our insurance company. Ahhh! What to do? Panic, of course.

I need that medication to stay awake while driving. I can't possibly keep up with school and my busy schedule without it. Seriously, falling asleep in class here.

I ask for prayer - that this issue will be resolved. Again, I'm trusting, not in God, but in the medication, to keep me running strong. Another test, another low score. Obviously I'm a slow learner.

Maybe it will help if I start chanting, "In God we Trust," under my breath. A continuous mantra to keep me focused on the true Source of my provision. Maybe.

Prioritizing a Busy Life

Well, it's that time of year again. When we vow to stop smoking, start exercising, and by golly, lose that extra weight that's stalked us for the last decade. Trouble is, everyone knows that New Years' resolutions don't make it past that insurmountable wall that is February. We can only take so many weeks of staving off hunger pains with salad and fruit before we lose our willpower and dive headfirst into that pan of brownies.

Another problem I have with New Years' resolutions, besides that they are impossible to keep, is that our resolutions seem to be so petty in relation to the master plan we call life. Is losing ten pounds really going to change your life? Is it going to change you? Now, don't get me wrong, I understand that losing weight can be a matter of health for many of us, and that it affects the confidence of virtually all of us. Eating healthier and getting more exercise are important goals. However, I challenge you to consider making changes in areas of your life that are more consequential. How about eliminating negative speech? Can you imagine the lasting impact that would have on your relationships, especially in your marriage? Or what about going on an electronic diet? Limit your television and computer time, and replace it with reading, playing board games with your kids, or something active like running.

Personally, I have decided to tackle my nemesis - Time Management. From what I can tell, nearly all of us are tormented by this particular villain. Between jobs or school, husbands and children, homes to keep up, extended family commitments, etc., many of us can barely keep track of what day it is. The best we can do is say, "Oh, today we have writing club, dance, and night classes - it must be Tuesday." At least for me, it's time to jump off this carnival ride and reorder my life.

I have always had a policy that we should have one evening a week and one day a weekend that is spent at home. This helps to insure that we: 1.Get a chance to rest, and 2. Spend some time together as a family. Since I started school full time and the kids all became old enough to participate in activities like baseball, volleyball, and dance, this policy has flown out the window. I don't purposefully schedule things every day, but, for example, when I signed Andrew up for basketball I didn't realize they would have practices and games on both Saturdays and Sundays. Add in what I already had scheduled, gymnastics Saturday morning and church on Sunday, and there go our weekends. The same happens during the week. I don't schedule activities for Thursday nights, but three out of four weeks I will end up with something. A meeting one week, a practice another, and the kids' school concert thrown in for good measure.

I propose list-making as step one in the fight against busy-ness. You can organize your list into categories if your a type-A personality like I am, or just free-flow if that's your style. I already know which categories are most important, and which order they go in. My problem is that I have too many entries within each category. So here goes. I have to decide what my top priorities are with regards to church, family, and school, and some things are not going to make the cut. Will you take the plunge with me?

Merry Incarnation!

I opened up my computer this morning and jumped on facebook with the intention of posting the following status update: 5 loads of laundry, 4 baths to give, 3 kinds of cookies, 2 families to wrap for, and a turkey in the oven. (Now read it again, but this time sing it!)

Festive, right? And a fun way for me to vent about my busy day. Before I posted, however, I took a quick glance at my friends' posts from this morning. I skimmed over gift updates and holiday wishes before screeching to a halt in front of this post:

"The greatest man in History, Jesus, had no servants, yet they called Him Master, had no degree, yet they called Him Teacher, had no medicines, yet they called Him Healer, had no army, yet kings feared Him, won no military battles, yet He conquered the world, committed no crime, yet they crucified Him... He was buried in a tomb, yet He lives today. Repost if you believe in your heart HE is the REASON for the SEASON"

Wow. Talk about a reality check. Christmas isn't about my busy day. It's not even about spending time with family, although that is one of the perks. Christmas is a celebration of Jesus' birth. The birth of a man who changed the world, giving his life in exchange for ours.

Needless to say, rather than posting my version of "The Twelve Days of Christmas," I copied and posted the quote about Jesus. Enjoy your time off work. Enjoy being with your family. You can even enjoy exchanging gifts with your loved ones. But please don't forget to celebrate the babe whose birth was heralded by an angel of the Lord:

"I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you, he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger" (Luke 2:10-12).

Merry Incarnation!

The Hard Way

Wow. It's been more than three months since my last post. I have been claiming busy-ness as my excuse for lack of blog update, but there is another, possibly more prominant reason. Growing up, my mommy always told me, "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all." Wise words on her part. So wise in fact that I repeatedly pass this nugget on to my own kids. The problem is, I have been waiting for three months to have something nice to say, and it's just not happening. So, in order to break my blog-less streak, and to appease my nagging readers (you know who you are), I have decided to break the nice code and just write the truth - the not so nice.

The truth is, I feel like me life is totally out of control right now. I have just finished an extremely difficult semester of school. My MS and Fibromyalgia medications ran out during Thanksgiving weekend and I am still wading through the red tape to get them reinstated. Not only that, but I have medical bills piling up, bills that should be covered by my insurance company but for some reason are getting turned down. I am TIRED. Without my meds to keep me awake I find myself falling asleep several times a day. Come to think of it, I can probably blame this for my unimpressive grades. It's difficult to write a coherent research paper when one is drooling on one's laptop. Talk about doing things the hard way.

And let's not forget the ......zzzzz...... Oops, sorry. I just nodded off. Anyway, let's not forget my "for the record" complaint: We are so busy! Full time military husband, full time student mom, and four kids with school, church, and extracurricular activities. People tell me they don't know how I do it, and I answer them, "I don't either." I'm pretty sure our schedule is physically impossible to keep up with, and yet I still try to. Talk about doing things the hard way.

Now imagine the toll this physical and emotional stress has taken on my relationships. Matt and I are more like verbal sparring partners than life partners. Neither of us can keep up with our work load so we look to each other for support, only to find we are looking into an endless mirrored image of our own demands. I cannot remember the last time I went out with a friend. Melissa? Stacy? Anyone? And worst of all, my relationship with God is on shaky ground. Talk about doing things the hard way.

I am tired. I am sore. My life is too busy. I may as well be marooned on Ascension Island without a cell phone for all the time I spend on relationships right now. So what's the big issue here? How do I get from where I am to where I should be?

My head answers clearly, jumping up and down with her hand waving in true brown-nosing fashion, "Read your Bible, pray, let the joy of the Lord be your strength."

"Easy for you to say," my heart answers back. Always the pessimist, my heart has trouble believing that which she cannot see.

I know that I am blessed with a husband who loves God and provides for his family. I know that I am blessed with four awesome kids. I know that we have a nice house and a full pantry. And yet I'm still tired. I'm still too busy. And right now God feels like one of those distant cousins that I have heard about but never got to know (until facebook came along - love you, Diane!).

I guess I just need me some Jesus time. The rest will fall into place. This I know from experience. And soon (hopefully) I will have something to share that is "nice," so I can speak without guilt.

New Story: "Redemption"

Here is another short story to check out:

"Redemption"

Don't Be Afraid

I had to take Ashley to the doctor today to address a persistent cough/cold. Since we were at the clinic for her appointment I thought it was a good time for the two of us to get our flu shots. Of course Ashley vehemently disagreed.

Those of you that know Ashley well know that she can be a drama queen at times - she must get that from her father. ;) Last year we took all of the kids at once for their flu shots, and let me tell you, Ashley threw the mother of all fits when her turn came to be stuck. She was nine-years-old and the girl was throwing an all-out, screaming, kicking tantrum. It took Matt, the nurse, and the doctor to pin her down for the shots. Meanwhile I had to take the other kids into the waiting room, where the screaming still echoed so loudly that the little girls were leaking traumatized tears.

This afternoon, upon hearing the flu shot news, Ashley’s hysterical twin threatened to resurface. The doctor put her in her place with a generous helping of guilt, however, reminding Ashley that if everyone didn’t get their flu shots then Mommy would get really sick (MS – defective immune system – you get the picture).

The guilt trip worked to keep Ashley from freaking out, but she was still fighting tears when we left the clinic. I know the shot only hurts for a few seconds so I understood that her tearfulness was more a result of residual fear than pain. We talked about her fear on the way home. I explained to her that, yes, I know the shot hurts, but you just have to grit your teeth and bear it for the few seconds the pain lasts – and rest assured that it won’t last long.

A few hours later I found myself giving the same speech to my baby sister who is currently immersed in one of those painful seasons of life where everything seems to be falling apart. You know that season – where the trials of life overwhelm you; the one that eventually leads to immense spiritual growth and maturity. Painful. My sister is understandably afraid of how things are going to work out. She feels powerless against her circumstances.

I even found myself fighting off fear a few days ago. Matt came home one evening and told me about a friend of ours, whose mother has Multiple Sclerosis. She is probably around fifty-years-old and is barely able to move. The only way she can get around at all is through the use of a motorized wheelchair. That is scary! When I am her age Alyssa will barely be graduating from college.

One of the leading causes of premature death for people with MS is suicide. Many people are so overcome with fear over the advancement of their disease that they prefer to end their lives rather than face that fear.

Sometimes people express incredulity over my lack of concern for my future. The truth is, it is easy to become overwhelmed with fear if we dwell on the things we are afraid of – like shots, financial insecurity, or even the effects of a disabling disease. But being afraid doesn’t accomplish anything.

I can’t imagine being so paralyzed that I am unable to care for myself, and frankly, I don’t want to imagine it. Five years ago I would never have imagined that I could raise four kids while living with MS. I never would have believed that I would have to give myself daily shots or learn how to self-cath, yet here I am. I just grit my teeth and bear it, and before I know it, these new obstacles have become part of my daily routine. Things that I was once afraid of turn out to be not as bad as I thought they would be.

What’s the secret? I have a living hope in Jesus Christ. I have seen God’s faithfulness in carrying me through each obstruction, and I believe that He will continue to carry me through each new hurdle as it comes.

Psalm 91:1-2 is my mantra, “He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, ‘He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.’”

Here are a few lines (copied from an e-mail forward, author unknown) that put things in perspective:

1) I asked God to make my handicapped child whole.
-----God said, “No. His spirit is whole, his body is only temporary.”
2) I asked God to grant me patience.
-----God said, “No. Patience is a byproduct of tribulations; it isn't granted, it is learned.”
3) I asked God to spare me pain.
-----God said, “No. Suffering draws you apart from worldly cares and brings you closer to Me.”
4) I asked God for all things that I might enjoy life.
-----God said, “No. I will give you life, so that you may enjoy all things.”

God is faithful – and this world, this life, this body is temporary. Don’t be afraid.

Perseverance Pays Off

My brother recently posted this comment on facebook: “I hate getting used to waking up early. I also don't like it when I sleep in too late.” This comment may seem ambiguous to some, but it makes perfect sense to me.

It must be a family trait but I HATE to get up in the morning. It is literally painful for me. When I am first awaken to the sound of my four banshees I feel as if I have to fight my way up against Jupiter’s gravity, which is 2.36 times stronger than ours. After a half hour or so of physically struggling to lift myself up, and sometimes a little crying, “Just ten more minutes, Mom!” I finally manage to pull myself upright. A short stumble to the bathroom is followed by a longer stumble to Kitchen Utopia, the land of coffee and uppers. The strange thing is once I get up and get moving (and start my caffeine IV) I start to feel better. By nine o’clock I almost feel…gasp! Human!

Once I am transformed back from a pumpkin, I have a full day ahead of me to accomplish things. And of course, any student/mother-of-four/military wife, can understand how important it is to have that time to use rather than wasting it in lolling in bed. Like my brother I don’t like to get up early, but even more than that, I don’t like to sleep in too late and waste my day.

I experienced this lesson in a different way when I attended a meeting at Creighton earlier this evening. The girl next to me was feeling a little stressed as she navigated her way back into the hectic schedule of a full-time student after what I assume (for a traditional student) was a summer of part-time work and plenty of play. As she spoke to me I realized that I couldn’t relate. I wasn’t feeling stressed about the start of the semester. In fact, I kind of feel like I’m on vacation right now. Five classes, four kids, magazine staff member…what part of this screams vacation?

The truth is, two weeks before the fall semester began I was taking a super-accelerated class while the kids were still home on summer break. My homework took several hours EVERY DAY, and I had to do it with four noisemakers circling around me like buzzards who smell fresh road kill. After that kind of trial, the start of this semester is a relief to me. My classes are moving at a much, much slower pace, and I get to do my homework in silence. Hallelujah!

My unwillingness to crawl out of bed in the morning and my torturous five weeks of summer school share a common lesson. Sometimes life is hard, but if we persevere good things will come from the hard times. Waking up is hard for some of us, but having the entire day available to accomplish things is bliss. Summer school with kids at home is hard, but a more relaxed schedule and a little quiet time is bliss. The point is, we can’t enjoy the good stuff without first pushing through the hard stuff.

James 1:2-3, 12
Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance…Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love Him.