Footprints on the Fridge

Summer Reading

The summer book study is underway at Elizabeth's and we're getting back to our roots.  So if you haven't already visited Simply Charlotte Mason and downloaded their FREE e-book Education is...you'd better hurry on over there and do so! Don't get behind on your summer reading.

This introduction to Charlotte Mason's ideas is based on one of my favorite quotes from her, "Education is an atmosphere, a discipline, and a life."  What I love about this study of that idea is the emphasis on the fact that one of these factors alone is not enough.  It takes all three to form our children properly--the atmosphere created by the principles that govern us as parents, the discipline of character training that we carry out in our homes, and the life of thought and ideas to which we introduce our children.

The first of this tripod that we consider is the atmosphere.  Six points are developed as we think through what Charlotte Mason spoke of when she used the term "atmosphere"

• Children should grow up in a natural home setting, not an artificial, adapted "child environment." (Education Is, 10)  Now Charlotte Mason was talking to families in England who appointed lovely little nurseries and sequestered the children there under the watchful eye of the nanny or the governess while home life was carried on by adults somewhere far away.  This is clearly not a challenge for most of us.  However, it is good for me to be reminded that my home life needs to be a complete picture of being engaged with the children and their education and running a home that does all the things a home should do--one that nurtures the adults who live in it as well as the children, one that welcomes friend and stranger alike, one whose door opens to the world beyond and shuts to the tight circle of family as life leads.  If I allow the fact that so many children live here to be the excuse for why things are poorly kept, poorly planned, or poorly run, I have falsely adapted the environment to them.  Charlotte Mason was advocating that children be welcomed into the adult sphere of the home so that they could be nourished by the richness of that environment, not so that the environment could be forsaken because of their presence.  It is my job to maintain the atmosphere of "home" with my kids as an active presence in it, not a home where I have despaired to bring order and comfort because the sheer number of little ones makes it difficult.
• We must be careful how we live, because our children pick up attitudes and ideas from us that will affect the rest of their lives.  Well, there's an examination of conscience at the end of the day--what ideas and attitudes have my kids witnessed in me today?  Have I influenced them for good?  What can I do to reinforce the good and wash away the bad tomorrow?  In a Catholic home, it is most important that we live in such a way that our kids know without a doubt that holiness is our path and heaven is our goal.  And when they witness us stray from that path, it is doubly important that they see repentance, mercy, and the faithful return to the journey.  There are so many attitudes and ideas we hope our kids will glean from their life on our home, but of all of them, the pursuit of heaven through holiness is most important.  Charlotte Mason said our attitudes would excite in our children "a vague appetancy" toward something--I hope my children are hungry for heaven.
• The atmosphere of our homes is formed out of the ideas  that rule our lives as parents.  There is no getting over the fact that our homes will reflect what's important to us and that those ideas will be like the very "air" of our kids lives.  It will be part of them before they are aware even that it exists.  Have you ever stepped into a place and gasped quietly at the holiness that surrounded you?  Without seeing a person or hearing word spoken, but just in the atmosphere around you, there was holiness.  That's my goal for our home.  I bet it was like that in Therese Martin's home.  And I hope it will be in mine.
• Atmosphere is only part, not all, of a child's education.  We must give the discipline of good habits and the living ideas of a generous curriculum.  Our next book study will be all about the discipline of good habits and we are working on creating a generous curriculum of living ideas for Serendipity next fall.  But I think something worth mentioning here is that the people who questioned the notions of atmosphere mentioned here were intuiting that the pursuit of the perfect atmosphere was a single-pronged goal, when in truth, it is part of a much bigger picture.  But it is a valid part, and there is atmosphere either way.  Our kids breathe the air of our home, whatever it is.  Seeking order, comfort and loveliness is our way of insuring that the air they breathe is of the highest quality.  We take the life-giving air of our faith and filter out any allergens and pollutants that may have gathered in it so that what our families breathe is pure and healthy.
• The atmosphere of home should encourage freedom under authority and obedience.  Well, I'll be chewing on that one for a while. 

                Charlotte Mason wrote: "But due relations must be maintained; the parents are in authority,the children in obedience; and again, the strong may not lay the burdens on the weak; nor must we expect from children that effort of decision, the most fatiguing in our own lives, of which the young should generally be relieved." (quoted in Education is, 13)

                 I know we'll talk more about this one later, but initially, I think it is a noble and beautiful thing to think on obedience as a gift we give our children.  We carry the burden of authority.  We shoulder the worry and concern over their moral, spiritual, physical, and intellectual development.  We shudder at the influences we strive to shut out while they continue on, blissfully unaware.  These burdens are not theirs to shoulder.  It is obedience that frees them to be children.  When we leave them to decisions that are our own to make or leave room for negotiation, or worse yet, give in to the tyranny of their emotional reactions, they are not happier--they are fretful, confused, and anxious.  Obedience is not a demand we make on poor unsuspecting creatures, it is a gift we give the ones we love, the gift of a free childhood, consumed with childish thoughts and dreams and imaginings, not the cares and concerns of the adult world.

Well, keep reading.  Summer has just begun!

            

Like Coming Home

The first homeschooling friend I ever made, I've never actually met.  She's from England.  And she lived her life to its full way before I was even born.  Her name is Charlotte Mason. 

You see, about eight years ago, I had a two and half year old child and was pregnant with a second.  A good friend announced that he was getting married and would be moving away.  He invited us to lunch to meet his then fiancee.  This was no chance meeting.  This was one of those moments in life that you never know the weight of and can never fully count the blessings from.  I was mesmerized by the description of this school principal's guiding philosophy and by her plan to build a school that fully espoused this philosophy and to one day build a network of such schools.  A few days later, a package containing this arrived in the mail from Mary Ellen.  It was a gift that has never quit giving.  I drank up its ideas and chewed its content as a most satisfying feast.  I couldn't stop thinking about it.  I started searching online for information about homeschoolers using this philosophy.  And I found this.  Okay, not really that but its ancestor.  We've been at this for a while now, some things have changed.

As a young mom, still in the preschool years, I gleaned so much encouragement from the conversations there, from women I grew to respect and admire in so many ways.  And I gained a circle of support.  Just as my oldest was approaching kindergarten and I was finally ready to embark on our homeschooling journey, God sent us a surprise.  First, we embraced a call to foreign mission service, sold our home and our possessions, and moved, first to a mission base and then to a little island in the Southern Caribbean.  And, we welcomed our third son into the world just seven weeks before we left the country.  September found us not at the library gathering up armfuls of living books as I had expected, but far away from home in a new world, with only what would fit in five suitcases.  And yet, my conviction that this was the best way to educate my child stayed firm, and the support of those online friends remained.

And so I spent my evenings in the Caribbean devouring this book that had just been released and cheering for joy that Elizabeth had done such a wonderful job taking what was a perfect philosophy for me and letting me see a very real picture of it.  And of convincing me that my life as a missionary was not mutually exclusive with a Charlotte Mason education for my child.  And so we began to spend our mornings in the Caribbean praying and learning: devouring the few books we were able to bring along, working out of our Math workbooks (Singapore Math from Singapore because that's how little I knew what I was doing : ) and learning to read.  We worked hard at life, and we rewarded ourselves with frequent trips to the incredible beaches, where we wrote letters in the sand, counted waves, and spotted some of God's most beautiful creation.  At Christmas, when Granny and Pops came to visit, we asked for more books.  They brought some of these. 

The next few years led us to two more mission posts, another in St. Vincent and the Grenadines, and one in Costa Rica: those trips included a fourth pregnancy, a stint teaching and learning in a bilingual school, and trips back and forth to the States.  Then, just before the birth of that fourth baby, we decided to return to life in the States.  We rented a house, and not knowing what our income situation would be, enrolled our oldest in the local Catholic school.  A week later, Katrina devastated the lives of most of our family members and we spent a month living it with them.  Then Hurricane Rita took its toll on our neck of the woods and by the time its aftermath had cleared, we were welcoming a baby into the world.  And then four months later moving into the home we purchased, and four months after that, another baby on the way.  And then the decision to bring the boys back home for school followed shortly after. 

In the midst of all these changes, the aforementioned book list was our constant friend.  Wherever life took us, we referred to it often for inspiration and found it.  It was our constant, as were the ladies at 4real.

In August, I geared up for the school year by manipulating an in-person meeting with my long-time online friend Cay.  I brought Alice in on the action, and the next you know I was planning a weekend get-together.  And that was where I shared these thoughts about learning in a Charlotte Mason lifestyle.  I've reread them a lot lately.  I've thought about the ideas we embraced and the changes we made when we fell head over heels into Serendipidity.  I have thanked God over and over for the fact that Virginia lies between Louisiana and Pennsylvania, and a dinner stop and a face-to-face meeting were the beginning of a blessed friendship.  And, as I promised, I prayed a lot.  And I realized that while I took some invaluable gifts from all the experimentation and discovery this year, I missed my old friend a bit.  She has still been around, but the learning room has been a bit crowded, I think.  She is my oldest friend on this homeschooling adventure, Miss Mason.  I know her best and she suits me most.  And I wanted to sit with her over a cup of tea--like old times.  Then conversations about plans for next year began in earnest with Elizabeth and some very inspiring friends.  And without any prompting from me, this happened. 

As it turns out, I think we were all ready for a visit with our old friend Miss Mason--ready to soak up her wisdom once again, ready to put habit and character training in the foremost position in our homes, and ready to drink deeply of living ideas and fresh air.  And so I have found that the Spirit has led me back to my homeschooling roots, not to a wider picture of what education in my home can be, but to the original picture, the one that stayed the course with us through what has been a very wild ride.  As I reread my own thoughts in those earlier posts, I hear my own voice, tried and true, firm with conviction and enflamed with excitement.  It sounds good to me.  It feels comfortable. 

In years past, life has carried us far away from what we knew well, and I have held onto a little golden nugget the whole way, guarding it safely, because I wanted my children to have it no matter where life took us.  And then this year, the first year where we were in our own home, in our own country, without any major upheaval, that little nugget was placed safely on the learning room table while we sorted through new gems.  We didn't have the need to choose only one thing to take along on our journey.  We weren't limited in the amount of bags we could fill.  And fill them we did.  And some of our new finds were wonderful.  But in all honesty, it's time for a little decluttering--in our philosophy, that is.  And when I begin to pare down and decide what I really can't part with, it's that well-traveled treasure I choose, the wisdom of my first teacher, Miss Mason.

I have been planning up a storm.  And reading.  And having tea.  And I have loved every minute of it.  I feel like I've traveled farther this year when I had nowhere to go than I did in all those other years when I was so far away.  And while I enjoyed all the new faces and places, it feels good to come home, and to find an old friend and a cup of tea waiting.   

Shortcut to Holiness

In the car on the way to his sleepover at Granny, I was having a conversation with Brendan.

Me: "You're a sweet boy, you know that."

Him: "Yep."

Me: "And I want you to be a holy boy too.  Do you know how you become a holy boy?"

Him: "Yep."

Me: "You listen in your heart to know what Jesus wants you to and then you pray for the grace to do it.  And if you need help, you call on your mother Mary to help you."

Him: "I thought I already was holy."

Me: "Well, the sacraments make us holy, but we have to keep trying to grow in holiness every day."

Him: "No, I thought I was holy because I drink the holy water at Church all the time!"

As funny as that is, if I thought it might work, I'd consider it myself.

Simply Lovely Rosaries

Do check out the Simply Lovely Rosary Fair over at Sarah's place today.  It is a truly inspiring read for the month of May.

The Simple Woman's Day Book

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Outside My Window ... Pounding rain nourishes my little garden sprouts.

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I am thinking ... about how to catch up on housework today.

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I am thankful for ... living in a small town where people want to know your name.

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From the kitchen ... cinnamon rolls for breakfast, chicken and spaghetti for dinner.

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I am wearing ... one of Greg's long-sleeved t-shirts and pajama pants.

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I am creating ... school plans for next year.

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I am going ... to a sneak preview of Prince Caspian with my brother and his family tonight.

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I am reading ... the L.M. Montgomery books, Holiness for Housewives..

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I am hoping ... for my husband to get good news regarding business today.

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I am hearing ... the rain slowing down, Greg's first footsteps this morning.

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Around the house ... so very much to do that has been left undone.

One of my favorite things ... morning coffe with creme brulee creamer.

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A Few Plans For The Rest Of The Week: The first fencing class at a new location for Quinn, my nephew's high school graduation, and a trip to New Orleans for a 16th birthday party.

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Here is a picture thought I am sharing ...

See the other Simple Women's Daybooks.  Thanks, Peggy, for such a neat way to share our days with one another!

My Heavenly Mother-in-Law

Recently a friend and I were talking over some things we needed to find a way to communicate to our husbands.  We both agreed there was just no way we would be able to reach his heart the way and be heard the way we needed to be heard, the discussion would center on the wrong thing, go the wrong direction, and inevitably end up in misunderstanding.  I confessed that all we could was pray that our husbands' hearts would hear what needed to be said from a heavenly voice.

Besides these tough conversations that inevitably arise in marriage, there are also the requests, the needs that continually present themselves.  These men we call husbands are beloved.  We desire their happiness.  We are bothered when their burden is heavy and worried when they are tired or sick.  Sometimes we have no way to assuage the difficulties they face.  A warm meal and a sincere prayer is all that we can offer--and it is enough.

And then there are the moments of sheer joy, when love for that man overwhelms you and gratitude springs up like a fountain.  You want to rise up at the city gates and praise him.  Your house full of toddlers and preschoolers are happy to chant "Daddy" for a while, but they don't quite share in the outpouring of emotion you do.  So you pray in Thanksgiving.

Recently, I have smiled at a new notion of my relationship with my Blessed Mother.  I do not feel like I love the Blessed Mother from afar.  I feel like I really know her--that I have buried my head her shoulder and run to her embrace many, many times.  I know the feel of her mantle and the sound of her voice.  I feel the pain of her disappointed glances and the sweet joy of pleasing her.  We are mother and daughter.

And now I realize that it is the same for Greg.  See that little boy she's holding?  It's Jesus.  But it could just as easily be my husband or yours.  And she loves him the way she loves me: tenderly, with intimacy and maternal care.  I not only have a heavenly Mother, I have a heavenly Mother-in-Law!  She wants for her little boy even more grace than I do.  That heavenly voice I desire him to hear?  It's hers, and she wants to tell him what he needs to know.  That overflow of love I want to express, hers is a floodgate.  And so I have begun to give him to her, over and over again, every day, many times a day.  I give her his needs, his desires, his cares.  I give her our disagreements and our joys.  I give her his work and his play.  I let her be his mother, so that I can be his wife.

The Bible tells us that "a man shall leave his mother and cleave to his wife."  In order to take up headship in our families, our husbands let go of the comfort of their earthly mothers and trust us to fill in the gaps.  We are human and imperfect and bound to disappoint on occasion.  But his Heavenly Mother will never disappoint him, and we can fill up what is lacking in our own efforts with the grace she so readily disperses.

I have always loved to pray the rosary for the peace the repetition brings me.  It clears my head when my hands and mouth are busy and my thoughts are focused on Jesus.  I want to be better at praying the rosary every day, the way the Lovely Lady has asked so many times.  And now I have a new focus.  It my time to chat with my husband's Mother, to compare notes, share fears, concerns, joys, to get feedback, and background from someone whose known him longer than me.  My rosary is like tea-time with my Heavenly Mother-in-Law.

She shows me the life of her Son and I give her this son whom I love.  She takes him in her lap too, cuddles him close to his Saviour and does far more for him than I can do alone.  I am so grateful for that. 

Because Spring is too Short not to....

• lay beside your beloved in the warm grass and relish the fleeting breezes of a Louisiana spring
• walk out to the garden every morning and get goosebumps as tiny shoots poke their heads up from the soil
• learn to make homemade strawberry jam
• spend an afternoon fishing with cane poles and picking blackberries
• savor a surprise visit from a dear friend
• spend an evening wrapped in a quilt with Anne Shirley and Miss Lavendar as your companions
• picnic in the park for Mother's Day
• be a human jungle gym for your children
• cheer over new back-flipping trampoline skills acquired after much hard work
• spend Mother's Day in wonder of the gifts of your children, the miracle of who they are at present, the memory of who they once were, and the mystery of who they will become

We have drunk in a wonderful week of spring splendor, and I am grateful to be just who I am today!  Happy Mother's Day to you all.

Liturgical Tree: Pentecost and Ordinary Time

Here is a look at the Liturgical Tree right now.  Its Easter buds are almost all opened to leaves, and a little blue bird has perched herself in the branches to remind us that May is Mary's month.

Our Easter butterfly left us on Ascension and we began to build a nest for his successor.  We have added a brown twig and a bit of wool each day this week.

Pentecost Plans:

Our dove will appear in our nest and our tree will hold sixteen pink blossoms (one for each of the seven gifts and nine fruits of the Holy Spirit.)

I am basing my menu on ideas on these ideas shared by my favorite ladies.

We are having a grilled meat assortment (whatever is on sale!) and watching those tongues of fire as we grill!

Red salad: red potatoes, red cabbage, red onion, and spicy mayo.  It'll match the red shirts we'll all wear to Mass.

Fruits of the Spirit salad: I usually just find nine different fruits that will work, cut them up with some pound cake cubed up and then serve it with a little whipped cream on top.

In the evening will have Pentecost Sundaes (a tradition that was born last week when on the spur of the moment I brainstormed an Ascension Sundae--crushed Oreos on the bottom to represent the earth, heavenly hash ice cream, a cloud of whipped cream, and a Golden Oreo on top to represent Jesus' crown of victory).  Pentecost Sundaes will have vanilla ice cream, strawberry syrup, a whipped cream cloud, nut sprinkles (some people in the crowd thought the apostles were just that!), and strawberry (looks like a tongue of fire) dipped in melted Dove chocolate.

As we move into Ordinary Time, the sun in the corner of our Liturgical tree will begin to move across the frame to note the changing season.  Green grass will grow on the ground, representing the color of the season, and each of those pink buds wills open into a pink and white apple blossom.

As each flower opens, we will discuss one of the gifts or fruits of the Spirit and how it is present in our lives.

If we do one each week, it will take us to September, perfect timing for our blossoms to bear that favorite Fall fruit--apples.  More on that later!

Have a happy Mother's day everyone!

Kolbe is 1!

I can't believe that your first birthday has come and gone and you are a year old already.  Last year, I left home to go to the doctor feeling pretty sure it would be your birthday.  I also felt pretty sure I could leave my bag and your daddy at home and come back for them in the time between my appointment and the hospital.  As it turns out, I was instructed by the doctor not to go all the way home and not to eat anything because he was gonig to try to get the very next operating room.  I phoned  Daddy and arranged for him to meet me (I had to get him a ride too because I left home in one car with both sets of keys!).  And then I wondered what I should do with this snippet of time until you were born.  I stopped in the Adoration chapel, but I just couldn't be still and quiet for that long.  There was too much excitement.  It was just me and you....waiting together.  I opted for a pedicure!  I sat in the massage chair and rubbed my belly while it rubbed my back.  I painted my toes blue for your birth.  I didn't talk much at all.  I closed my eyes and felt the warm water, the relaxing rubbing, and waited for you.  As soon as I was done, my phone rang and the nurse instructed me to be at the hospital as soon as possible.  Shortly afterwards, you were born.  My easiest C-section yet.  Daddy, on the other hand, had not such an easy time.  A stomach bug made him queasy and he had to leave the delivery.  And he couldn't stay with us very long for fear of getting you sick.  So that evening I found myself once again in the quiet--just me and you.  I tried to soak you in as much as I could.  I worked to nurse you well and I bathed and dressed you.  

Just like that day, you have been throughout this year, my quiet pleasure, my "spa moment" in the midst of busy days.  Waking early with just you is my time to reflect, pray, and gather my thoughts for the day ahead.  Your presence somehow helps.  It gives purpose to my plans.  In the afternoon, when I make a cup of tea and stretch out across my bed for a few minutes, it is you who joins me.  I do my best to make you giggle.  Your laughter refreshes my spirit, gives me strength for the rest of the day.  In the evenings, as bath time progresses with a flourish of splashes and suds and wet towels, there is a quiet moment when a baby sits alone in just a little warm water, smiles and gently bats at the bubbles, then gets wrapped up, rubbed down, and tucked in.  Those last few moments of your day are precious to me.  They signal that my rest too has begun.  And it is you who relaxes me, melts away the day's aches, and makes me ready for my own evening routine.

Yesterday morning on your birthday, we were camping.  We headed out for a little hike before leaving.  We walked in a little way, and then sat at a beautiful spot while Daddy and the big boys walked further in.  Evan collected "pine worms" and placed them in the bottom of your stroller, and you sat.  Quietly you fingered leaves of bushes and pointed to butterflies, you babbled "mama" and sang your baby songs to me.  You never cried, never reached for me to pick you up.  You just sat with me, my quiet companion.  Your brother kissed you and stroked your hair and sang "Happy Birthday", and you listened.  He was grateful for your companionship too, someone else not old enough to be one of the big boys yet.

But all too soon you will be one of the big boys and you'll head off down the road further than I can follow.  And you bustle and jostle and emit rowdy shouts of companionship with your brothers.  I can't wait to see what role you play in the band of brothers one day, but I am eternally grateful for this year that you have been my quiet joy.  Happy Birthday, Kolbe Fisher!