Dear Davidson College,

I came to visit you recently.  I wanted to see what it felt like to walk the brick sidewalks, to smell the old hallways.  The days I remember best I spent in your musty library gazing out the window...just thinking...and studying.  I had late night conversations with friends while sharing pints of Ben and Jerry's ice cream sitting on your benches; it shaped my views and solidified some core of who I am today.  My professors let me ask questions over coffee or in their office, they were never too busy.   When I went to visit last week, I bounded up the stairs of Chambers building to the old auditorium in which I listened to my humanities lectures.  They were my favorite classes.  There I learned the big picture of history and ideas.  All the little pieces started to come together as professors from each department spoke to us.  It was there that I learned what I value most from Davidson College: to love to learn for the sake of learning alone.  My education until that point had been learning to produce, to pass a test, to fill in the writing formula, to get into college.  I had not realized it, but it had always been about the outcome rather than the process.  But at Davidson, my learning went from black and white to color; I learned to love learning.  I read significant writings, worked through pivotal ideas and realized how they had shaped and changed culture, in my chemistry class just as well as in my art history class.  It was the beginning of a new way to live.  Each day a day to learn, from books, from people...And so off I went to medical school.  And then to practice medicine, while still learning, still looking up various diseases, reading articles on new forms of treatment.  And then I became a parent and read even more books; books on child development, books on parenting.
Now I return to visit this warm place in my mind and I am sad to realize there is no real place for me here.  This old house, these relatives have no recollection of me.  Oh, this has nothing to do with age and stage.  There are many my age still welcomed heartily by your college.  It has to do with production.  You see, I took my love of learning and left a professional career to teach five small children.  I wanted them to love the sound of a well-written poem, to observe carefully with their eyes and try hard to draw the lines they see, to learn the truth and order of math as a building block.  I wanted them to love to learn, just as I had learned from you.  To begin their lives knowing that the learning is the thing, not the product.  But without my professional accolades, without a significant income to donate, without a speaking career or published product...I am just a ghost haunting the halls that were once mine.  It seems odd that while learning is cherished in an uncommonly good measure there, just like the rest of academia, production must be valued as well.  I am raising up your children though, another generation to love learning just as you taught me to do. I do wish there was still room for me on the bench.
Sincerely,
Me

Some days...

Some days William wakes up very happy.  He is busy talking to himself in the crib and we argue over who will get to interrupt his monologue and see his smile of joy first thing in the morning.  Other days, we find him quieter, or sometimes even demanding us to come and rescue him by name.  "DADDY!", he screams insistently.  On those mornings, he is fussy and clingy.  He wants what he wants, when he wants, and he demands in no uncertain terms that we are not to put him down, but to carry him around.  He clutches his sippy cup of milk and a shoulder and rides about the house.  On the "grumpy" mornings, we draw straws as to who will carry William and who gets to roam free to shower, dress and such for the day ahead.  As a fifth child, William gets some patience and grace that he doesn't even realize he's receiving.  You see, if he were my first or second child, I would be scared these grumpy mornings were signs of rampant selfishness, a monster that must not be fed or tolerated for one instant.  I would have been concerned to "give in" to his demands to be carried, to be held.  These grumpy mornings would have been red flags of danger in the midst of calm.  "My child?  Selfish and demanding?".  The truth is, after some years of mothering, now I know this young child is rampantly selfish.  Just like I am, just like his four siblings are that were born ahead of him.  These "grumpy mornings" are no surprise but evidence of the real thing, the monster inside us all.  And rather than being frightened by the selfish monster that we have to tame, I have found sometimes the best way forward is to love on it.  Sometimes being carried around with undeserved patience is exactly what will coax William into happiness again.  And aren't we all that way?  I can be full of self-pity, only aware of my own burdens...when the light of gift of kindness or an act of friendship will turn me around.  You brought me a cup of coffee?  You sent a card for no reason?  Thank you for your kindness; it moves me out of myself because I see the kindness of Jesus in your deed.  When we are surprised by kindness and grace we are able to climb out of the selfish tree and back down into the world.   And don't be surprised that some days we just need that more than others.

Hosea 11:4: I led them with cords of kindness, with the bands of love, and I became to them as one who eases the yoke on their jaws, and I bent down to them and fed them.

For me, it is easy to think that math and reading and writing...these are the things we "learn" to do.  I was good at this kind of "learning" in school.  It is hard to remember that there is a lot of life to be "learned" outside of books.  I was sharing with a friend how hard it has been for me to train our kids to do chores, to help clean and keep things orderly. I don't like the delegating, the follow through, the detailed teaching required.... I was wishing I was more like this friend, who naturally trains and delegates in all that she does around her home.  She stopped me and told me about how for her, it was teaching children from books that was difficult.  She spent many hours thinking through how her kids would learn best from books.  Teaching her kids to clean a bathroom, though, for her, was what came easily.   She reminded me that just as she had to work on the books, the academic learning...I need to work on the chores, the daily character training of practical work.  It was this "aha" moment for me...yes, it is all learning...just different types.  Some come easily, some do not...but it's all good work to be done.  Yesterday, Caroline had her first sewing lesson.  She loved it and I honestly did as well.  She is a careful thoughtful worker and it was good to realize she is ready for lots of "learning" outside of the classroom as an eight year old girl.  

A few vocabulary words to begin:
rainbrella (from Hannah):  what you use to shield yourself from getting wet in the rain
cheese grill (from John Mac): one of the best sandwiches ever....
All little kids have interesting words, but these two words have persisted despite years of correction....

A thought:
It is wrong to see pumpkins while there is humidity and you are breaking a sweat.  The smell of dry leaves really should accompany temperatures below eighty degrees.  Just as I was frustrated with the April snows in the great North, I am equally frustrated by the warm pumpkin weather down South!

A picture:
A little brother runs to take his big brother the bottle of gatorade he left in the car.  Big brother is in full baseball uniform and already throwing his practice throws.  Little brother runs so fast, leaves the bottle right at big brother's feet.  He returns to Momma quite pleased with a task accomplished.  He waits patiently through the game; runs around beneath bleachers, plays tag with friends.  Afterwards he is given a baseball hat from the coaches, an extra one they had...just like his big brother's.  He wears the red "NT" inscribed baseball hat the whole next day, sleeps with it at the top of his bed.  Imitation is the truest form of flattery.

Sister as Hero

Hannah has a hero and her name is Caroline.  Caroline is five years older than Hannah and it is so beautiful to watch the special place that her big sister has in Hannah's life.  Yesterday, while Caroline was at ballet, Hannah suddenly broke into tears, "I miss Caroline.  It isn't fun when she is gone."  Caroline paints Hannah's nails; Caroline fixes her hair almost every day (in colors and styles that no mother would think of).  Caroline encourages and distracts Hannah when she is sad and can always get her to stop crying.  Caroline is patient with Hannah and includes her in all that she does.  I watch with joy at their friendship, but I also realize I am missing out as a Momma.  You see, I was the one that thrilled Caroline when I painted her nails or braided her hair in a french braid.  I can remember how excited she was to have tea parties with me, to eat hotdogs with toothpicks on our back porch.  Hannah doesn't even know I can do these "fun things" because she is so busy having fun with her big sister.  There are many articles that talk about what a shaping influence siblings have on your life.  I am so thankful that Caroline is a beautiful shaping influence.  And I will wait and one day I hope I get to show her the fun side of Momma.

School Days

I think school decisions can be some of the hardest decisions parents make for their children.  They feel more powerful than the many small ones we make for our kids everyday.  (Although I think this is not really true...it's those thousand character shaping moments of yelling or patience, prayer or anxiety that probably really matter...).  We look ahead and see two roads diverging...and we must choose one.  This year we chose to homeschool, but I am far from a homeschool poster child. I wanted to place these pictures here to remember what I love about that road for us, at this point in life.  

First, Hannah in her bathing suit (dancing of course!).  Hannah has been wearing her bathing suit daily for about three weeks now.  It really bothers me, but I try to role with it, reminding myself she will not wear her bathing suit to college one day.  At night, we bathe Hannah, put on clean pajamas, tuck her into bed....and in the morning, we find her in her bathing suit.  She keeps it on for school.  Thankfully, we are able to accommodate this clothing request in our basement schoolroom.  She can be three years old, and well, the rest of us can enjoy Hannah being Hannah.

This is a picture of Henry reading to William and Hannah.  Henry loves books.  He started looking at them when he was nine months old, pulling them off shelves and pouring over the pages.  But reading has been slow and hard work for him.  Henry is finally starting to turn the corner, and I love to listen to him read to his younger siblings.  He loves being able to share a story with them now.  It has been good for Henry not to know if he is in the "blue reading group" or the "green reading group", etc.  He has been coming along at his own pace and it's a joy to see it come together finally.

Every year, we draw the same animals from the book Drawing with Children.  I love the book because it teaches you how to use straight lines and curves and dots, basic things, to slowly build a picture.  And because I wish I was an artist who could make beautiful things every day.  Anyway, back to drawing...we do the same pictures every year in the fall and compare them with the previous year.  Every year, our lines are stronger, the proportions are better....Well, John Mac has never been willing to try and draw with us.  He didn't like to color or pick up a pencil for any reason really.  This week he drew with us for the first time...and look!  So fun to see what you can do when you try.  We were all amazed at what we could do this year.  We sat for an hour with classical music in the background, drawing and coloring....and it was all that is good and beautiful about homeschooling.  

I won't show you any pictures of the day before this when William screamed for 30 minutes in the pack and play because I wouldn't give him a gumball.  And Hannah put play dough on the carpet.  And Caroline, my stable strong student simply cried on me over her math for no clear reason.  We all have our days, but it can be tough when we have them all together.  And it can be good, very very good.

Sometimes you just need....

A menu plan.
Nothing was going right today.  I was fuzzy-headed and tired, over-thinking and un-directed.  The second cup of coffee didn't help as I kept trying to move in a more straight path through my day.  But it wasn't working.  A friend found me.  I tried to explain the myriad of thoughts whirling in my brain, none of which added up to anything.  None were solid; all were the fuzzy sneers of Satan.  She listened, she was patient.  I ended by explaining the one clear example of my foggy day: "And when I went to plan meals for the family coming to visit us...I tried for all of nap time, with nothing."  So she pulled out the legal pad and pen and went to work.  And now I feel so much better.  I feel so loved.  And so ready for my friends to visit.  Thank God for the body of Christ, for friends that can practically love you when they know you don't make a lick of sense.