Undercurrents of Negativity

Over the last few days, I’ve read emails, facebook updates and have had actual face-to-face encounters with several women whom I haven’t been in touch with through the long winter months. I greeted them with the standard but heartfelt, “How are you?” and was sucked out to sea without a paddle by the strength of their negative undercurrent.

What are we supposed to do when someone asks us how we are and we feel like the Grim Reaper is right around the corner? Should we lie? No. It’s a commandment to not lie (and there are so few times that it is appropriate to lie, that I won’t even breach that topic). I believe the answer lies in an honest examination of our lives and how we are responding.

Years ago, a popular motivational poster reflected on the 10/90 principle: that 10% of our life is completely out of our control, but the other 90% is how we choose to react to that 10% event. It is, essentially, another take on the “is the glass half-full or half-empty” idea. Ask yourself these questions: When I’m late for an appointment, do I yell and people who slow me down? When I hear of a tragedy, do I pray for the victims or do I blame God for letting us down? When I’m struggling with frustration, finances, parenting, or my spouse, do I reflect on what everyone else is doing wrong, or do I examine my own responses?

If we are thirsty, a glass which is half-full will not be enough to satisfy us. The trick is to maintain a state of satisfaction. Here’s another question: What keeps your cup full? Time with family without stress? Time alone to read or write? Vacations? Daily prayer? That warm fuzzy feeling gained through positive experiences in a Christian community?

What empties your cup? Know what it is about your day, your work, or your family that is frustrating and try to respond to those situations differently. I almost wrote that we should avoid situations that drain our figurative cups, but I don’t believe that is the answer. God gives us challenges as much as He gives us blessings and we are to become better followers from both. We can’t change the fact that negativity will come to us, but we can stop our own pessimism from controlling us.

There is a woman at my church who responded to my “how are you?” with “Unbelievable!” I wasn’t sure if she meant unbelievably great or unbelievably terrible, so I asked. She laughed and told me it was terrible: her father was ill, her mother was in the throes of Alzheimer’s, her son was graduating from high school and she was struggling to do all the things a mom must do for those she loved. Her life was filled with challenges, and yet she was smiling it all off as a lesson to learn.

I hope that the next time someone asks me how I am, I am a conduit of optimism. I also pray for the fortitude to protect my own spirit the next time someone unloads their issues on my greeting. Perhaps I will take that person by the hands and pray for them right then and there.

Reaching Blindly

In my kitchen, I keep a large bowl of fruit on the counter to make the never-ending task of keeping my children satisfied easier. Not too long ago, before all of my daughters could see over the counter top in the kitchen, it was common that they would stretch out on their tip-toes, extend their arm over the rim on the big fruit bowl and reach for whatever was within reach. My oldest daughter prefers apples, middle girl is an orange fiend, and youngest daughter goes for bananas or nothing. Very often, the fruit bowl raids ended with the bowl tipped over and the fruit rolling across the floor; which is why we now have a plastic fruit bowl.

The girls knew that their reach into the bowl would yield some type of fruit, but they continued to dig until the right fruit was found. The same was true for me years ago when I was reaching for something to fill that empty feeling in my soul. I was fortunate enough in college to meet a group of very dedicated Christians who displayed a raw sense of happiness that was foreign to me. They delighted in companionship, read scripture, and never, ever missed a Sunday service (a new concept for me, who would try to sleep until noon to not have to go to mass). Seeing their gratification from God and how rich these people were in my life, I knew I wanted what they had. In other words, I had been brought to God’s kitchen and shown the fruit bowl, but was too small to see what was inside.

I started reaching blindly into the church experience, into the scriptures. I grabbed hold of some profound ideas and amazing situations, but they were short lived. I was rocky soil and the seed of God’s Word didn’t take hold. I realized I needed a step-stool to see into that bowl; the bowl being the multitude of Christian churches. Having been raised Catholic, I wanted to sample other denominations. I attended a Baptist church for a time, then a Lutheran. I enjoyed the sermons of a Methodist pastor in Lowell, MI, but felt completely lost in the mega-church – the one with the live band and the balcony.

My young adulthood was spent exploring the worlds of believers of Christ and witnessing for myself the variety of ways in which one can worship the same God, Son and Holy Spirit. All had their good points, but I realized that none, save one, was complete. I desired a church that had its roots in Jesus Himself, that celebrated the accomplishment of the faith walk with sacraments and feed the congregation with more than the Word of God, but with the flesh and blood of God. I came home to the Catholic Church. I had seen over the rim of the bowl of Christian churches, and chose the Catholic Fruits of the Holy Spirit.

I will not argue that every Christian church feeds the people. I met amazing people in my faith walk and I accredit them all with helping me make my decision. Sure, I didn't choose their church, but their church did help bring me closer to God - the same God I still worship. And that’s the point: we all, as Christians, do love the same God. For we are all brothers and sisters in Christ and it’s time to stop the sibling rivalry. Our Father in heaven loves us all.

Ditching the Zip to Have More Pep in My Step

I tried something new last week – writing in a notebook instead of on the computer. I’m sure that sounds funny to some, but with my 100 words a minute on the computer, I can crank out quite a bit in very little time. But as part of my Lenten prayer, I’m trying to slow down. Counter-cultural, for sure!

It’s come to my attention that I’m moving too quickly, rushing from this task to that errand and back home again, fussing when the house isn’t clean and wasting time doing things that really aren’t that important but seem necessary as I’m driving through life at 70 mph. The problem came down to where to begin slowing down? Writing seemed the best choice. I wondered if my writing would change if I actually wrote instead of typed. In preparation for this, I purchased a fancy new notebook and a Dr. Grip pen.

Here’s what I discovered:

- I actually had to spell the words correctly – there is no auto-correct in my pen.
- My mind works 100 times fast than my pen.
- My sentences are longer and more complex when I write by hand.
- The pages of my notebook are not written line after line. There are boxes, lines connecting thoughts that weren’t written sequentially. Overall, the page is organized more like my brain– kinda messy but interesting.
- I liked it.

Slowing myself down, taking the time to form each letter, then each word in an effort to create beautiful sentences was extremely enjoyable. My written word count is down by about 80% but I believe the quality of my writing increased exponentially. I did have an incredible ache in my hand after the first day, but that seemed a minor risk so I soldiered forth.

I feel the need to take this concept to other areas of my life. I will take more time to enjoy the moments between the words – the words I speak, the words I hear and the words I write. Throughout my days I have opportunities to have a real impact on another life. Why waste those moments on looking to the next thing? Why zip through the week reaching desperately for Friday when Tuesday is full of beauty?

The Third Degree

It happens all the time. I'm out shopping with my kids before lunch and they are the only children in the grocery store over the age of four. Someone, whether the butcher, the cashier or some lovely old lady will always ask, "So is there no school today?" I'm always polite and say, "Yes, we have school. We homeschool." I've been fortunate enough to never experience any extreme negativity about our choice to homeschool, but I do undergo a series of questions to determine if I am worthy.

- So what kinds of things do you do when you homeschool?
- Are you involved in any of the homeschool groups?
- Do your children like homeschooling?
- Aren't you tired at the end of the day?
- Do you worry about socialization?

While homeschooling is a popular choice these days with all the conferences, co-ops, curriculum and books, there are still those that worry about the qualifications of the parents. Looking at the history of public education, it has only been in the last one hundred years that public education became available to all. Prior to that, guess what? Parents taught their kids to read, to work math problems, and how to function within the home: including cooking, sewing and taking care of themselves. Prior to 1900, many children studied hard at home to be accepted into colleges. I guess you could say we are going back to our roots. We are focusing on our family, educating our children with the best materials we have, and preparing them for the real world, where God is first and foremost in our lives, where people respond with respect to each other, and creating an ideal that parents are truly the first teachers.

Am I qualified to teach my own children? I will teach them differently than another homeschooling mom or dad. My children will have a different childhood experience by being homeschooled. Despite my beliefs concerning the homeschooling experience, I’m still faced with those who question the concept and my abilties. My polite responses to these questions have served me well for seven years.

“So what kinds of things do you do when you homeschool?” I read with my children. We explore text books, library books, bookstores, and the internet for information that coincides with our curriculum. We pray together, eat together and laugh often. Our day is full of love and frustration, joy and trouble. Is all sunshine and kittens? Yes, including the sunburns and scratches. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Are you involved in any of the homeschool groups?” Not this year. I decided to take a year and put the ‘home’ back in homeschooling. And, no, I have no regrets about that.

“Do your children like homeschooling?” Do yours enjoy public or private schools? My children have always been homeschooled. It’s what they know and it’s what they love.

“Aren't you tired at the end of the day?” Uh-huh. If I wasn’t I would know I was lazy.

“Do you worry about socialization?” What about it? My children socialize with my husband and I; it’s true, we really do talk and listen to our children! They have friends and cousins to play with. They are involved at church. Socialization is a sorry attack to hold over homeschoolers with all the reports of bullies in schools and the pressures of fashion and technology, the haves and the have-nots. Those are not issues for my children. Does that mean that they don’t know about the real world? Sure does! And I plan on keeping it that way for as long as possible. There is a time and place for everything and ten years old is not the time to start worrying about being overweight or texting.

I applaud any parent who takes it upon themselves to truly be a teacher to their child; whether that means they are sitting side-by-side doing homework from school or actually teaching school at home, every good parent is invested to some degree in their child’s education.

Card Games

I was teaching my daughter how to play solitaire the other day (with real cards, not on my computer, such a drag to actually have to shuffle and deal the cards!) when she lost another game.

“Why didn’t I win?” she asked.

“Sometimes you just can’t win,” I answered.

“But I do when the cards are right.”

And that started me thinking: If life is a card game, are my cards stacked so we can win? If all my Aces are buried, I can’t start new stacks. Which brought another question to mind: What are my ‘Aces’? What are the things that I build upon? That part was easy to answer: Faith, Family, Writing and Health. My Ace of Hearts: I’ve learned quite recently that if my faith formation is my first priority everything else falls into place. Ace of Diamonds: when I’m happy and organized, so is my family. As a mother, I carry that ability to set the tone for everyone else. When things go wrong, it’s my reaction that can cure broken spirits or step on them further. Ace of Spades: Writing. Like a garden spade, I churn the earth words to cultivate beautiful imagery and intense plots. Ace of Clubs: health. Yes, I was thinking health “clubs”, but also everything I eat, think and do affects my health for better or for worse.

Once these Aces are laid out, the rest of the day follows suit (I couldn’t resist that pun!) As my daughter lamented in her solitaire game, sometimes the cards are just stacked wrong. There are days when these Aces are covered up by the Queen of Grocery Shopping on a slim budget, the Jack of Sick Kids, or the eight of ‘wear-is-my-other-shoe?’.

To win the game of solitaire, all the cards must be stacked on those Aces all the way up to the King. What does it mean to win at life? Is money the King? Marriage? Fame? Health? Having children? Possessions? How can we possibly win if we don’t know for sure who our King is? I’d like to say that I’m perfect and Jesus is always the King of my day. Sometimes he’s not, and when things start to slip out of my grasp, I am quickly reminded that I didn’t begin my day properly – on my knees in prayer! That’s the best way to re-stack the cards, to slip that King into the empty slot and begin a new stack.

Other times, I realized, the only way to win is to cheat. Perhaps the grocery shopping takes place with the baby still in his pajamas, or the sick kids are allowed to watch movies all day so I can still write a little and perhaps clean the kitchen. And that lost shoe? I still don’t have an answer for that.

Onion Rings

As much as I love Clean Eating and feeling the extra weight slip off like cast-away shirts, there are those days when I want to sit down and enjoy a plate of onion rings. But all the work I've done would be ruined if I cave in now to the pressures of cravings, so I devised my own recipe that offers all the crunch and sweetness of sports bar-worthy onion rings, at a sliver of the grease and calories.

Turn on broiler to high.
Slice a sweet or vidalia onion into rings.
Pop all the rings apart and place them in a large bowl.
Pour 3-4 tablespoons of olive oil over rings and toss.
Sprinkle a salt and pepper to taste and toss again.
Sprinkle 1/3 cup whole wheat flour over the rings and, yes, toss again.
Lay out on a cookie sheet and broil until nicely browned. (In my oven, I turn the onions every 4 minutes for a total of 16 minutes.)

I've served these rings on hamburgers or just as a side-dish. My kids go for the ultra-crunchy burnt rings - that is if I don't eat them first!

Talking Bookshelves

The other day, my middle daughter handed me a book. “Mom, this was great! You should read it too.” I smiled, thanked her and added it to the pile of books on my desk (actually the dining room table, a place we don’t eat together often because of all the books) that are waiting for my attention.

As a writer of fiction, it’s important that I keep up to date on the current trends in the writing world and experience what publishers tell me is good.

As a consumer of information, I need, well, information. In homeschooling, I don’t teach the girls about fantasy worlds, but this world. As a diabetic, I need to understand the disease so I can overcome the setbacks. I need recipes. There are hundreds of books on diet, nutrition and exercise that scream at me from the shelves to be picked up and read so I can look like a model, books that beckon me toward adventure, new worlds and God.

If my books could talk, the health books would tell me not to read while I eat so I can fully appreciate the food. However, it’s during lunch that I have the most time to read. That’s when everyone is content to stop their homeschooling for an hour, dive into their books and just relax.

But like competitive siblings, I did have to separate the Outlander series by Diana Gabaldon from my small library of bible studies, bibles and bible commentary. Some of the scenes between Jamie and Clare were making the Saints blush. The Fraser’s are now safely tucked into a bookshelf upstairs where lurking eyes can’t pry.

Some of the books my children are reading have things in common with my Christian library. C.S. Lewis walks freely from bookshelf to bookshelf, making comparisons. He’s unique in that he is as welcomed on the ‘good book’ shelf as much as the ‘fantasy’ shelf.

Madeleine L’Engle, Jean Craighead George, Louis Sachar, Gary D. Schmidt, Dave Berry and Pierson Ridley, Cornelia Funke, E.B. White, Laura Ingalls Wilder, and many others share another book shelf quite peaceably, although there is some jealousy among those who are read repeatedly and therefore less dusty.

Then there is the non-fiction bookshelf filled with glossy, two-page spreads of the natural world, diagrams, paragraph after chapter of interesting facts and opinions. If I lean closely to this shelf, I can hear the academic whisperings of the experts debating concepts and theories. Whoever is selected off this shelf is momentarily exalted to kingship, but it is usually short lived as the ever-fluid interests of growing children change as much as Michigan weather.

Tomorrow will find my children re-reading their favorite scenes of past books after they venture into new territories with Lewis and Clark. Or perhaps we will all gather together around a cookbook and plan next week’s meals. Wherever we go, whatever we read, our lives are enriched by the broadness of the genres and the scope of time and place that emerges from the printed word.

Spa Water

A few years ago I stayed at a hotel in Austin, Texas during a conference. I don’t remember everything (ok, anything!) that I learned at that conference, but I will never forget the ingredients for the most rejuvenating beverage.

My friend and I rode the elevator down to the exercise room with several gentlemen who were carrying red plastic cups – you know the kind that college kids drink beer from? I was surprised to see that walk around so freely with alcoholic beverages. It wasn’t until after we had worked out, that I saw the ‘beverage’ tank. Floating in twenty gallons of water were sliced oranges, red grapefruits, lemons, cucumbers, and ice. Not too sweet with just a pinch of tart from the lemons, I have continued to make this drink since. With the citrus fruits, there are loads of vitamins (especially C) for maintaining good health, plus there isn’t any sugar added. Here’s the best part… my kids will drink it. After the water is gone, they have the fruit to munch on. (If your kids prefer something sweeter, add a drop or two of liquid stevia - a natural herb).

For a bubbly treat, we replace the water with sparkling mineral water.

Feeling a little low in during these last cloudy winter days? Give it a try. And let me know what you think!

The Laundry Basket

It's laundry day. I'm carrying a basket of whites upstairs to begin the task of matching socks. I've piled the clothes too high for this small basket, but the bigger basket is almost too wide to fit through doorways, so I do my best to manage a careful balancing act. And just as always, one sock slips from the top of the pile onto the floor. I hesitate and consider leaving the sock where it is, but as a mom who wants to set an example for my children, I lean over to pick it up and out tumble several more socks and t-shirts.

Sound familiar?

The same is true with our emotions. As mothers, as grandmothers, as women in general, we pile our thoughts, fears, duties, and emotions into a tiny basket because we think it will be easier to manage. And when one emotion slips out, if we don't set aside everything else to manage it everything else tumbles out. We've all seen it happen - the nervous breakdowns, the crying in the bathroom, the anger that falls from our lips when there is a mess of wrinkled expectations on the floor.

What can we do? A wise woman told me to not try to 'solve' every problem that comes my way.

"So...what do I do?" I asked.

"You set all your worries, all your fears, all your stresses at the foot of the cross."

"Then what?" I asked.

She sighed patiently, then forced a smile. "Then you pray. Give those feelings to God. Lay them on the ground at Jesus' bleeding feet. Then pray."

I tried to glean more information from her about this, but she was tired of my slowness, hugged me (rather tightly) and told me to just try it.

It became a meditation, a practice of visualizing myself at the foot of the cross on that black Friday. I was surrounded by mourners, people who believed that Jesus was going to defeat Rome but was now suffering immensely under the piercing punishment of nails. Mary was next to me, crying as she, a loving mother, felt the same pain her son did. There I was at the apex of Christian history with my little problems and I was invited to lay them at the foot of that sacred cross.

I did. And Jesus bleed on my problems. He covered my worries, my fears, my stresses with his blood. His blood wasn't just spilled because of the fears of the Pharisees, but for you and me, for those who had died and needed a way to reach their Heavenly Father. My problems didn't go away, but they had been touched by Jesus in a very loving way and were no longer looming obstacles, but little pebbles I could step over instead of carrying them around in my shoes.

My little problem remains little if I set everything down and pray. One little sock on the floor no longer becomes a mess, but a moment of prayer. One little problem doesn't have to knock me over, but bring me to my knees. Everything, when done with God in my heart, becomes a worthy experience.

An Answer to Prayer in Preparation for Lent

God reached down from the heavens and poured out his blessings on me today.

For months, our beloved mini-van has been declining into the abyss of old age. The wrinkles on the hood where the paint refused to stick were not unsightly to us, who loved her, but made it easier to find in a parking lot (when I am suffering the effects of aging and forget where I park!) She shook a bit as we went down the highway, but we accredited that shimmy to our amazing choices in music. The doors creaked open, there was melted crayon art next to the back seat, and something metal would ping when I turned left.

We took the old gal in today for repairs, but the dealership was unable to fix her (something about a cracked frame?) and delivered a terminal diagnosis. She was gone. After a good, farewell cry, we set down to business. Should we replace the van? Can we afford to after replacing the wash machine last month? (I'm thinking of the old saying, "Bad things come in threes". I'm praying that we will just stop at two bad things.)

So how is this a blessing? Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent, a time of fasting, prayer and alms-giving. This is an example of how God will answer our prayers. I’ve been praying to follow good Lenten practices: to be free with my almsgiving (“Let not your hand be open to receive and clenched when it is time to give.” Sirach 4:31), to pray without ceasing (thank you, St. Paul!), and to sacrifice. I was thinking more along the lines of what I always try to give up: chocolate, coffee, wine. I considered changing my sacrifices for Lent because I wanted something more meaningful, but I couldn’t think of what that something significant might be. So I prayed for God to guide me toward the answer. The very next day, God stepped in and helped me. I will go without a car for the entire season of Lent.

And I will use prayer to see me through the other sacrifices I must make, which I won’t share publicly (“Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven.” Matthew 6:1)

All this boils down to the old adage: “Be careful what you ask/pray for”. I completely believe this now. If we ask God for wisdom, He will give us opportunities to practice being wise, usually with a healthy dose of humility in there too! If we pray for patience, He will provide many, many occasions to be patient. And if we pray to make the Lenten Season more meaningful in prayer, fasting, and alms-giving? Yup! God will create a situation (or many) for us.

Woe's of a Writing Contest

It sounded like a good idea - encourage the children to write an essay about homeschooling for a contest. What better reason is there to dive into writing than a cash prize?

Well, that's my reasoning. My kids, however, aren't as eager. I suppose that has a bit to do with the theme of the writing contest: "Advice for Homeschooling Moms from the Experts, the Kids!"

Yup. I'm asking my kids to write about the things that I do that they like in regards to homeschooling. As I thought about it, what do they have to write about? I'm not being hard on myself or searching for a compliment here, but it's an honest question that deserves an even more honest look at the answers. And not just in terms of homeschooling, but in all aspects of life.

* What do I do in homeschooling that inspires my children?
* As a wife, how do I inspire my husband?
* As a daughter, how do I please my parents? Are they happy with the choices I've made? Does their happiness in my life really matter?
* When people think of me, do they smile, roll their eyes, or cringe? (I suppose that depending on the person, thinking of me can elicit all those response - just being honest.)
* In my career, how do I bring others up?
* How am I an example of God's love in any given situation?

I have no idea what my children will write about. Perhaps I'll post it for you to read. But this has given me pause to think of what I would write about...