Christmas Cards

 Late last week I made a social media post about our updated address. There is back story to this year’s Christmas card. 

On Thanksgiving, upon arrival at Mimi and Poppy’s house I tried to quickly get my whole family to stand normal in front of the Christmas tree and take a picture. Normal = impossible for my family. 

It did not end well, and the final blow to the photo shoot was when I exclaimed at the end “I just wanted a normal photo, with everyone smiling and wearing clean clothes!” Stellar job, mom. I’m aware. 

The next day the Black Friday offer I knew was coming (hence the picture situation the day before) showed up in my inbox. The day was crazy though so it was evening before I was scrambling to put together a Christmas card. I had since apologized to my kids for the photo fiasco, and decided that I did not want that not-shining moment saved for the sake of posterity on all the walls of our friends and family. So I picked a different photo, one more similar to the “stock-image” my teenager was seeking to avoid. This caused one child to meltdown in utter disgust that I had tortured them the day before only to not even use the picture in question. I talked this child off their ledge of unjustness and moved on to writing the novel that would grace the back. 

Finished it, read it to Aaron to make sure it made sense, ordered the 75 I was sure I would not need (50 to mail out 25 to save forever) and finally, pressed order. 

With that, I breathed a sigh of relief. Then it dawned on me; I never entered my Black Friday code. The whole reason for the whole thing was the Black Friday code. 

As I lay in bed that night, I realized that I wrote on the back that one of my children was in 2nd grade. He’s not. He is in 3rd grade, I’m his teacher.

So, when you receive our Christmas card this year, you can know with certainty that that picture was taken when we were all in a good mood because nobody said “This is the picture for the Christmas card this year.”  Laugh well, my friends, and laugh often. 

If I could figure out how, I would add the picture we are NOT using on our Christmas card. 

A Lot Rambly; Triggers; Release

 

Scrolling in the Facebook land you’ll find yourself triggered by numerous things, over and over again in a span of seconds. Some triggers are big, we erupt; the meme about the Holy Spirit making you delete the whole text comes into play. Some triggers cause us to spiral. Some triggers irritate the snot out of us. Some triggers make us sad.

This might sounds ridiculous, but National Dog Day makes me sad. Obviously, for those who know us well, you know we had to tell our sweet Ninja puppy goodbye last December, so it makes sense that National Dog Day on Facebook would make me sad. But then also, I felt sad when I passed a veterinarian’s office the other day that specialized in dog rehabilitation. But again, Ninja went through some tough stuff the last few years of his life. As his dog mama, I have some sad feelings about losing him. I don’t want another dog. I just really loved Ninja.

There are triggers everywhere, but the key to every trigger is what we do with it. When something walks right up into our headspace without our permission what do we do?

If time allows, I like to take some time to process – why is this a trigger for me? What just happened there?  

I realized National Dog Day was a trigger for me (albeit a small one) when I felt annoyed at all those happy people with their dogs on Facebook.

To be honest, I’m so happy everyone loves their dogs. I’m just sad that mine is gone and particularly sad that the last few years of his life were just so hard. I wonder if I waited to long to put him down. Was he trying to tell me he was in pain a year before? Was the dementia too much for him? – I have to walk myself through the trauma of my trigger, the sadness of seeing happy pet owners, and apologize and forgive myself for what I did not know.  Grieve it, release it, and jump off of Facebook for awhile.

Tonight, another trigger smacked me in the face. A Facebook friend posted an alert about a road closed due to an accident; A road we used to use frequently when we live in Iowa, and I felt jealous. Stupid, right? Like, I’m missing out on a road detour? I’m jealous of what? Someone had an accident so bad they had to close an intersection that a lot of people use. I should be concerned about those people in the accident! Goodness gracious.

Why was I jealous? – I miss being a part of a community. Grieve it, release it. We are here in Arkansas for a reason. A community will come.

The world around us is full of triggers. Most of them are things we’re holding on to and desperately need to let go of; fears, disappointments, grief, shame, uncertainty.

If we can pinpoint our pain, acknowledge it, turn the story around and tell ourselves the truth of the situation, we can heal and grow.

Healing and growth. Healing and growth. Healing and growth.

Life’s journey continues to take us on the path of change.

Last night I attended a local women’s conference. The speaker spoke about releasing something to God. Releasing a dream, so God could take it and grow it.

I’ve been pondering all day what I am supposed to be releasing. I’ve had dreams, but life took another turn and it seemed like that was no longer the calling on my life or that the season was placed on hold. What, God, should I release? I don’t even feel like I have dreams right now. I feel stripped bear, tired, worn out, trudging through mud some days. What dream do I even have to release?

And tonight it hit me, I need to release Walcott and Iowa and all that it represents to me.

In high school my senior year, we did the musical, The Music Man, and the opening song is all about Iowa, and how people “ought to give Iowa a try.” I had never been to Iowa, and had no desire to go to Iowa when I was 17. In fact, despite Iowa being only 2 hours from where I grew up, I had little idea of where it really was in relation to me. I felt it was probably almost to Nebraska (which it is) but, it seemed so distant and far off.

Then Aaron got his first job in Iowa. We moved there, built our entire married lives there. We lived the small town living that I always wanted. There were sidewalks on every street in Walcott (seriously, a city ordinance and small point of contention at times.) There is a city day every year (as all small towns in Iowa have.) And for a few months (cumulative) of the entire year – the weather is fantastic. In the fall the grain elevators turn on and outside is loud from late August until mid December with the hum of the dryers. All through September, October and November tractors and semis full of grain roll through town. A pumpkin spice flavored Hallmark film could be made in a small town in Iowa.  The town literally felt like a Hidden Valley commercial. It was perfection.

And then we left. We had always hoped to move to Arkansas someday, but as the years ticked by it seemed that it would never come. Arkansas was a dream. But living here means starting over, as our dream started to come true and I started to realized just how many people I had to say goodbye to and just how many connections I had and just how hard starting over really would be – I began to doubt that Arkansas was really where we were supposed to be.

Why now God? Why when I let go of the dream? Why when we moved into a house we really loved? Why when everything was finally going smoothly? Why when I was just making new friends after some crazy stuff? Why when I was building relationships? Why when my kids were making new friends? Why when everything was going so smoothly did you disrupt and change our course?

Release it. Release it. I will do a new thing. I will reignite old dreams and passions. I will restore and redeem the hidden and hurting places. Release it.

 So, I’m releasing Iowa and all that it represents. Releasing all that I loved about Iowa and Walcott. Releasing all that I didn’t love.  Releasing the good, and the hard.

I know that more hard will come. It will not be easier here than it was there. It will only be different. There are new things to do, new people to grow with. He is doing a new thing.

Hi, I'm new here.

 

A few months ago, our family relocated from small town Iowa to Big City Arkansas. We left behind where our marriage began 18 years ago. We also left behind my mother in law, our friends, our church, our community. We moved to be closer to family and a new job for my husband. 3 months in and its finally starting to feel like we live here and not like we're on an extended vacation. 

Today a new friend, and I think I can safely call her that, invited me to a women’s conference their church is putting on next weekend. I want to go because I know that I NEED to go. I need to make efforts to make friendships and build relationships here. I just never realized how much I loved how easy it was in Iowa. It was easy because we had been a part of our church for 18 years, we were solid there. It was easy because I had been homeschooling for 9 years. Most of the moms I knew and they liked me. I was now a “veteran”. I didn’t have to be the new mom anymore. It was easy because we had lived in small town Iowa for 17 years, the community knew us.

And here we are. I’m the new – everything. New woman. New mom. New to the area. I don’t even know where things are, let alone know the people at them. The woman I’m going to go to this conference with, and the other women going, they hardly know me at all. Oof how I just want to fit. I just want to not be new.

But I’ve been made aware. There have been many times in my past when I haven’t gone up to the new person and talked to them. Maybe because that day my anxiety was high, and I couldn’t manage the courage to talk to someone new. Maybe because I wanted to be cool and look like I fit, so I made myself fit so well I didn’t have room for the new person. Maybe because I thought the new person really wouldn’t like me or want what I have to offer as a person in friendship or at all. Maybe because I thought talking to them might be committing to a whole friendship and my plate felt full. Whatever my reason may have been for avoiding someone who was new and stood out as such, I feel it now.

 I feel new.

How badly I want SOMEONE, anyone, to say hello, ask about my kids, find out why we’re new. Even if its just so I don’t have to sit at a table with my kids and wonder if everyone here feels as lonely as I do.

I know, friendships are coming. In the meantime, relationships have to be built.

Even on the Hard Days

 

Yesterday my fingers flew across the keyboard in homeschool happiness and bliss.  I chronicled a lifestyle that I have chosen and love and in my evening eyes I was pleased. Today whacked me in the face like a stack of books swung by an angry 8^th grader.

Let me be frank. It didn’t start well. I allowed some screen time which led to some not great behavior. I talked too long on the phone with my mom. I made a concession for one child that disrupted another. There was poop on the deck. Water on the floor. Text messages. Instant messages. Budget concerns. Tantrums over school work. A doctors appointment.

In the good moments I went roller blading with my older son. I gave my toddler a bath when he got  out of hand. I shoved my head in my blankets and screamed really loudly. Eventually, the school work did get done, although I forgot about an important lesson. I took a jog/walk. I didn’t eat the crust off the pizza. I ate a vegetable and a fruit. I also ate the popcorn and a handful of m&m’s. I didn’t drink the soda.

Why am I chronicling these details? Because yesterday’s post, while true, was also shrouded in the way I feel on the good days. Homeschooling/home parenting/child rearing is hard stuff. It’s day in and day out. It’s changing the plans. It’s giving someone extra grace. It’s giving yourself extra grace. It’s taking some unintended insults from your kiddos. It’s giving them some unsolicited advice, not always well received.

It’s extra hard. It’s extra worth it. It’s answering the question every day “Why do I work a job that doesn’t pay in money?” And even on this day, this extra hard day the answer is the same, “No amount of money is worth missing out on all that I would miss out on if this wasn’t my job.”

Blessings,

Brie

Homeschool Mama

 

I bought my first “homeschool mama” shirt the other day.  It arrived today and I laughed at myself that finally, after 9 years of homeschooling, I felt ready to get myself a shirt. I mean, why now? Why 9 years later do I finally feel comfortable in this homeschooling skin? 

Over the past 9 years I have doubted and struggled. Is this the right option? Is this the best option? Will my kids be okay? Are we learning enough? Are they learning at all?  We have done HSAP, co-ops, community groups, dual enrollment, therapies, tutoring, full time public schooling (that was a big deal), and back again. So why do I feel so confident here, in this? Because in all these years, I’ve discovered that they’re okay. They are learning. They are growing. 

My little girl with dyslexia, dysgraphia, and anxiety – she has learned how to write full papers.  My little girl with a language disorder – she is quickly conquering reading. My little boy with boundless energy – he is soaking up information like a sponge and repeating it back to me in striking detail.

We strive and we struggle. Some subjects come easy and we dance through the lessons, some subjects we hike through slowly but deliberately conquering the towering mountain before us.

I have seen post after post on social media the last few weeks, pictures and words detailing the exodus of children back to school. Parents cheering on their brave students as they enter back into their school buildings and breathing a sigh of relief that the difficult work of educating their energetic children rests in the capable hands of their teachers. Posts telling tired mamas to relax, breathe easy, drink some coffee, read a book – and I’ll admit, I have felt keenly the pangs of jealousy. My busy season is just beginning. There is little time now for long coffee breaks, book reading (beyond read-alouds for my kids), crocheting, or writing (a much missed past time).

But even through a little jealousy, I love teaching my kids. I love spending this precious time with them. I love watching my daughter conquer reading with squeals of delight. I love laughing and joking with my oldest while we work our way through Latin conjugations and pre-Algebra. I love when my son makes outrageous math problems for me to solve between his own, even though math is tricky for him. I love passing out play-doh to keep hands busy while I read out loud another book by Beverly Cleary. I love making a snack tray, and I love snuggling on the couch. I love making omelets and oatmeal and reluctantly making ramen.

Don’t get me wrong, there is a lot I could get done if I was only chasing a 2 year old around all day. Or, if I had time to run a side gig (from one of the numerous direct sales companies that I love) that brought us in some extra money. It’d be awesome to be able to clean everything myself, or exercise, or read a book, or crochet something. It’d be so cool if I could keep this house in order all day long and then give the kids 1 or 2 chores to do when they got home.

But that’s not the life I’ve chosen. I’ve chosen homeschool mama, which means I have my own unofficial full time job. It’s a full time job without a monetary paycheck. It pays in emotional satisfaction, sometimes frustration. It pays in my kids’ futures. It pays in joy. It pays in laughter. It pays in high fives, math jokes, Latin jokes, homeschooling jokes. It’s hard. But it’s so good.

I’m a homeschool mama.

Blessings,

Brie

Lessons from the soil part II

 I have a fern a friend gave me two years ago. I know it was two years ago because she gave it to me shortly after (or before? That whole spring is a blur) my toddler was born and I literally did nothing with it for weeks… maybe months.

Eventually I repotted it and decided to try and start taking care of it because miracle of miracles it was still alive. 😂 

For the past two years it has struggled and struggled some more. Mold would grow on the surface and I would scrape it off. Sometimes mix it in. Honestly I had no clue what I was doing. Eventually I asked my friend and she recommended I repot it with completely new soil and rinse off the roots to make sure I didn’t transplant any mold with it. 

Today I gently pulled the root ball out of the old pot. It was a huge tangled mess. I rinsed and tried to gently pull off broken pieces of rotten root ball. Eventually this is what I was left with: 

There are only a couple of roots attached to these 5 growing stems of leaves. I can see at the tips some healthy root growth beginning. 

2 years this fern has limped along, hiding under the contaminated soil rotten roots that were keeping it from thriving. 

How often does this happen to us humans? We have rotten roots hiding under the surface. We need the great Creator, the God of Heaven to reach into our lives and gently pull out the rotten bits and rinse us with clean water and repot us in fresh, uncontaminated soil. But it hurts. It’s a lot of scary to willingly walk into something new and hard and unknown. But God has greater things planned for our lives than just 5 measly stems. He has a whole flourishing plant planned for us, if we’re willing to do the work, and let him do the work in our lives. 

Blessings my friends. 

Brie

Lessons from the soil Part 1

 After 15 years in the same house we moved late last summer across town to a house that provided a little more room for our family. While not the reason we purchased the house, I was drawn to the many flower beds that provided ample opportunity to create and explore. Our old yard was very sunny and I looked forward to new adventures in a part shade yard. 

As I dug into the soil last fall for the first time, anticipating the release that comes from plunging your spade into the rich dark soil, my spade stopped short. I pushed harder. I heard crunching and scratching. What could be hiding under this grass? It looked to me on the surface to be green lawn, a fresh place to dig a flower bed.  But I was met with so much gravel.

A long time ago, this big green lawn was a well manicured oasis for someone. Landscaped completely and beautifully with rock. And although in its day it graced a magazine, it became over grown and someone else came in and laid some sod on top of all the rocks and called it good. 

Today, I was changing around a different bed. I decided to move a couple of hostas to a different location. It looked prime. There was a layer of mulch covering the soil. Again, I thrust my spade into the mulch and it went in less than a quarter of an inch. I scraped back the mulch. More rock. 4 inches of rocks. Large rock, small rock. It was all there hiding just beneath the surface. 

As I scraped away the rock, trying to decide how to proceed with my flower beds, I was again reminded that God always brings the best revelations out of my time in the soil. 

Just like my well manicured lawn and flower beds were hiding so many rocks, people too can look well manicured and put together on the outside but when you dig a little bit, you may find a lot of rocks. 

What may have looked easy might instead hold for you long hours of digging through the hardness of life picking out all the rocks. Underneath all of those rocks there is beautiful fertile soil waiting to welcome the new life it can now receive in abundance. 

Peace and love to you as you patiently dig out the rocks in your own soil. 

Brie