and now, laughing

From the new little humor blog Homeshool Ryan Gosling

No, really.  If you homeschool, go look. A couple of those almost made me spit out my tea.

I am not really in the whole pop culture realm, so did not realize there was any meme going around--but it does not take a PhD to figure out it's all about the fantasy of a smokin' hot husband encouraging our worst best homeschool urges. 

Oh, wait.  Some of us don't have to fanticize.*





*giggle, snort, snort, giggle-giggle, snort, wiping eyes, sigh.

crying #3

#3
So, this one probably makes much more sense with the understanding that a) I cry at the drop of a hat, and b) yesterday I was unusually tired and emotional.

I have been researching potential materials for our Korea studies for a few weeks, and have became fascinated by North Korea.  I mean, the whole idea of that country is fascinating, esp. to us Americans--not only because we are all about freedom, and they are a completely closed-off totalitarian police state, but also because we Americans are their sworn enemy.  Hatred of American devils is part of the very core of their nation's ideology. 

So I have come across quite a few interesting materials on the topic of foreigners in North Korea in the past month. 

 This one did an excellent job of conveying subtleties of culture and thinking that kids would never appreciate, so don't be misled by its graphic novel format. 

A National Geographic special "Inside North Korea" was very powerful and--literally--eye-opening.  I highly recommend it.  (It's available as an Instant Viewing selection on Netflix--bonus!)


And then there is The Pyongyang Concert, also available through Netflix but only as a DVD  mailed to your home.  It was made to document a momentous occassion--when the New York Philharmonic was invited by the North Korean government to perform in its capital city.  The DVD has two parts--the full concert, and a documentary made about the overall experience of the concert.  (Be sure to select "english subtitles" on the documentary--you don't want to miss what the North Koreans are saying.) I watched the documentary a few days ago, and did not think I would watch the concert, since the documentary would likely give the highlights.  But after the documentary was so good it made me cry--several times!--I thought I would give a listen to the concert as well. 

So, yesterday morning while I ate breakfast, I was having such a hard time waking up without being cranky that I thought it might be a good time to watch some of the concert.  I thought the kids might like to listen to the music while they were doing their morning routines, and I would wake up more fully and be soothed by something beautiful. : ) 

And, once again, I found myself crying.  Oh, goodness--The Star Spangled Banner has never sounded so glorious, even after the Philharmonic did a beautiful, strong and respectful rendition of the North Korean national anthem.  And the faces of the people in the audience--I was riveted.  What are they thinking?  What are they feeling?  Is it safe for them to show pleasure, or is that dangerous?   Are they seeing something attractive in this presentation of their "enemies"?  Are they searching for meaning in the faces of the musicians as much as I am in theirs?  Why did they give a standing ovation for that one song--because it sounded warlike and proud, like the music of their own regime?  But then what did they make of the gentle and stirring traditional Korean melody that was presented so specially for them?  The young North Korean man up in the very back, who stood when no one else did, who clapped and waved all alone--what moved him to such recklessness?  Has his enthusiasm for this American spectacle hurt him or his family?

Anyway, it was all really good.  If you are interested in the topic, these are all very accessible things, and I think I appreciated the concert all the more for understanding some things I read in the book. 

---------------------------------------------------------
So, there you have it.  The big three reasons why I was crying yesterday. 

Who knows what will set me off tomorrow.  But I am sure it will not take much.




 

crying #2

#2: (which I mostly wrote yesterday)

So, this part is for the ladies, my sisters in spirit, my girlfriends. Gentlemen, please excuse us.  Thank you.

  Christine over at "Welcome to My Brain" does this annual event that she just this year re-christened "Sexuary." It is something that is so bold, so amazing, so sister-strong, and I am totally convicted by it. Last year, when I stumbled upon her series, I was in a heart-heavy, romantically dead place. Hey, it happens. My emotions are just too tied up with my body, and with my spirit, and it is almost impossible for me to separate them. Maybe I'm not supposed to. But then if one part of me is hurting, it affects everything else, and sex with my husband--the way God intended, a full joining of body and spirit and heart and purpose--is impossible. Now, I know most of the time sex is nothing like any ideal, and partners are often tired, out of shape, incommunicative, complacent, insensitive, stuck in a rut. . . whatever. Basically, our sex lives are no different than the rest of our lives, and while we all have our fantastic moments, usually we live in some range of pretty good to just ok. And that's ok.

But last year, even though my heart did not feel like it, I closed my eyes and jumped into it, and DH and I "participated" in the celebration last year, in our own way. And it was really good--yeah, yeah, that way too, but I'm talking about for my heart, my spirit.

Then, since I turned 40 last Fall, I have been really wanting to shake things up a bit for myself, choose to make the last half of my life even better than the first. I am still the same flawed person I was in my 30's, but hopefully a little wiser. I see so many ways I am not living life well, living fully, and I want to change those things. I want to live life to its fullest, and am targeting specific things to do differently this year. I hope to blog about some of those ways as I grow and stretch this next year.

Now, this topic of sex is one that, as you can imagine, is a little too personal to actually write about. Except it is really not about sex--it is about loving fully, accepting my sagging 40-year-old body fully, shedding past hurts fully, trusting God fully, submitting my fears and pride and heart fully, embracing Truth fully. Those things I can write about. ; ) And those things were all in my head and heart when I read the first "sexuary" post weeks ago--and I cried. God is talking to me, sisters. He has Good things in store for me, and this is clearly one area in which He wants to heal my wounded spirit and lift me up. (And now I'm crying again. But it's ok--better to be crying than to be closed off.) And read this post today--and cried.

So, ladies, sisters, girlfriends--if you are a married woman,* I strongly urge you to jump over and read those posts, and consider what's going on with you and your man.  And let me just suggest, that one's sex/heart/spirit life is never too good for a fun boost (esp. to marital morale).  Conversely, if you are feeling the least bit threatened, sad, scared, heart-heavy or heart-hard after reading those posts, you are not the only one, and this might be a time for you to stretch yourself and consider what's going on.  You might find the experiment growing, healing, liberating.  At the very least, your husband will likely be really happy, and you might be able to milk that to your benefit.  ; )



*Christine's posts are so honest, so true, and she has created a space in which women are encouraged to be vulnerable, to speak freely--which makes these posts so good for women, but inapporpriate for young'uns.

Monday morning, crying

I don't know what is wrong with me this morning.  All I know is I woke up tired, but that's nothing unusual.  I was getting Sunny ready for her Monday school class (yes, this year she actually goes to "school" one day a week, with other 6-8 graders, from 9:30-2) when my sweet friend Sara called and offered to pick her up and take her to school, as they also go to Monday school, and had an appointment right down the street from us beforehand.  Wow, what a treat!  So, I did not have to rush, and could make a cup of tea and toast and sit down for my favorite morning blog read while the other kids were doing their morning routine. 

And pretty much from that moment on I have been crying. 

It's so odd, too, how completely different the things are that are hitting me so hard today: orphans, sex, and the New York Philharmonic.  Let's see what I can get time to write in the moments I have. . .

#1:
I know I have mentioned the amazing, heartbreaking story of Katie before.  Her mom's blog, The Blessings of Verity, over on my sidebar, has been one of my favorite reads for the past several months.  With every post it's like I get to (virtually) hang out with a smart, wise, spiritually-mature woman who shares her insights about things that Matter.  And every post that is about Katie is such a blessing--the photos and stories are the very process of Redemption. 

This morning's post was powerful in itself, but one of the stories to which it linked just had me bawling.

And if that is not bad enough, another post by the same author is just so heart-breaking.  I confess to you all that I can understand why the orphanages in Eastern European countries hide away their Down Syndrome and other mentally handicapped kids and adults in institutions.  They have never seen a healthy DS adult, and so only see mental disability and think that means the child is "broken," "defective," and somehow thus unworthy of love.  Well, somehow this diminishes the personhood of the child/adult, and it is easier to then stick them away out of sight, out of mind (out of conscience), and everyone assumes it is perfectly ok to do so, since the child will never understand what he/she is missing.  Because how would a child/adult with mental disability know what love is, what care is, what healthy human interaction is, what their value is?   And what they don't know won't hurt them, right?

So, I totally get the (flawed, sinful, and tragic) logic behind the way children with mental handicaps are stuck away in institutions, even as I am so thrilled when big-hearted people go to such lengths to rescue them and show the world how wrong it is when it evaluates people so coldly.  BUT the thing I don't get AT ALL is children who have NO mental delays, who are cognizant, fully intelligent, personable, but who just have some physical handicap.  Children who have physical needs, but who are psychologically and mentally perfectly normal children trapped in problematic bodies, but who are STILL stuck away in mental institutions, for lack of better place to put them!

See, I can get how it is easy to stick a child in an institution who you don't think can understand what is happening and why, and who you don't think is capable of any other living.  It would be much easier to pretend that child is not a person, a soul, just like you.  But how could anyone stick a child in such a place who can look you in the eye and reason with you, who is fully aware of what you are doing to him?  I just can't comprehend it.


And yet, there is always hope for the hopeless.. 

Ok, I have written more, but it is not done, and all the while I have been helping kids with school, parenting a very three-year-old. . . I'm out of time sitting down.  So consider this part one, and hopefully I will get to finish later!

Smiley's big-boy haircut

I cut all the hair in our family, except my own.  (For me I splurge on the quarterly CostCutters visit--it is just too obnoxious trying to do a decent job on my own bangs.) Smiley has had two haircuts from me previously in his life, the first I think just over a year ago.  That first "real" haircut happened by accident; his bangs were in his eyes, so I intended just to trim them, but then had to trim around the ears too. . . but I hated to cut off the adorable curls in the back. . . and when it was all said and done I stepped back and gave a horrified cry, "I just gave my son a mullet!" 

After the shock wore off, he started to look pretty darn cute in it, actually.  Like an adorable little two-year-old boy should look (at least to my Central Illinois late 70's-early 80's memories of childhood ; ). But, alas, I am pretty sure this happened a year ago, at the same time that our computer crashed, and as far as I can tell, any pics of him in his first mullet are part of the data that was lost. 

Then I meant to give him a haircut this summer, before my family came out, and it just did not happen.  I was so crazy busy trying to get stuff done before they came, and the haircut was in the category of "would like to happen," and to be honest, I never quite made it out of the "I'll just die of embarassment if that is still like that when they get here" category.  (Thank you, family, for politely averting your eyes from some of the things that you would think any decent housewife/daughter/sister would have taken care of before such a monumental visit.  Sigh.)

My little tousled surfer boy.

But when my cousin Stacia's wedding came up in the Fall, I had to do something, and kinda just grabbed locks of hair and cut them off while we were walking out of the door.  Yes, it was that good.  But at least his hair was out of his eyes again (and I cut off some of the back, so there was no more outgrown mullet, blech) and so he did not look terrible for the wedding (and Disney!) photos:

But by the time the holidays came around, my little guy was looking pretty shaggy.  Below is the day we went to cut down our Christmas tree:

He's still so cute, of course. ; )  But I'm not a fan of long hair on boys, and had previously only been hesitant to go short for two reasons:  a) I had not wanted to lose the adorable baby curls at the back, and b) I did not want him to all of a sudden look like a big boy.  Yes, I confess, I did not want to lose my little  boy any sooner than I had to.  But with the pre-wedding haircut I had finally trimmed the curls in the back off, and it looked like they were not going to be growing back (sob), so there went that reason.  And he was looking like such a mophead, I knew it was time for the "big boy" haircut.

You're going to do what with those scissors? 

Just kidding.  Could not resist sticking in a random but adorable pants-on-the-head-while-on-the-potty pic.

And so, the day before we went up for Christmas with DH's parents, I cut Smiley's hair. And I was so pleasantly surprised to find that he did not look less like a toddler, but did look oh so much cuter!

Not bad for a scissor cut on a wiggly three-year-old.  Mom and Dad, these are the pics from when we were talking on the phone together, and I told you that Smiley got his phone and was pretending to talk to you too, next to me on the bed.  It was over the top adorable. 

Ohhhh, I love how his haircut shows off his sweet, oh-so-kissable cheeks!  And his hair off his forehead brings out his bright brown eyes. 

Mmmmmmmmmmmm.  I just can't get enough of my boy, and his haircut made him all the yummier.  : )

He is a blessing to my heart, even when he is being VERY "three," as we say, and I am always mindful to enjoy every moment I get.

sunday snapshot

At least one of the blogs I read has this running feature called the "Sunday Snapshot" where you take a pic and blog about it on Sundays and then share the link with others doing the same thing. 

I am waaaaaaaay to lazy at this point to start something regular like that.  And I am not the best photographer, by any means.  But when I sent the girls off to church this morning (I stayed home for a rare morning of rest), their clothing made me smile.  They have this new thing recently, of getting dressed (or creating a dress-up outfit) and then coming to ask me what part of the world or period of time they look like.  This morning, the two youngest came and asked, and all I could say was, "Gypsy." So I decided to get a pic of them when they returned home.

Here are my three colorful, creative girls, out on the back deck, in some of our favorite duds:

No, we don't look like any other family at church, that's for sure! 

: )

(Aunt Becca, notice the vest that is still seeing lots of use?  We have sure enjoyed your handiwork. : )

Updated update

It is amazing how much difference one day makes.

When I wrote that last post, what was it, Thursday?  After two nights of the most awful sleep--that night I had the most fantastic night of sleep!  Ten hours of sleep, with at least one good nostril all night long, AND even when I was laying on my side, so I could really relax in one of my favorite sleeping positions, which I had not been able to do for a week and a half.  Oh, merciful Jesus! 

And right before I woke up, I had a dream, and I don't remember much now, but do know that Dorothy and another mom (in my dream I knew her, but now can't remember) were there, and we were at some kind of women's/mom's event, and they were smiling and gave me hugs and patted my back and encouraged me.   I have mentioned before how much I appreciate these women, from the amazing, encouraging, inspiring blogs I read there on the top sidebar section, and it was so fun to feel all that warmth from them in my dream. (Because they would do the same in real life, so the dream was the next best thing. : ) 

And then I get to my computer with my breakfast and cup of tea, and see the comments you all left--thank you!  But what a coincidence that Barb (aka "PsychoMom") would happen to visit and leave an encouraging word for me on that last update the same morning I had dreamt of Dorothy--since she is herself one of those amazing moms on my sidebar, and a friend of Dorothy IRL.  It seemed to bring the warm-fuzzies of my dream all the closer, and suggested greater spiritual significance. 

And there was greater meaning in her sweet, encouraging comment to my post--because while most of you likely do not read her blog, I do, and have for several years now, and know that while her family's home situation has always been challenging because of her eldest daughter's FASD, it has recently been very traumatic and is reaching a critical stage where their daughter might have to live outside the home.  This is a family who has suffered so much, and Barb in particular bears the brunt of so much of their daughter's violence, because she is the Mom.  This woman has so much to be bitter about, to rant about, to at the very least complain about.  But what does she do?  She comes over and visits my blog (probably because I've been leaving what I am intending to be loving, encouraging comments on her blog, and she's thinking, who is this woman? ; ) and takes a moment to leave kind, postive words on my uber-pathetic gripe about allergies. 

Not only that, but her own blog post I read that morning really put everything back into Perspective: 

I have been reflective this past week, on the challenges God has blessed us with. Sometimes it is hard to see through the forest, and to see the challenges as a blessing. Really hard. But when I sit back, spend some time in his word, I am able to see the blessings. I don't see them all, yet. I know that He has some more to reveal to me that I am not yet ready for.

Allergies are nothing compared to loving so fiercely a child with brain damage, who breaks your heart every day, but whom the all-knowing, all-loving God has entrusted to you.  And yet, even the little trials we go through in life give us new ways to consider and practice things like constant awareness of blessings, patience (i.e. long-suffering), wisdom, enduring hardship with grace, living out the idea of God's strength being perfected in my weakness--all things I hope to cultivate in my own life.

So, at this point in the morning on Friday I was as well-rested as I could be (still feeling like I had been hit by a truck, but truly elated from all that good sleep), encouraged by women God has placed in my life (even if mainly through their blog writing), and convicted of my own pathetic self-focused and small view of things.  God had my attention, and it was just no coincidence that the next thing I read that morning so perfectly addressed so many things in my heart.  It was written by Kari, of  the blog Coffee Catharsis, which she had to make private this past year for the safety of their family.  I am going to re-post most of it here, with her permission pending, because it spoke to me and challenged me in such a good way (and might you as well):

It was a difficult time but I made a very intentional shift and started trying to write more about situations I felt I handled well as a mom or things that were working with our family. I still “vomited” my frustrations, fears and anger in my writing but I came to realize that only felt good for a few moments. It wasn’t making me stronger or healthier. Reading it again later didn’t feel therapeutic.

I decided to pay closer attention to the words of Philippians 4:8- Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.

A friend who recently started reading this blog told me that it seems like I always do or say the right things with my kids. I don’t. Not by a long shot. But I’ve tried to write more about what I noticed myself doing well and less about my parenting blunders or the things I felt I could not change. Vomit attracted more readers but I don’t really care about that now that this blog is private.

I made another shift in how I allowed the stress of this kind of parenting to affect my marriage. Instead of being frustrated in our parenting differences, I tried to notice the good things that StarBUCK was doing with the kids. I’m glad I started paying attention because it has made a difference in our relationship and in my own parenting. That’s the focus of today’s post.

The picture above is of two small canvases that Java painted yesterday afternoon at Latte’s house. They will be among the collection of artwork that hangs in the still under construction Barbie house. StarBUCK put several hidden magnets in the walls of the house so that artwork (with magnets on the back) can be added or moved from room to room. He made a small framed replica of our family Christmas picture to hang inside, too! (On a creepier note, he is also cutting the head off a plastic deer so Barbie can hang that on her wall. His decorating taste typically involves trophy antlers.)

Java has been rather awful toward StarBUCK these past few months. She screams at him and calls him names, most likely because of what has been going on with her birth dad and a personal struggle with allegiances. . . .  

When I’ve been the recipient of such venom in the past, I’ve responded with hurt and resentment. StarBUCK had a more admirable response. He started building this Barbie house with Java. These added little touches like the Barbie artwork collection tell me that it isn’t finishing this project that is the goal right now. The goal is the time they spend together in the process of making it.

I want to learn to focus more on the process than on achieving the end result. I want to respond to challenges with love. Thank you for all you’ve taught me, StarBUCK. ♥ 

Wow.  So much going on there that strikes a personal chord.  She opens with the very same piece of Scripture that God reminded me of at the end of my own last blog post.  She writes about making a conscious choice to focus on the positive in her blogging--even if her blog is now private and she can in theory say whatever she wants.  She writes about making a conscious choice to pay more attention to the positive in her marriage, esp, what her husband does that is honest, true, pure, noble.  And she writes about wanting to see her life and it's daily challenges from the view of valuing the process more than the end result.  Oh, so important for me to be reminded of these days, in parenting, in home-making (and home-improving!), in my marriage, in my spiritual journey. 

Thank you, Dear Lord, for your promises and provision.  Thank you ladies of my blog village--you may not have claimed me as such, but I claim you! ; )  And thank you, all of my friends and family who stop by and see what's going on with me.  You don't have to, and yet you do, and I admit it makes me feel a little loved. : )

So, happy Sunday to you all, and may this next week be one marked by many blessings, and our awareness of them all.