More on the Mundane

"Nirvana" by Charles Bukowski, read by Tom Waits.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HVVzCURucaA

http://talesfromshangri-la.blogspot.com/2014/09/pleading-case-for-mundane.html

Weep with Those Who Weep

Helpful piece on what to say when your friend is grieving.

Yes, You Should Say Something

Turning Toward

Based on just a few factors, psychologist John Gottman can predict with up to 94 percent certainty whether a marriage will succeed or fail. Changing your mindset and behavior in a few ways changes everything.

I read this fascinating and concise article a couple of years ago and reading it again has been a good exercise for me.

"He invited 130 newlywed couples to spend the day at this retreat and watched them as they did what couples normally do on vacation: cook, clean, listen to music, eat, chat, and hang out. And Gottman made a critical discovery in this study—one that gets at the heart of why some relationships thrive while others languish."

The Masters of Love

Country Romance

Love these two pretty songs about real, grown up romance.

Remember When -- Alan Jackson

Something That We Do -- Clint Black

Top 5 Interior Design Errors

An interior designer told me once the most common mistake she sees are people hanging pictures too high. They are supposed to be at around eye level of a regular person.

Top 5 Interior Design Errors and how to correct them

Strengthening the Executive Function

Three publications look at how to develop your frontal lobe function

-- Psychology Today

-- Sharp Brain

-- Ideas from NaturalHealth365

"Examples of neurobic exercises are listed below:

Writing or using a utensil with your non-dominant hand.
Walking down your hallway with your eyes closed.
1-leg balancing exercises.
Spend time outside smelling all the plants and flowers.
Eat foods with lots of colors to stimulate your visual senses.
Feel the texture of different objects like rocks, shells, etc.

Additional neurobic activities include:

The use of essential oils – take a sniff to excite your brain.
Brushing the teeth with your non-dominant hand.
Listening to classical music or music that has different tones, melodies and instruments than you are used to listening too.
Surround yourself with lots of different colors.
Play a new instrument or try a new sporting activity.
Do a crossword puzzle.
Walk barefoot outside and pay attention to the unique feel of the rocks and ground with your feet.
Sit in a park and journal about all the unique sounds and smells you are experiencing.
Read a book or recite a speech out-loud while pacing with your eyes closed
Try a new, healthy dish with unique flavors you are not accustomed too."

O Captain! My Captain!

This poem was written by Walt Whitman for Abraham Lincoln at his death. I read it at the funeral of my grandfather, a retired Navy Captain and pilot in WWII and the Korean War.

I found this poem a fitting tribute for my grandfather -- a Harvard-educated renaissance man, lover of poetry, graceful ballroom dancer, a veteran -- dashing and courageous. He introduced me to the poems of Robert W. Service and the stories of Bret Harte.

My father is a veteran, also, and my uncle flew combat air missions in VietNam. David's grandfather and at least one of his great uncles were veterans, as well. The USS Loeser (pronounced LOH-zer) was named after David's "Uncle Art," who was killed in WWII.

On Memorial Day we remember those who died in war. And by extension, it seems right to remember those who are and were willing to die in war.

Soldiers and farmers are frequently given as examples for believers in Scripture. I am blessed to have both in my family.

(This copy from Poetry Foundation website):

O Captain! My Captain!

Related Poem Content Details

BY WALT WHITMAN

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, 

The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won, 

The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, 

While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; 

                         But O heart! heart! heart! 

                            O the bleeding drops of red, 

                               Where on the deck my Captain lies, 

                                  Fallen cold and dead. 

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; 

Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills, 

For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding, 

For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; 

                         Here Captain! dear father! 

                            This arm beneath your head! 

                               It is some dream that on the deck, 

                                 You’ve fallen cold and dead. 

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, 

My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will, 

The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done, 

From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won; 

                         Exult O shores, and ring O bells! 

                            But I with mournful tread, 

                               Walk the deck my Captain lies, 

                                  Fallen cold and dead.

Source: Leaves of Grass (David McKay, 1891)

My Friends' Moms

I love this piece. Thinking of all of my friends' moms growing up, and the Navy moms on different bases, and my own delightful friends who mother my own kids, too, in their own way.

The New Yorker, My Friends' Moms

Last Day

It's 10:30 pm on a Friday night and I'm about to clap shut my laptop. Today is my last day as a homeschooling mom.

I have taught anywhere from one to three of my kids at home for the past 12 years. (And none of them have ever been in five-day school.) All three are headed to a regular, brick-and-mortar, five-day-a-week school next year for 8th, 9th, and 12th grade. Radical.

Like all big endings, it has been a little anticlimactic: hassling one child to finish one final test, shuffling through files, last minute grading, an impromptu grocery store run, realizing transcripts will be polished up next week rather than today. Not with a bang but a whimper.

But it feels momentous to me.

Thank you, and goodnight, to homeschooling's curious, wild, busy, funny, angsty, peaceful, "lovely, dark, and deep" ride.

Our family has been viewed as kooky and offbeat.

We been viewed as conservative and authoritarian.

We've been viewed as rebels, madmen, and saints.

Of course we are none of these -- or perhaps all of these. Just like any family trying to creatively "do" life in the way that seems to fit with our lifestyle, resources, values, and needs.

I've been a terrible mom, I've been an amazing mom -- sometimes all in the same hour.

My children are quirky in some ways, brilliant in some ways, regular in most ways. Just like yours.

I have a shrewd, natural test-taker, and one who used to bomb standardized tests.

I have kids with different learning styles, different strengths, and different test scores. I have a math avoider and one who "hates" reading. (Though lately this kid has started talking animatedly about his reading.) One has been in learning therapy pretty regularly (and benefited greatly).

I have a philosopher, an engineer, and a pragmatic businesswoman. I have a child who carefully lines up pencils and ruler in the workspace and keeps a detailed calendar; I have one who can't find homework.

I've taught my kids in China and America, on the east coast and in the southwest. In the kitchen, in the bedroom, in the library, in the car.

I've used material from the internet, from neighbors, from friends, from books.

I've personally seen and experienced the kind of resources and co-ops that spring up in freedom-rich cultural and legal environments (Texas!) -- and the dearth of same in educationally narrow-minded and culturally parochial parts of the country.

Some of my best friends are other homeschooling moms. And some of my other best friends are not. I have gained wisdom from both about parenting.

The kids and I have worked so closely together, with all of our flaws and strengths. I have learned some basic things.

It's counter-intuitive, but start work each day with the youngest before you work with the older kids. Make sure everyone reads aloud each day. Let each do math at the time of day when they are mentally fresh. Take a short break every 30 minutes. Pick the curriculum that appeals to you as much as it appeals to them. Encourage each kid to study in his own way (eg, one kid may study by orally telling you all about what is going to be on the test, one kid may study by making flashcards. Both ways are fine and I only figured that out this year). Three words: Saturday morning chores. Have a short family devotion every morning -- ie, reflect on the forest before you head for the trees. Laughter really is the best medicine. Laugh easily, pray hard.

Most of these things I learned the hard way. And so many other things I still have not figured out. Homeschooling did not come naturally to me.

Somehow, the kids are alright. Not amazing. Not terrible. Like yours.

Gooodnight, homeschooling. I'm going to miss you.

And tomorrow I am finally going to catch up with the laundry.

"He is happiest, be he king or peasant, who finds peace at home." Goethe

Stopping by Woods

...written and read by Robert Frost -- read when he was an older man.

Whose woods these are I think I know

Farm to Table

Check out Cartermere Farms here in North Texas, owned and operated by a creative, enterprising family who also attend my son's university model school.

"You can go online and order from the farm and pick up at the farm between 3:30-5:30 on Friday. Www.cartermerefarms.com. We have eggs, honey, freshly milled grains, jalapeno jellies, prickly pears and basil. More to come from our fall crops soon."

Stories Make You Smarter and More Empathetic

Reading fiction is good for you.

http://blog.theliteracysite.com/how-reading-fiction-improves-intelligence/?utm_source=twc-twcfan&utm_medium=social-fb&utm_term=090915&utm_content=link&utm_campaign=how-reading-fiction-improves-intelligence&origin=

Self Loathing at Evangelical Colleges

Succinct, honest, and thoughtful: from First Things:

Evangelical Colleges and Self Loathing

"You make eloquent the tongues of infants"

A home schooling friend sent me this prayer, cited at the Aquinas College website as one of Thomas Aquinas's prayers. It's a good one for those beginning their studies in a new school year or on a new school day. It's also a good one for those whose work is study.

Here is part of the prayer:

Ineffable Creator...

You are proclaimed
the true font of light and wisdom,
and the primal origin
raised high and beyond all things

Put forth a ray of your brightness
into the darkened places of my mind;
disperse from my soul
the twofold darkness
into which I was born;
sin and ignorance

You make eloquent the tongues of infants.
refine my speech
and pour forth upon my lips
the goodness of your blessing.

Grant to me
keenness of mind,
capacity to remember,
skill in learning
subtlety to interpret,
and eloquence in speech.

May you
guide the beginning of my work,
direct its progress,
and bring it to completion.

You who are true God and true man,
who live and reign, world without end.

Amen

Who Cares about Homer and Shakespeare?

David sent this along to me today -- sensible reasons and practical ways for all students to read and study the classics -- even business majors. But I posted this mainly for the stories about Catholic school (which I attended in high school).


The Suicide of the Liberal Arts

Check Your White, Female Privilege

In the New York Times, Ross Douthat counters Milbank et al's arguments that the only way for Planned Parenthood to provide family planning services is for them also to provide baby-in-the-womb dismemberment services.

There Is No Pro-Life Case for Planned Parenthood

It's good to point out when the actual narrative conflicts with the establishment narrative. In these videos, the antagonists are women, the victims are predominantly minorities, and the hero is a white male. Time for PP to check its white, female privilege.

Paper airplanes

Paper airplanes: warm, sweet ad about a military childhood, and about fathers, sons, and good neighbors.

Paper airplanes

"Behold, I make all things new."

"When we preach the gospel, we preach the promise of new life,
new mind,
new hope,
new purpose,
new union with Christ,
new company of the Holy Spirit,
new pardon of sin,
new affinity for repentance and closeness with God,
new love of the law,
new ability to obey,
new understanding of why God demands chastity outside of marriage and fidelity inside of marriage,
new patience with people who do not yet know Jesus,
new perspectives of suffering and affliction, addiction and change,
new hatred of our own sin and patience with the sin of others,
new responsibilities,
new heartaches,
new friendships,
a new family from within the body of Christ,
new allegiances,
new dangers, and
new grace.

I needed the expulsive love of my risen Savior to whisper in my ear that my burgeoning conviction of sin was truer than what my flesh craved."

-- Rosaria Butterfield in Openness Unhindered 

(with my formatting)

Nothing Like a Fish without a Bicycle

My retrospective on Elisabeth Elliot at The Gospel Coalition blog.

Elisabeth Elliot has died. I didn’t know her, but this feels personal. Her books were influential to me as a young single woman in the early 1990s, particularly Passion and Purity and Let Me Be a Woman. At a time in my life when I had become weary of worldly pursuits, aside from the example and words of my own mom, Elliot’s words most shaped for me a vision of what biblical womanhood could look like.

Vigorous, Gentle Womanhood 

I met her once as a single working girl about 20 years ago at a mission home where she was visiting and giving a talk. She was older even then, sitting in a chair, neatly dressed, hair carefully in place, wrinkly and rather still, with bright, intelligent eyes that betrayed an active sense of humor. 

 

The way she lived her life and spoke about her adventures and marriages displayed a type of womanhood that caught my imagination. She seemed to own a womanhood that was both vigorous—physically and intellectually—and gentle. 

 

The lives of female missionaries are a sort of bas relief against Western wranglings over things like gender quotas and free contraception. Elliot seemed to have a seasoned, sensible knowledge that came from rugged, basic pursuits—a sharp intellect and a sense of context and keen perspective born out of her edgy life experience as a missionary to unreached tribes. (The unentitled at work seeking the unreached.)

A Third Way Woman

Both the anti-feminist and the anti-delicate flower, she taught what I came to think of as a “third way” of womanhood that seemed like Ruth and that Proverbs 31 woman with her strong arms, shrewdness, and nurturing ways. 

 

I recall her description of life in the jungle. Most of the day was consumed with merely trying to live rather than translating Scripture. I recall her description of the focus, effort, and energy required to make sure water was found, hauled, kept, and boiled each day while keeping a toddler from falling into the fire or water. I also recall her frank humility about her failings and missteps. I learned from her books the profound value of the ministry of the mundane, and the efficiency of biblically training indigenous peoples where possible.

 

In her writing she was direct but not harsh, open but not coarse. In her vigorous femininity, and in her teamwork with and delight in the masculinity of her husbands, she seemed more like some sort of American pioneer woman and nothing like a fish without a bicycle. More like Phoebe or Dorcas and nothing like a Diva. 

A Nurtured Faith for the Next Generation

Elliot nurtured her faith with a disciplined mind fixed on selfless service to the world. She approached her marriages with a mind fixed on pursuing engaging, active partnership, and, yes, submission to a husband. And in her books she reached out to countless people with a simple, clear, direct style of writing.

 

I am thankful for her example, and as a 44-year-old mother of three, I want to commend her writings to the next generation of “third way women.”

Simple Fashion Advice from the French

I'm posting this as I sit here in my flip-flops and exercise shorts. Maybe someday I'll incorporate this consistently. Hope springs eternal...

No More Yoga Pants: How to Dress Like a Frenchwoman