Friday, February 06, 2009

Revamped my blogroll today. I hadn't realized that Blogrolling company has been down since October (I think),and I haven't been able to edit my list. I had to input into blogger by hand as Blogroller wouldn't or couldn't let me in to cut and paste. So, if I left anyone off or someone new wants to be on my blogroll, just ask in the comments.

Thursday, February 05, 2009





Here's Peace on the new and very cool couch in his room. He's coughing his guts out and sick, but he looks comfortable, right?
The couch folds out into a lounge chair, two lounge chairs, and the back also folds down like a lawn chair to make a bed. Little feet can be pulled out from zippered slots on the cushion for the lounge chair positions. My mom asked it it was a futon or a fold out couch. Buck explained to her that it is a hybrid couch. Aren't we green now?

On the opposite side of the room from where Peace is resting is the new bedroom suit we snatched up on Sunday from someone locally on Craig's list. Love that site! The seller said she's just posted it before I emailed her. Good thing I did, because by the time my husband went to look at it, she'd had three more calls. He bought it on the spot, because she was selling it for such a great price. She's an older woman getting married and consolidating households. This set had been in her guest room.

Last week, this room contained raggedly nasty berber carpet, school shelves, school table, a partition and Peace's worldly belongings. Homeschool supplies have now become part of the kitchen. It's a little crammed, but it's going to work. The kids and I removed an outdated wallpaper border from Peace's room- tedious. I patched and scrubbed to prepare for the entire family to paint together. Buck installed the beautiful floor.

Anyhow, Peace now has a room he can comfortably share with our guests. So, we are waiting for your call if you ever need a place to stay in Tennessee.

The rest of the house in recovery mode. All Peace's stuff has been strewn throughout the kitchen, living room and halls. There's nothing like a mess to create a dumping ground for other mess. The children have been playing in the snow and chucked their gear everywhere- boots here, gloves there, coats over shelves, hats hanging from lamps. You get the picture. I've gathered it all and am in the midst of mountains of laundry. All I really want to do is take the book I'm reading and go and hang out with Peace in his lovely space. Sigh...

Sunday, February 01, 2009

So what did you do Super Bowl Sunday?

I woke up with a bee buzzing in my bonnet about getting my children back on track in terms of contributing to our household. It seems they only have time for the things for which they want to do. Movies, games, books, legos, dolls, Facebook, itunes. You get the picture. The rules 'round here require tidy rooms before use of media, yet not one child's room comes close to orderly. And I've seen plenty of movie watching and computer time.

Also, they have been bucking bedtime and sleeping in. I begged Buck to help rally the troops, and he and I tried. The proof will be in the pudding.

Today all the boys helped me (without one complaint) scrape an annoying wallpaper border in preparation for a much needed fresh coat of paint in Wise One's room. You see, we've decided to make Wise One's room a teenage hang-out/guest room instead of part homeschool part sliver of a bedroom for Wise. He needs more space, all the kids need another place to go with friends. It's not something I like to do on Sunday at all, but we have a very short time to paint before Buck must quickly get to installing the floor. If you want to feel great about the state of your house, come visit us. We have books, boxes and furniture strewn in all rooms. There's wallpaper shreds everywhere as well. It's not easy losing the homeschool room, and we've got to find another place to house my addictions- books.

Pooh Bear took on an animal chore as well. She's our official morning chicken scratcher. Buck gave her lessons on filling the bucket and whizzing the corn chunks
across the back yard.

Wish us luck on the makeover. We've got our work cut out for us this week.

Oh, we did catch the Superbowl and that 100 yard touchdown. However, I had to sneak off for Sense and Sensibility on PBS at 9. Love that Jane Austin.

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

The Prodigal God

I've always believed "prodigal" meant "wayward". However, Keller titles his book, The Prodigal God which doesn't exactly fit my perception of God according this definition. According to Keller, wayward is not at all the meaning of prodigal. He insists it "means to spend extravagantly." Now there's something to think about.

I've already rethought The Parable of the Prodigal Son in my Catechesis of the Good Shepherd training. With the children, we refer to the same parable as The Forgiving Father instead, so that the essential element of the parable, The Father is the central focus. Though I believe in sin and and depravity of man, in my heart of hearts, I understand putting the emphasis on God's Great Work rather than our falleness to be a far more effective presentation of the gospel.

Keller takes Forgiving Father to an even higher plane for me by accentuating that He outgave his child to win him back. Maybe you have heard the saying, "You can't outgive God." The Prodigal God draws the prodigal son back with his extravagant kindness. How compelling is the image of the Father longing, scanning over the horizon and then breaking into a run, arms flung wide, to embrace the son who was lost? The Parables of The Lost Sheep, The Lost Coin, and the merchant in The Pearl of Great Price leap to mind changing my thoughts more charitably towards the lost son in light of the Prodigal God.

My favorite sermon ever was given on this very subject by a humble man, Joe Green, studying in Bible College allowed to speak at a small Sunday night service. I think Joe's words instructed me as profoundly as Keller's. Joe suggested the crux of the parable hung on the characters of the servants. I could not for the life of me see where he could go with that point as he narrated the story in his simple way. When he got to the servant's role near the end, I believe Joe got it right. Joe suggested the turning point of the lost son's thoughts were on the servants, the way His Father treated them with such care. The son examined the respect and dignity offered by his father to his hired hands and knew with more certainty than ever before, home with his father was better than anywhere else in the end.

These are my thoughts for this day. Any thoughts you have on this to add?

Friday, January 23, 2009

Self Esteem Myths

Low self esteem is a term I find to be unhelpful. To me, it implies one can do something or have something done for him/her to raise self esteem from low to high. Though it tortures me to say, I cannot help my son who despises himself. After living his entire 13 years on earth with us, he still clings to the rejection he experienced from his birth parents and holds me in particular responsible and at bay. If he were a fancy tea cup, I could keep filling him with praise of his many accomplishments and talents, but his delicate broken vessel leaks like a sieve.

Why? Self esteem has always and will forever come from within. No outside source can provide it. No counselor, mom, dad, friend, relative, pastor, boss, enemy delivers self esteem to the inside of another person. It's either there, or it isn't. There nothing more difficult than watching a child not being able to heal.

My son spends his day spreading chaos and doesn't have the slightest idea how to stop himself. Here's one way he wreaks havoc: he incessantly chatters and interrupts anyone in a ten foot range about how very important he is to every conversation and situation. He's searching desperately for the affirmation he does not possess inside. This empty self-important talk frustrates and inflames those close to the source, especially his brothers and sister. He's the king of one-up-manship. My days at home with him are spent keeping the boy at bay from building conflict with others. However, he perceives himself to “be in trouble” when I ask him to stay in the same room with me or go to his room to deescalate an intense situation he's ignited.

Those outside our family tend to feel sorry for him, because he must not “get what he needs from home” to have such sob stories. He outright tells people he just met, “I'm 13 and my mom and dad never let me fill in the blank,but they let my brothers do it all the time.” Buck and I are made out to be Cinderella's wicked step parents in his untrusting brain.

After the death of his friend in October, our son suddenly stopped the chatter and chaos for two entire months. He became peaceful, centered, serious about trusting me. I felt like finally he'd come to understand he did not have to self-protect but could be completely open to our family's love. I could breathe deeply that his life would take the turn we all needed it to for the better.

Then one day in mid-December, my oldest son, Peace, came home totally stressed from an injustice at school during finals week. Peace began nipping and biting everyone at home with his misplaced frustration, and I began clumsily grasping at straws to reign in all his bad karma. For two days I did something I have been endeavoring to abstain from since July- I argued with Peace. In retrospect, I shoulda let the consequences play out from his stinky choices, but instead I let my lower self take over and pronounced, “You are a fool and an idiot if you think...” Immediately, my other son with no self esteem reacted with, “If you are going to call names of Peace like fool and idiot then I certainly will not ever trust you again.” And he hasn't. He instantly flew back in full swing self-important chatter and bedlam. I hoped it was a bump in the road, and I all out apologized in front of him to Peace. It wasn't a bump- it's back to the self protective lifestyle for over a month now.

Last week, my son came to me and said, “I need to call my counselor,” after compiling a list of the all the things he felt I was doing wrong. No worries for me about this- these counselors know me, faults and all, and have all our best interests in mind. The counselor gave my son a teddy bear this summer and asked him to care for it as if it were his little self. The counselor suggested on the phone that my boy might be too hard on his little self and might want to tell his bear so. Such a good shame removal tool- as I said before, the child despises his self.

Since his call last week, I've seen my son white knuckling his way through the day, trying to do what is right. The grace he found after his friend's death is gone, and he's trying to will good behavior from himself. It's like watching an addict trying to stay away from crack in an opened bag on the kitchen counter. He'll start a conflict and back away saying, “Why are you mad at me?” Truthfully, it has been irritating to watch him “not getting it...still and again.”

He called his counselors again this week and told them he was doing a great job staying on course. I gave an invisible internal “oh, brother” eye roll as I listened to him talk. When they asked me if I also noticed him doing a great job I asked, “How do I honor the effort when I see him failing?” They encouraged me to press in and connect as much as I can with him. He'll work with me sometimes when they ask. He let me hold him, look into his eyes, lead him in listening prayer.

I didn't understand his huge backslide until my friend clarified it for me. After all, the initial conflict that shut our relationship down in December had been between his brother Peace and I and had absolutely nothing to do with him- except that he was listening. My friend explained, “Your son takes ownership of every.single. problem. in your home. He thinks he's the cause of everything. He is incapable of separating his issues out.” So, the boy carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, and it must be heavy. How sad. Her words ignited compassion I've been lacking since his re-eruption.

So how to patch up the holes in his leaking cup? That's a long road, less taken. And we are on it.
I'll keep reminding myself that correcting low self esteem is impossible, and that accepting my son and all his mess is key to his own self acceptance.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Though I was moved beyond words at the inaugural ceremonies today, Buck said something on the light side:

I wonder if Obama will live up to the audacity of hype.

Do you think he can?

Thursday, January 15, 2009

Buck explained to me that high school tomorrow is in, but all absences are excused, because it's cold. It's certainly not that there is a snowflake for miles around. Apparently we don't do snow in Tennessee any longer. Peace chimed in with Buck, "Of course, I want to go if school is open. I love school!"

Buck and I searched Peace's face to find some hint of sarcasm. None. Really. None. I suppose our curious reaction triggered the following speech:

"Mom, Dad, I'm not joking. I. Love. School. All my classes. Today some kids were complaining about hating school. I explained that school is their opportunity to make something of themselves. I talked about how they'd better start taking their education seriously, or they'll be eating out of dumpsters in the freezing cold while I'll be living the cool life in a warm apartment."

I asked Buck and Peace, "Is there any way to bottle up his exuberance and keep it all four years of high school?" Oh, I know it won't last, but how I wish it could.
Thanks to the very thoughtful tutorial by Thicket I have a blog header for the very first time!

Monday, January 12, 2009

Did our President really say misunderestimated today? What does this mean? I should be able to tell, because I make up useful words on the spot every. single. day. However, I'm dumbfounded on this one.

misunderestimated- underestimated in one way, but one really should have been underestimated in a totally different way.

Right? Help the girl.

Flinging out a completely new seventeen letter word on television is some awesomely bold leadership which Obama can only hopificate to reproductify.

Thursday, January 08, 2009

Christopher Columbus and I in 2008

I've been mentally working on a list of favorites discoveries of mine last year. Mind you, me discovering something is something like saying Christopher Columbus found America when we all know it was beautiful land already inhabited with Native Americans long before his arrival.

These are things which I've stumbled across this year which have mattered to me.

1. Toothtunes- musical toothbrushes which sing a song only while a child has the brush remains in motion for 2 minutes. Why is this so important? My children simply didn't brush well enough and long enough before. This tool lets 'em know to keep at it longer than the obligatory 20 second swoosh. Even my teenagers think it's funny enough to use them.

2. The Hawk and the Dove- I've owned this trilogy a very long time, but I never quite made it through the first few chapters. I finally buckled down to read it through, and it is hands down the best book I've ever read. The insight into the woundedness of people and their necessary yet unlikely path to healing changed the way I think about human behavior.

3. Coldplay- Okay, they've been around a long while, but I just didn't know how much I liked them till Viva La Vida. Favorite song on that album is Death and All His Friends. "No, I don't want to battle from beginning to end. I don't want to cycle and recycle revenge. I don't want to follow death and all his friends."

4. Building the Bond of Attachment by Daniel Hughes opened my eyes to a new way to be with and guide hurt and exasperating child. The book is a fictitious case study on attachment disorder.

5. Watching my oldest son succeed and delight in the school setting.

6. My new comfort bike and the trips I've made with my sons. I especially remember the time I was fiddling with the gears on the first and very uncomfortable bike I started out with last summer. Surreptitiously, I ran smack dab into the back of Peace's bike which sent us both flying head over heel into the grass. We laughed till we cried.

7. Learning strategies how to not to argue and be a strong parent in unity with my husband. Did I ever post about WALTER? I still fail terribly, but at least I understand new ways to deal.

8. Reading The Secret Garden with my daughter. She doesn't mind my fake English accent one bit.

9. Kicking back with the best people on the planet for birthdays and sundry get- togethers.

10. Playing Clue and Earthopoloy/Monopoly with my family.

11. Making fried green tomatoes from my very own garden nearly every single day of the summer.

12. Finding over-the-top red flowered half reading glasses. Now I can read fine print and laugh at myself at the same time.

13. Watching my mother make a full recovery from brain surgery. That's something of a miracle to behold.



I'll stop here though there are many more, but I'll have to pay attention to my children some time today. Shoot, maybe we'll even homeschool a bit.

Wednesday, January 07, 2009

Why I'm not blogging about New Year's Resolutions, besides the fact that I haven't made any:

Never tell anyone that you're writing a book, going on a diet, exercising, taking a course, or quitting smoking. They'll encourage you to death.
Lynn Johnston, For Better or For Worse, 07-15-06
Canadian cartoonist (1947 - )

Saturday, January 03, 2009

L. L. Bean Shout Out


Just so you know, I positively love L.L.Bean. I don't shop there very often, but I never regret when I do. Here's why.

When Peace was a baby fifteen years ago, I decided a backpack (before there was such a thing as a diaper backpack) would be our diaper bag. We refused bottles altogether, and so we didn't have to worry about milk spills, and I liked all the handy pockets of this type of bag. I ordered a top of the line L.L. Bean navy backpack embroidered with his name across the top.

When Peace started high school last semester, he chose to carry that well worn but useful backpack instead of our family laying out $89 for the Northface or Underarmor brand name totes. It worked fine until the end of the semester when the zipper gave way as Peace tried to fit in an additional textbook probably too much in a hurry.

When I told Peace we could turn it in for a brand new one, and he laughed. "How can you exchange a fifteen year old backpack for something new? No one will do that."

Oh, yes they will. It's an L.L. Bean policy to exchange for 100% customer satisfaction. If only every company would stand by their products like that.

Today, a perfect, sturdy, new, navy, embroidered super deluxe book bag arrived on our front porch a few weeks after printing a free mailing label and dropping it at UPS for return. It practically glistened when Peace ripped it out of the fresh package, and this one's got a place for a cell phone on the straps- an invention which was distributed much later to the masses than before our original backpack. Peace is back in the textbook carrying business with flair.
I don't know how a week can fly by so quickly. Our fam drove to Florida to enjoy the sunshine and the comfort of grandparents. We visited Tampa Zoo and Clearwater Beach. The kids swam everyday even though I mostly wore a sweater. It's been good to see the bright sun, because Tennessee has been as dreary, dank, and dark as I picture Ireland or Seattle. And I've been cold ever since I set foot back in my house. We added our loud and chaotic presence to the quiet ordered home of my mother and her husband. We played games, watched shows we don't get out in the wilds of the country, and ate lots of home cooked meals.

While in Florida, Buck and I took in a movie, Seven Pounds which I recommend. I like surprises. Buck had the movie figured out in 20 minutes, but it took me nearly 30 minutes to fit the pieces together. I also like puzzles.

Buck flew home early to work, and when he wasn't working at the control tower he was working in our nasty garage. He asked me for serious purge instructions. I don't even remember exactly what was in there, so we can certainly live without it. Everything from teaching supplies to party decorations are gone and in their place- peace of mind. There is still more to be done, but there is a remarkable transformation already. Buck also did maintenance on the roof and farm chores like hoof trimming. What a man.

The kids and I were invited to my friend Piper's in Atlanta to spend the night to break up our long drive home New Year's Day. She prepared traditional black eyed peas, turnip greens, rice, chili, and even hog jowls. In the morning, she made my son, Peace, a huge birthday breakfast. Our kids haven't seen each other since they were toddlers, but you'd have never known it. They jumped in together and made fun with capture the flag in the dark and other teenagery mayhem.

We arrived at our home in time to pull out suit jackets, ties, dress shirts for ironing. Our friends held a Call to Manhood dinner for their oldest son, Hobbes, in which my husband participated, and the rest of us attended a lovely reception following. I met Hobbes' extraordinary keyboarding teacher who will have Peace in his class beginning Tuesday. Many told stories of the strong and kind character of Hobbes, and of his scholarly approach to learning. I admire his peaceful spirit and the way he stands for truth and purity.

Our grand finale of winter break will be an overnight hoopla in Deer Lodge tonight.
Then it's back to daily routines.

Thursday, December 25, 2008

Here I am sitting in my p.j.s at 2:15 in the afternoon on Christmas Day. And it's not 'cause I'm lazy. Buck and I woke up children at 7:15 and started the Christmas rituals.
Baking cinnamon rolls.
Reading the gospel account of the first Christmas.
Prayers and gifts offered to Jesus.
Buck sang his beautiful new song accompanied by his mandolin.
Opening mountains of presents spread before the tree. Our families are so generous.
Buck scurries to work, because God knows, the air traffic needs his guidance.

Turkey roasts in the oven, and it smells heavenly.

After the plethora of presents have been enjoyed, I send children to find spaces for new things in their rooms.
The boys burn the remains of crumpled wrapping paper and torn boxes.
I also ask them to thoughtfully pack for our trip tomorrow.
Next up is the laundry and lots of it, because one son had a fiberglass fiasco falling from the attic on his clothes two days in a row. All of his clothes are being washed for a second time.
We also are preparing for our animal care while we are out of town. Buck does not look forward to returning early from our trip to find our elderly cat's whims concerning the litter box. It's hit or miss, and lately it's more miss as he ages. He actually sits in the box and poops over the side. Insert eye roll here for the many times a week I must mop that floor. I've done so already once today.

Yesterday, I woke up irked knowing Buck would be working all day yesterday and most of today. It's much more fun to bear the load of preparing a feast and sharing the loveliness of the day with my husband, who always knows just how to make everything fun. Yet every year he must instead go to work on the holiday, and I fight an internal war against private sulking over the hours he's gone. I prayed yesterday morning and found a peace I hadn't ever felt before in offering this unhappy wrinkle in my Christmas plans as my gift to Jesus. I also determined to have my children in on the feast preparations. They all diligently worked along side me in the kitchen last night making of pies, fudge, dips, sides,and dough.

It may sound silly, but Peace, Pooh Bear and I have been interspersing games of gooey egg toss (thanks a million, Clay!) from Mast General Store throughout the many duties of the day. It's been a hoot. Tater and Wise One took a ride on their fancy and shiny new bicycles. I'm not sure if I'll ever see Wise One again, because he's broken into the giant box chock full o' Adventures in Odyssey he's never heard before given freely to us by a sweet friend. Pooh Bear is utterly engrossed in Felicity, her first (and probably only) American Girl Doll. Tater is listening to tunes on his new ipod purchased by his siblings for him from Craig's List. I expect Peace will remain scarce as he enjoys his new gadget.

No funk or blues here, even for me. I'm am glad of this new experience of peace in the offering of this time away from Buck.

Monday, December 22, 2008

Homeschool to High School

Peace finished his first semester of high school and the other three children have finished a semester of homeschool. Public high school had our family on pins and needles at times, but Peace has earned his first four high school credits with flying colors. We're hoping next semester will go more smoothly than the first. As with all classes, it all depends on the teacher. Makes me worry about my three children in home school. Wink.

Because Buck and have I been Peace's primary teachers for the last eight years, I worried my son might not be prepared in many ways for such a big leap. I breathe a huge sigh of relief that my worries were unfounded. Peace is a solid person who can hold his own, even through adversity, in a freshman class of five hundred.

I've learned some things in this high schooling process about teenagers. If you have been a mom of a teenager, you will know exactly what I mean when I talk about myself only holding so many teenager points at a time. The amount of points is proportionate to the power the teen feels. A teen can been made to feel powerless by injustice. These points can get sucked away from a parent by a difficult circumstance from another source for the teen. I've found the worse the problem outside our family, the less he has to give to the family. At times, Peace would come home from school with zero teenager points from impossible situations, and Buck and I would scramble for strategies to deal with a terrible grump. It has been my observation that most homeschool parents hold most of the teenager points most of the time, while school kids may have theirs torn from them.

Then why send our guy to school?

I do not love math or science, and I don't want to pass this apathy on to my science and math lovin' son. Buck has the passion but does not have time to learn and teach those subjects while being a dad to all. We tried homeschool cooperatives, but once a week teaching just wasn't enough to equip for an entire week of essential learning without parental study and preparation. It works for many homeschoolers to set their motivated children to sail, but this son has always needed more than a book and an assignment to accomplish academic studies.

Does this make high school outside of homeschool worth giving up so many teenager points? I say, "Yes" for us. The teachers he has encountered so far all thankfully love their subjects even if they are not meant to be teaching. Peace has come up against some tough circumstances with one teacher in particular and several students which have revealed the good stuff of which he is made. He's shown amazing self control and strength of character. I know I've said so before on my blog, but I admire Peace as a person.

I think the hardest lesson I've learned and I still haven't figured out all the way, is to let circumstances play out when I don't have any teenager points left. Peace says his big lessons have been how to figure out what a teacher wants, and that sometimes even that isn't enough (a bitter pill to swallow). Another downside is that he's traded a bit of his love of science due to something a little less than the ideal classroom experience. He liked both the teacher and most of the course, but there were far too many students and not enough time for the teacher to give needed feedback. I'm just used to Peace glowing after taking in new science concepts, but the shine has worn off a bit.

Peace actually thanked me for helping him "grow up" this semester when I picked him up from his last day of finals. What mom gets to hear those words during the teens? Yep, I'm lucky.

Saturday, December 20, 2008


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Wise One turns twelve today.

Here's my best advice- try not to have three of four children around the holidays, especially if they are not all the same gender. Girl and boys have very different ideas about parties. Wise One has spent the night with a friend on his birthday to escape a gaggle of giggling little girls about to invade our home for Pooh Bear's party.

Monday, December 15, 2008


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Pooh Bear is eight today. Where has the time gone?

Thursday, December 11, 2008

I asked Buck for permission to post this. He doesn't mind the enormous amount of humor I find in his idiosyncrasies.

A few nights ago at 2:18 a.m., Buck bolted upright in the bed. Then he dashed to the bathroom. I soon after heard some loud thuds and I called out, "Buck?"

When he didn't answer I collected my sleepy self and lunged in the dark toward the bathroom calling, "Buck?" again more urgently.

Was he's unconscious? Should I wake up the kids and drag his body to our van? Should I just call 911? At this point he weakly answered, "Yeah?"
I got to the bathroom door and found him standing up looking mighty confused. He rubbed a red spot on his head.

"Did you faint, love?" I asked.
"I think so," he muttered.
"Do you understand why?"
"Yes."
"Can you explain it to me?"

To enjoy and appreciate his answer, you must understand that Buck is not a fan of medical procedures. In fact, the thought of taking his blood pressure renders him incapacitated. He's also passed out entirely while having a simple x-ray.

So, why did he lose conciousness in the bathroom a few nights ago?

He sheepishly replied, "Well, I dreamed I was having a severe medical problem, so I ran to the bathroom to make sure it was just a dream. But I was probably thinking too much about the medical problem, so I felt light-headed..."

Don't worry. Buck is totally able to man-up when push comes to shove when the kids or I am hurt. This happens only when he's considering, even dreaming of the effects of treatment on himself.

Monday, December 08, 2008

one word meme

Meme found at Thicket Dweller's
Where is your mobile phone? desk
Where is your significant other? here
Your hair colour? red
Your mother? trip
Your father? home
Your favourite thing? husband
Your dream last night? unremembered
Your dream goal? love
The room you're in? warm
Your hobby? reading
Your fear? hurry
Where do you want to be in 6 years? independent
Where were you last night? home
What you're not? flawless
One of your wish-list items? countertops
Where you grew up? Kentucky
The last thing you did? lunch
What are you wearing? slacks
Your TV? off
Your pets? plenty
Your computer? Dell
Your mood? reflective
Missing someone? yes
Your car? van
Something you're not wearing? girdle
Favourite shop? market
Your summer? difficult
Love someone? abundantly
Your favourite colour? blue
When is the last time you laughed? yesternight
When is the last time you cried? yesternight

Friday, December 05, 2008

A Homeschool Conversation

Me: (on a fill in the blank) One uses it to fish.

Pooh Bear: A catcher!

Me: What's the name of the catcher?

Pooh: A fishing pole.

Me: What's at the end of a fishing pole?

Pooh: A pole, silly.

Me: The other end?

Pooh: A string.

Me: At the end of the string?

Pooh: A worm.

Me: Worms just squiggle away. How do you catch the fish?

Pooh: Oh yeah, on the hook!

Me: (I wipe the sweat from my brow)

Tuesday, December 02, 2008


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Eleven years ago,the state of Tennessee recognized that our son Tater became a Vyne. Buck says God knew this before the foundations of the world.

Happy Adoption Day, our precious son.

Saturday, November 29, 2008

Help!


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QUICK! I need ideas. My daughter wants the traditional Sound of Music birthday party in two weeks. Oh dear, oh dear, dear me.
We're gonna make some of the favorite things like blue satin sashes, snow flakes, and ask for presents to be wrapped in brown paper tied up with string. Pooh Bear insists on jam and bread instead of cake. She nixed my idea of wedding cake (ya know, Maria does get married). Maybe I can sneak in some crisp apple strudel. Will party guests be dreadfully disappointed or humor my daughter's whim? My boys agreed to dress up like Nazi's, carry flashlights, and blow whistles for some good old hide 'n seek. Pooh Bear wants to wear a habit. My husband must learn to play Edelweiss on mandolin and lead a sing-along. And we can play musical chairs to the soundtrack. How about a yodeling contest? We do have a goat herd already, but I'm not sure if they cooperate if we added strings to them for puppets. My niece thinks I could teach the "So, long farewell dance. Too ambitious? Also we thought of making clothes out of draperies somehow, but...

And do children, besides mine, even know about musicals besides High School Musical anyway? Oh dear, again.

Any more incredibly creative ideas? I sure could use them.

Wednesday, November 26, 2008


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The Vyne's are piling into the van this afternoon to head to the mountains to be with family. Looking back, I couldn't be more thankful. Last year, my mother requested we come spend Thanksgiving with her thinking she might not ever be whole again after brain surgery. I'm delighted that she is healthy, whole and healed from those traumatic days.
Here are some other things for which I am thankful:
Great and healthy kids.
Family on both sides who love and support us.
Living in heaven on earth on our pretend farm.
My best friend and husband who stands right beside me every step of the way.
Healthy animals (for the most part).
The best kind of friends.
An abundant garden.
Fresh eggs.
Well running vehicle.
Warm house.
Ample clothing.
Exercise.
Work.
Christmas.

There is more, but I'll have to stop for now.

Friday, November 21, 2008


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Yesterday I stopped in at Office Depot looking for something my son will needs next semester. I searched the aisles for the item myself with no luck though I found many similar items.

I passed by a Super Geek on my way to the help desk pondering whether or not to ask him. His scholarly glasses covering scrunched black eyes and lack of fashion prowess indicated a certain knowledge of all things gadgety. I myself was wearing black sweat pants which are entirely too short with a very unmatching green sweater.Did I mention my white and red running shoes? So, it's not like I have any room to criticize what not to wear... and on top of my dressing inadequacies, I certainly don't emit a copious amount of brain waves which benefit the planet. Anyhow, Super Geek looked engrossed in an important technological discussion on his black headset with another employee across the store, so I marched up to a handsome young man behind the help desk. You know, eye candy for someone about 20 years younger than myself.

"Hi," I say.

"Hey," he answers with a confident smile on his face, in a friendly customer service tone, making good eye contact.

"I'm looking for a very nerdy calculator which I know absolutely nothing about. It's called something Nspire, and it's for people who can actually perform higher mathematical equations than myself," I announce.

"Oh, that I wouldn't know nearly as much about that as Matt. Let me call him." Yep, he contacts Super Geek to help me out.

Super Geek is called to me but cannot stand to make eye contact. He walks toward the aisle I'd previously visited without a word. He searches the rack, and says without enthusiasm, "Not here. We had 'em when school started, but they're all gone."

"Um, could I order one?" I suggest.

"From here? Why don't you go to the dealer or something," still in dead pan.

"Like Texas Instruments?" I inquire.

"Prolly something like texasinstruments.com. I don't know. You could order one at the desk I guess," he mutters.

"K, thanks," I offer as he suddenly walks off in another direction.

And there, my friends, is a lesson in how to not to close a deal. I checked officedepot.com and sure enough, one can order them from Office Depot.

That calculator is the most expensive one I've ever seen. What was Super Geek thinking? Maybe he was seriously contemplating some math problem in his brain I couldn't begin to solve.

Note to self: All that, "Please look in my eyes when we are talking" with my children hopefully will make a difference in their future.

Monday, November 17, 2008


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It's something of a miracle, but you might not understand. I only know that change happens from the inside out, and I so rarely am allowed glimpses inside the heart of my son.

Here's the miracle. The phone rang. It was for my boy, and he sat down on my bed to chat with a friend while I typed on my computer close by. I heard, "Yes, we have a football, but it belongs to my dad. I'll ask him if we can use it."

This is the point I felt a lump forming in my throat. I turned my head, so my son wouldn't notice the salty drops about to spill from my stinging eyes. What's so darn touching about his statement? Enough to bring me to tears? Isn't it a common thing for children to ask to borrow something when it doesn't belong to them?

Not for him.

From his rough start as a foster child, he's claimed sole ownership to whatever he saw or touched in our home no matter whom it belonged to. He owned the world and we other mortals simply occupied his space. Our family has pulled together through good counsel to gently coax him to another way of being more a part of us rather than living separately. His comment above is evidence that something, no matter how small, has shifted.

In one of our counseling sessions with him this summer, my son stated what seemed to be a heart felt, "I want to really be part of this family." At the same moment of his declaration, a small butterfly came from nowhere and landed on our son's heart. No one spoke, but we smiled deeply at one another. After the butterfly took flight from her rest on my child's chest, one of the counselors whispered, "I wonder if that was a sign?" As if on cue, the little yellow butterfly returned a second time on my son's shirt over his heart. Of course, we all savored the moment.

I'd call our road rocky with this son, but isn't it lovely that there have been butterflies and other miracles along the way?

Thursday, November 13, 2008


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I was in the mood for some inspiration this morning, so I asked Eleanor Roosevelt for some help.

Here's what we came up with together.

A woman is like a tea bag- you never know how strong she is until she gets in hot water.

Do what you feel in your heart to be right - for you'll be criticized anyway. You'll be damned if you do, and damned if you don't.

Justice cannot be for one side alone, but must be for both.

No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.

It is not fair to ask of others what you are unwilling to do yourself.



She always knows just the right thing to say doesn't she?

Friday, November 07, 2008


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I'm walking a new and delicate tightrope as a parent as I learn about this beast known as the teenager. I figure I've got it easy, having three boys with which to try my ever-changing bag o' tricks first before my girl hits the years beyond twelve. If the mood swings of my sons are any indication, I'm in for big trouble when she hits hormones. I'm finding my boys have upped my game of thinking on my feet and remaining centered at all times.

I took in a couple of very interesting facts at my conference a few weeks ago. The first felt real and so very true- teens believe they are living their own personal fable. No one could ever loved as deeply as they have. No one has ever wanted to make the basketball team more than they have. No one could possibly understand their unique circumstances enough. The second also got me nodding briskly in agreement- teens have an imaginary audience watching them all the times. They believe everyone is observing them in particular, and it truly is all them.

The fables arising from my boys are sometimes precious and other times annoying. I love the fact that all three believe they can do or be anything. Watching the Olympics, I heard their remarks like, "I could do that!" I adore it when my children say, "My coach says I could be top in the state if I applied myself." The annoying part can be when don't make the effort. I must remind myself that sampling many things instead of a single focus can be a great thing as well at this developmental stage of personal mission. Peace cracked me up the other day that his "science fan club" made up a myth about him living on the farm which was the setting for E.B. White's Charlotte's Web. Teens can be fantastic storytellers.

The part about the imaginary audience has hit all three boys as well. It took only a few weeks for Peace to drop his public bird calling with the event of entering high school. Tater constantly talks about the girls who can't take their eyes off him. Wise One hushes our family members in public situations when he feels embarrassed at some perceived spectacle we're making.

I'm blessed to say that though my kids attend and absolutely enjoy social events, we still have loads of fun, maybe even the most fun, together. I wonder what the day will be like when their wings ache to fly from this nest to make their own? I'm getting glimpses of such things when Peace throws an "I certainly know how to do this better than you ever could" barb my way. I've been learning how to step quietly and deliberately out of his way in this case and escape to a fulfilling task for myself till he is practically desperate (and humbled) for my help, or he simply finds his own way. Thus the tightrope analogy at the beginning of this post.

Wednesday, November 05, 2008



Taken yesterday before our hike to Fall Branch Falls, my new favorite place on earth.
The first time I voted, I voted for Dukakis. Oh my, that's embarrassing to admit.

Every election since, I've voted for the winner until last night. Even though I didn't get my way, I am so very proud to have a black leader as a President Elect. I'm proud to live in a country where anything is possible, and the vote is a way for us to speak out. I'm astounded at the peaceful transfer of power in a democracy.

Barak's "government for the people and by the people" message resonated with me four years ago as I watched him speak at the DNC. His elegance and eloquence captured me, yet we all know his roots are much more like an everyman. I pray his less privileged upbringing keeps him connected and grounded to everyday people. I also pray for his safety and for wisdom in leading this country.

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Monday, November 03, 2008


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I wouldn't dream of telling you who to vote for in tomorrow's election, but I will beg you to vote. I heard on NPR that 40 million Americans do not bother. Please don't be one of them.

How can such apathy exist? After all, our right to vote has been bought at a steep price.

Thursday, October 30, 2008

The adventures of the last week have left me spinning, dizzy from the fun and learning.

First, I abandoned Buck and took the children to Dyersburg, TN. Never heard of it? I hadn't either until my dear friend Mac moved her family there. We piled our eight children together in her lovely new home on the lake and had a blast. Five of the children are stinky teenaged boys with Wise One as the eleven year old exception. Every time I opened the door to the boy's room to check on them, I gasped for lack of fresh air among the stifling body odor from boys who tromped through the woods and paddled canoes all weekend with little regard to personal hygiene. Mac and I forced a parade of showers a few times. The girls played dolls and led canoe adventures to mysterious islands as well.

We had one expensive fatality. Mac asked Peace to keep his cellphone with him, so we could literally call the mob of young men in for dinner. At some point, Wise One caught Peace off balance in the canoe, and Peace fell into the lake rendering his cell phone useless forevermore.

Mac cooked an awful lot for the masses and let me rest many times over the visit. We held a weenie and s'more roast over a fire in the crisp autumn air. She and her husband grilled a celebratory sabbath meal of shark, swordfish, and steak on our last evening. We shared prayer and communion together.

Mac also helped me pull together a bit of remaining choreography for a dance I prepared for the conference the following weekend. She and I figured out a dance language together some years ago, and it didn't take long to sew up the details I lacked for a lovely presentation.

Our group also visited Reelfoot Lake. It's a lake which was created by an earthquake and the Mississippi River flowing backwards for the first known time in history from the disruption of the tremors into a newly formed indention in the earth. Cool stuff, huh?

Parting was sweet sorrow, but our children demanded we schedule another visit for spring or summer.

We had an evening to at home to get Peace rested for his final cross country meet. That day I spent packing for my conference called "Weaving our Gifts". I enjoyed many workshops, a few lectures, and presented my own workshop as well. Our dance was well received in Sunday worship. Maybe sometime I'll blog about the meaningful information on teenagers I learned.

Buck has gently brought me back to real life with lots of care and nurture for me and our young people. What a gift to have someone keeping us on track and afloat.

Friday, October 17, 2008


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Heading out of town today for more than a week with one stop at home for a cross country meet. Hope all of you in bloggy world have a great one.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008



Last night, Tater found a brand spanking new clutch of eight chicks with a broody hen. She was sitting on six more eggs, and this morning there are three more tiny babies. Doesn't this momma hen know that two days before the fall weather dips down into the 50's at night is not the time to bring new chicks into this world? Buck and Tater put the proud hen, eleven peeping and adorable chicks, and the three remaining smooth eggs into a rather crowded box. Once Buck put the heat lamp on, the babies gravitated right to it. I wonder, since the timing is so off, if this bunch will make it.

Gorgeous photo taken by Tater

Sunday, October 12, 2008


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I've wanted to write just the right words about this week's experience. However, nouns, verbs, adjectives, prepositional phrases prove inadequate to convey the amazement I've felt as my son's friend lingered a few days, enough for Tater to say, "Goodbye" and was gone in a flash, like a bright flash of lightening across a black night sky. Yes, Tater was afforded the privilege of touching, smelling, talking to his unconscious friend the day before Zach entered his final rest.

The evening of his death, Zach's parents surprised us all by attending a prayer service given in support of their struggle. When the couple arrived, the children- Zach's friends, swarmed to cling to Sally and Shawn. Sally was 10 kid deep in a sobbing throng in all directions when the director asked for us to pray prayers of comfort for her. After the second sweet prayer, a strong voiced Sally stopped everyone suddenly in their tracks with something like this, "Just so you know, I already have the comfort of the Lord. I am covered with His peace. I know you have been praying for Zach, and prayers maybe did not seem to have the outcome you may have wanted. I know you wanted Zach back. I wanted him so much myself, but we have a good God. And His plan was different. I ask that you, children, not doubt God. I suppose you'll need to question Him because we are still human, but know that He is good. Zach is with Jesus in such a beautiful and better place. Please run to God and not away from Him, because Zach wants you with him one day. So, if we could please pray for these hurting children to be comforted, that is what I'd like us to do now." And as you can imagine, that is precisely what we did. Many children, including two of mine, witnessed the horrible accident. One young person hung on the zip line for several minutes while Zach was taken down from the line beside. Another young man shared his regret for letting Zach have his place in line ahead of him. A camp staff member will have to live with his mistake. Others live in unshared pain. I'll be praying for all concerned for a while to come.

Church staff and volunteers have led the middle and high schoolers through many days of grief together. A grief counselor spoke to parents and youth. I loved that our children's pastor distinguished between feeling and truth in a session with the kids. He called attention to the fact that all feelings are very real, but they may not always be true. The leader had them call out things they had thought and felt but they knew were not God's truth, "God doesn't care. He didn't love Zach. God doesn't protect. God took Zach away. I'm not safe." Then he had then voice true words about God, "Good. Loving. Kind. Compassionate. Safe. Strong." Very powerful.

Instead of a funeral, the family and church held a celebration of Zach's life. They requested no black clothing. Nineteen dozen crisp yellow sunflowers adorned our reception area.

Now it's back to the life of a mother for me and the student roles for my brood. Though I imagine we'll never be the same.

Wednesday, October 08, 2008

Sometimes the veil between death and life is so very thin like a piece of yellowed tissue paper tossed in the corner of an attic. The young man, Zachary Weimer, has passed through that fragile veil to be in the Arms of God.

No words. Just tears and prayers.

Saturday, October 04, 2008

I find myself fighting tears for the tenth time today. The sun has set, and there has been no peaceful resolution to the day's unsettling news. A friend of Tater's was airlifted from camp after an accident on the zip line. I'm told that though he wore a helmet, his skull is fractured, and he remains unconscious.

Yesterday I faintly remember an irk inside me as I filled out the medical information for the zillionth time for my own sons who are also on the camping trip, "Why do I have to always fill these things out. Nothing ever happens, and I have to round up my insurance numbers for nothing."

Yes, things do happen. We are not guaranteed another breath past this one. Every day, every moment is a gift.

The young man was taken to a hospital which I am intimately acquainted with though it is two solid driving hours away. It's where my Aunt Nell died, my Aunt Francis endured several serious surgeries, and my cousin Nadine was taken after she fell suddenly into her constant vegetative state. I've slept in the same chairs this boy's parents very likely occupy tonight as they pray their son will soon wake. I've eaten too many free dinners hosted by local churches while waiting for news of recovery or progress. I've run the breath holding gauntlet to my car through chain smokers just outside the trauma doors.

It is a mercy that this child has not awakened in one sense- the pain of a fractured skull must be unimaginable. But what his parents wouldn't give for one wink, a stir, one word, a stroke of a single finger. How dare the sun go down before he rouses?

My heart breaks. My soul prays. We want you back whole and soon, friend.

Updates can be found in the journals here if you type in his name: ZacharyWeimer (no spaces).

Quiet Morning


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The youth minister at our church lobbied hard for Peace to come to fall camp this weekend and won. Wise One tagged along as well. Tater and Buck scattered early to help a young man in our scout troop with his eagle project. Pooh Bear and her overnight guest much prefer the outdoors, so I'm inside a perfectly quiet house all. by. myself. I hear only the hum of the dryer tumbling my Saturday morning fresh sheets. I head out Friday to teach in Atlanta again, so I've got work to prepare.

I'm praying just now for my dear friend Jo who has been commissioned by her fancy church in Belle Meade to introduce Catechesis of the Good Shepherd to a simple church in Soweto, South Africa for the next two weeks. May her excellent work be received with joy. May her precious heart for children to connect to Jesus be imparted to the South African church. God bless all those with her, including her guide, Desmond Tutu's daughter. Let the work of their hands please God and bless His name.

Thursday, October 02, 2008

This year has taken the Vyne family in unexplored directions.

I haven't found the right words to blog about a particular ongoing struggle with one of our children, Tater. Buck and I continue to lay down our lives on his behalf, and I have to say I'm disappointed with the results for him but not for Buck and I. Tater experiences life differently, through the jaded lens of early pre-adoption trauma which has crippled him emotionally. As a mother, I know that if his perspective doesn't change, he will be one of those people who has to learn the hard way. And I am painfully aware that the hard way will not be pleasant to watch as a mom.

Pooh Bear remains steady and on a good path. We plod through reading one baby step at a time, and she's coming along slowly as she always has. Her love for dance grows with her Thursday class. She thoroughly enjoys an entire day at school on Tuesdays through a friend's home school enrichment program. Pooh has quickly made friends there as she does wherever she goes. Lately, I'm mulling over future navigation of a daughter through the wily road of becoming her own person among a den of challenging girl peers who exercise exclusion. It's in nearly every circle I've encountered as a woman. May God bless Pooh Bear with the kind of centering friendships I've had to get through those tight places.

Wise One exhibits the signs of growing up while still clinging to boyhood amidst teen-aged brothers. His best friend, Peace, has flown off to high school and a whirl of school activity leaving Wise One to forge new relationships. He has three particular buddies he prefers. Wise One has made leaps and bounds in physical and mental development through occupational and visual therapy this year. Many "gaps" I'd been concerned about in learning are now filled in. Just to give you a glimpse into his sweet soul, Buck found five Bibles under his bed this summer. Wise One remains most interested in his incredible relationship with God.

Peace is loving his first year of public high school after seven years of homeschooling. Though he's learning organizational and study skills he'd never been challenged with before, he's doing well in every class. It is a college prep school, and I couldn't be more pleased with the high academic expectations. I'm busting with pride sometimes when Peace talks about standing up for the underdog or putting the g'nosh on trash talk around him. He works very hard on cross country team as well. It's something to juggle a sport and the everyday challenges of homework for the first time. Peace has finally hit the maturity marker of needing to make tough decisions of setting priorities, and he's making good choices.

Buck is hanging in there with the mighty strength of a man. He's been an amazing husband and father.

The whole "keeping a school schedule after seven years of my own time", has kicked my tail. Six a.m. comes all too early. I actually wake up in the night thinking about the support Peace needs for the coming day, "What's Peace going to need to ask from his teachers when he misses school for his meet Friday?" Homeschooling the other three children and needing a nap at 2:00 in the afternoon isn't quite working out the way I hoped. I've found myself in a hard place spiritually with all the activity of doing and not so much time for just being. How can this constant motion please God? Yet He made me a mother with many needs to continually meet. Any advice?

There it is- the Vyne family update.

Monday, September 29, 2008

My Aunt sent this video to me. I am probably NOT going to show it to my sons, so they won't get any ideas at dinner.

Sunday, September 28, 2008


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Gas?

When I arrived in Atlanta this past weekend, Piper asked, "How full is your gas tank after your drive?"

"Fairly low. I didn't fill up before I came, and it's a long drive," I replied nonchalantly.

Little did I know that Atlantians must spend a good part of their days now in search of a fuel station which actually has very expensive petrol in its tanks to sell. Apparently the population of five million created far too much pollution and recently legislation kicked in which mandates a less lethal emissions from a cleaner mix of fuel. Piper's husband took his sweet little boys on a ride in my car on a crazy hunt for a station with product and stayed in a line for 1/2 an hour to fill my tank for me while Piper and I taught. God bless him! I passed at least 10 gas stations tooling around from training to Piper's and none were open either Friday or Saturday.

Here in the Greater Knoxville area, we had one or two days of a rush to the pumps which seemed like a fleeting blip on the big screen of life- the cause attributed to conversion to a new mixture of some kind including more ethanol. As a pretend farmer, I'm am bugged and honestly worried that a food source for humans and animals forms the wave of this present future.

My Atlanta weekend experience amounted to something far more eye opening. I heard more chat about alternate fuel sources in my two days further south than if I'd have struck up a conversation with Al Gore himself. I suppose this tactic of unavailability would change Americans gas guzzling habits quicker than a jack rabbit hopping from a hungry fox. And I don't have wiggle room to bash others about fuel consumption, because as I've said before- I live in heaven and drive everywhere else. The drive to my son's high school is 45 minutes one way. When I ponder moving back anywhere closer to the city though, I cringe and gasp for air at the thought. I'd have...neighbors. Gulp. And I'm the world's worst neighbor. My current neighbors, cows, don't mind my reclusive and introverted nature a bit.

Buck sent me this link concerning the gas crisis in Nashville, and it had me howling. It's rated R for language and might not make any sense unless you know a bit about Nashville.

Friday, September 19, 2008

Peter goes to Bollywood

My dear husband likes to surprise and delight me by giving me new music. He knows exactly what will make me happy and burns a cd. Today, Buck slid a new cd into my hands which we both were sure to begin a long new tunes love affair for me with Peter Gabriel's Big Blue Ball album.

A hundred years ago in 1986, I was asked to a Peter Gabriel concert by an unsavory character during the "So" tour. I liked Gabriel's sound and was curious about his presentation, so I was left with a dilemma of attending the event with someone I considered a sociopath. I conjured a plan B which included but was not limited to psyching myself up to leap out of a speeding car if necessary to brave the performance. I am so glad I did, because I will never be the same. The music and delivery moved me beyond words, so I cannot possibly do it justice with words. From the opening notes, an African band led a journey into an unfathomable array of musical and visual experiences twined together by an artist like no other, Gabriel. There were thousands in the audience, but I felt a complete immersion into the depth of the moment- forgive my sappiness here- as if Gabriel was singing just to me. I totally lost all sense that I had come with a companion. I remember hoping the guy wouldn't chat with me afterward, so I could linger in that space of contentment created during the concert. In a few short hours, I moved from liking Gabriel's stuff into a sincere fan, and I've stayed there all these years.

When I popped Big Blue Ball into my van's cd player this morning, the first song convinced me I had a delicious new love. The next few songs assured me my first impression was not all that accurate. It's much more of a World Music endeavor than songs delivered by Peter himself. I truly like cross cultural arrangements, but I was hoping for quality time with that raspy meaningful lyric only Gabriel can produce. I'll have to be somewhat satisfied with the few Gabriel gems planted among the Egyptian, African, Spanish, Hungarian collage of other artists.

I came up with my own alternate title. No, not Frankie goes to Hollywood- Peter goes to Bollywood. You might get me within listening the first four songs...

Thursday, September 18, 2008

I got a prescription for reading glasses at my last eye exam. Anyone out there surprised? It's a symbol of descent into, I don't know, elderlyness. I also plunge my toes into the cushiest slippers around my house, because my feet hurt from plantar fasciitis most of the time. I don't like loud music anymore(except David Crowder, of course). Next thing you know, I'll start popping Geritol, because I'm already taking B complex for energy. How do I stave off the rushing flood of ailments I was so certain would never happen to me? I experimented with keeping the flavor of youth close to my tongue this morning.

On my very slow run at the start of the day, I determined to skip like a giddy five year old girl no matter who was around when an Irish song come across my ipod- just during the jig parts of the music. I haven't skipped in a long time. Have you? I decided not to look into the eyes of passerbys, so as not to heap their possible disapproval on my child-like experience. I let myself ponder how much I loved childhood and it's freedoms. Nothing like giving in and seizing the joy of movement if only for a fleeting moment. I really can still skip a bit even with a bum knee, and it made me happy as a long hot shower after a full day weeding an overgrown garden.

I wonder what other forgotten trick I can still do? What makes you content as you grow older? I'd like to know.

Monday, September 15, 2008

Announcing a new real life friend's blog:

Wisdom Pursuit

This woman and I share many every day experiences, and I know the fresh perspective and insight she can offer.

Saturday, September 13, 2008


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So, have you ever been to a high school cross country meet? I hadn't until recently, and I am enlightened on yet another sport's quirks. I've never been to a golf tournament either, but I think I gather, for the first time, how the crowd moves to optimum watching spots during the course of the game. Fortunately, I am not shy to ask about such things to strangers as the experienced mothers of other runners explained where exactly to stand or walk to catch a glimpse of the young people as they plow by huffing and pouring sweat. Some runners look completely composed, while others look like it may be their last moment among the living.

On rainy or muddy days, the runner's bottom halves become spattered with polka dots and splashes of muck feet to thigh as they clomp down the natural worn paths.

The real shocker of the event comes at the end. I observed an interesting man, just past the finish line, who had a very specific job. His sole purpose was to grab fainting runners by the arm and force them to remain upright until the faltering athletes made it to the open field some distance away from the finish. Otherwise, the next strong finishers would have had to leap over a dog pile of entirely exhausted bodies. And yet another surprise awaited spectators in the open field just past the end- many of the runners threw up (oh, yes, everywhere) and collapsed in an pained heap at the next available spot in the grass. I watched one young man wheeze and gasp in an asthmatic attack limping about with his mother. It all reminded me of the some kind of strange steaming battlefield minutes after the conclusion of a relentless attack- all moaning and agony.

Makes me curious about the completion of the Boston Marathon. Is it a wall of ambulances rushing fatigued and half dead people off toward oxygen and ice baths? At least marathoners get pavement instead of turf.

Thursday, September 11, 2008


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The most inspiring story I've heard all week concerned the Spanish explorer from the 1500's, Cortes. He was a man with a serious plan; he sought the treasure of Mexico. Though many other military leaders and countries had set their minds on prying the great gold riches from these strong natives, no one had ever been successful. That is until Cortes plotted an unheard of scheme. He formed an army, sailed to the shore of Mexico, gathered all his soldiers, and ordered the ships to be stripped of anything valuable. Then he commanded something extraordinary and quite unexpected, "Burn the ships!" I suppose this is where "do or die" became literal. With no possible means of retreat, the soldiers were forced to victory.

What do I want more than anything? It's certainly not gold.
The whole "burn the ships" thing makes me wonder about my faith. Do I run for the prize set before me every day as if I can surely scoop up the laurel wreath on my red curly head for a victory lap? No hesitation, no turning back, no giving up? Or am I living more of some lame back-up plan? Am I in or out? I consider the ships I need to burn today.

Sunday, September 07, 2008

Buck thinks he knows who the nation is leaning toward in this election from standing in the check out line perusing this week's copy of US Magazine.

Buck explained the emphasis of the publication on Michelle Obama's beautiful fashions and style. On the other hand, the same reading material stressed former co-workers who found Sarah Palin difficult to work with.

Everyone knows the presidency is about depth and substance, so I'm quite sure it was a compliment to Sarah to bring out skeletons from her career closet. And what an obvious slam to Michelle, that her clothes, not the content of her character, were noteworthy.

Michelle, I'm sorry the press is being so utterly unfair to you. Perhaps the political tide will turn your way soon.

Friday, September 05, 2008

Our entire household is totally digging the Coldplay Viva la Vida and the Switchfoot Oh,Gravity CD's. Maybe it's because everyone is just very so glad I'm off my John Mayer kick. He still rocks.

Tuesday, September 02, 2008


Got a new dog Saturday through rescue. She's another Great Pyrenees who is to be a doggy friend and running mate to our previously rescued Pyr, Ripley. Of course, we named her Sarah Palin. We aren't sure if she has any young daughters who are pregnant, or if she can moose hunt. We're pretty sure she likes icy cold weather, and we hope she's a winner.

Thursday, August 28, 2008

fan club



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so, tonight i'm studying vocab with peace for a quiz tomorrow. he comes to the word
"coquette", and i ask, "peace, who's the flirtiest girl you know to help you remember the definition of this word?"

peace replies after some thought, "mom, I don't know any girls like that."

i internally grin, because he's not so cognizant of the feminine gender besides the ones he considers friends. i've been told by a few sweet older girls that he's so very obviously crush material, but i have my doubts. he does not try in any way to impress anyone. i'm red-faced to say it, and i socially die a little each time he does it; peace still makes a mourning dove bird calls with cupped hands when he's walking in public.

after another pause peace continued our conversation, "well, there is the peace fan club..."

"what?? what fan club? you have a fan club?"

"uh huh," he mutters.

i grill him with my eyes squinting and wagging my pointer finger, "come on. you are joking me,"

"no, i'm not. in honors physics there is a group of girls who call themselves peace's fan club," he defends himself.

get out! it could be some tortuous mean girl joke, which fortunately he'll totally miss, or peace has something girls like: a scientific mind.

we'll just see won't we?

maybe i should start sniffin' his backpack for perfume.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Real Church

Softly the rain caresses the tin roof in the beloved silence.
Noone need speak though there is a small hungry crowd.
Together we are moved in the Presence.
Tears fall, but we cannot know all behind the workings and the whys.

A shout, “Let it rain” breaks the quiet.

Melody creeps into the sacred moment.
It starts to rise and build, like the spire on a cathedral.
Still no words are necessary as we hold the song in our flowing hearts.
The music begins to thunder and crash under the Weight.
I've experienced nothing like it before, and it is a wonder.

Lyrics become essential suddenly in the swell, “Let it rain.”

Time stands still.

We cry out together, “Let it rain!”
One proclaims, "Lift up your heads, oh ye gates, that the King of Glory may come in!"

We drink deeply from the Well.

Monday, August 25, 2008

Where do Hardin Valley Academy students go to smoke?

Outside the Fire Department right in front of the school, of course.

The irony!

Saturday, August 23, 2008

My son's high school English teacher, Ms. W. has been corresponding via email to parents. In her last email, she assured parents that we are not to be embarrassed of grammar mistakes when emailing with her. I arrogantly thought to myself, "Oh, brother. I'm a writer, and I can write simple emails without grammatical errors. Why is it so difficult for other parents?"

Then I ate crow. Big black feathers and all.

Ms. W. sent a reply to my email with the text I'd written still attached at the bottom. I felt the blood rise to my face as I examined the multitude of question marks strewn throughout my note to the teacher. Suddenly, I felt a need to explain to Ms. W. that I have absolutely no control over the misplaced punctuation- that my computer randomly inserts these questions marks, and it's not something I do to create literary intrigue and mystery.

A word to the wise: smugness never pays.


It's official. We now have two teenagers living, I mean consuming every bit of food in our cupboards.

Happy Birthday, Tater.

Thursday, August 21, 2008

A Mother Responds to Another School Shooting

In light of my post on "A Call to Anguish" yesterday, I have prayed fervently for the victim of the school shooting, the shooter, the students, the families, and the administrators this morning at Central High in Knoxville. Yes, my son attends now a Knox County High School, which added urgency to my petition. Other high schools were put on lock down. I'll find out this afternoon, if Peace shared in that lock down experience. Occasionally he calls me during lunch, and I hope he does today.

Sometime around when Buck and I decided to put our son in public school, a friend casually mentioned lock down as a possibility. I freaked that day saying, "What the heck is lock down? What are students asked to do? Why exactly does the school lock down? What do parents do in the case of lock down when I can imagine all they can think about doing is driving to snatch their children from the jaws of death?" Thankfully, our conversation gave me time to get answers to those questions before today.

As I listened to the news this morning, parents were rushing to Central High School to find their children, yet they were being turned away. The perimeter of the school had been sealed. A nearby church across the road opened a shelter to take families in as they waited, and the school officials gave updates there. Buck dropped off Peace around the time we heard the first report. The shooting occurred in the cafeteria, the place where students hung before school began. I wondered about the students who witnessed this callous act of murder. How will they feel about returning to the cafeteria or even school at all in days to come? A witness said something like this, "The shooter walked into the cafeteria right up to his victim, shot a boy in the chest, and walked out leaving the victim in a growing pool of blood with no remorse."

I thought about the hesitant hands, mops, buckets which have cleaned or will clean up that crimson crime scene. I considered the vulnerable and frail humanity of the principal, and the work of healing of a multitude he or she will have to undertake in the next while. I mulled over the fear of parents asking themselves, "Could it be my son?" I hurt for the parents who have lost the child they once held in their arms, diapered, and bathed. I speculated about the police persons on duty handling hostile, angry, and scared crowds. I pondered the teachers who have gone home this morning shaking their heads in wonder instead of carrying out lesson plans.

None of it makes sense. None. We live in such a sad and violent world. We are not guaranteed out next breath,and we should not take life for granted. It's as fragile as a candle easily snuffed out. I cry out to the One who holds all these things in His Hands for mercy and justice.

On another note. I do not regret for a second putting my son back in school this year, even after today's serious events. We prayerfully decided to home school him all these last years and prayerfully decided his star would shine brightest with inspiring everyday teachers who love the subjects they teach. We'll treasure Peace even more as we pick him up this afternoon, as we should.

Buck burns through another year




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Wednesday, August 20, 2008

My buddy Jake keeps handing me CD's at the gym to listen to in my car. Maybe he gives me them, because the words have moved him. Maybe Jake thinks I need to hear them.

I do.

The CD's are of old sermons he's found valuable. Sermons outside of church service are not exactly my cup of tea. Until now. The recordings are not high quality or even necessarily from this decade. However, the common theme running in all of them challenges me to trade in culture and my own good ideas and live a radical life of faith. Not because it's the right thing to do, but because Jesus is worthy.

Today's sermon titled "Call to Anguish" by David Wilkerson brought up concerns I have felt to be profoundly true but have not given voice. He states that the best prayer comes out of genuine anguish. He asks us not to look for the easy road, but the path of pain to find the heart of God. It's something I heard in my own morning prayers concerning myself today- that I have been seeking an easy road rather than Jesus as my greatest desire. I've been walking around practically sulking about life lately until I made this confession this day. Isn't stunning to have something like that reinterated in the very same day through a random sermon? Wilkerson says after a baptism of anguish, the voice of God and His Will becomes faster to discern. I have to agree that if I become passionate about a prayer cause, I get to God's justice and heart far more rapidly than items on an everyday prayer list.

You can download the sermon here.

Others Jake has recommended and I have totally dug are here and here.

Sunday, August 17, 2008

Got a surprise visit from a childhood friend, her children, and her lovely parents this morning. I spent a great deal of time with these folks at their home while we were in elementary school. They are still as kind and funny(!) as they were then. When my family decided to move as I entered fifth grade, I mourned the loss of M.B., her parents and siblings as neighbors more than anything else in that move.
M.B. and I attended fourth grade together, and I am sure I spent every waking moment possible with her. I wonder how many meals they fed me as a ten year old? Looking back, I learned much about families from them.
Our children played together like old friends too. Isn't that sweet?

Friday, August 15, 2008

I've read this list before, and thought better of posting it. Not today. Today it happens to make me laugh.

And I need a good laugh.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Here's the lastest news from the Vynes.

My oldest son, Peace, began public high school Monday after the last seven years of home school. I'm driving an insane amount to his particular high school, but I believe it will be worth it. Peace is loving it. He's already working harder and taking more initiative than I've ever seen. He organized his notebooks and began developing his own homework-and-things-to-keep-up-with list. He's gone above and beyond his homework assignments, a trend I hope will continue. He wrote a short but strong paper for English yesterday. He's reading his science book for fun! His art teacher has already asked him to teach some of the origami portion of class coming up soon. I can't believe art class began with paper masks. If my son's art star will shimmer and shine, it's in 3-D paper art. Peace knows a fair amount of students from scouts (especially leadership camp), church (including the mission trip to NYC this summer), soccer, and home school cooperatives. Apparently a number of other home schoolers have jumped ship for this same unique opportunity of a new academy oriented public high school option.

The funny thing is that I thought finally school would be free after years of shelling out the big bucks for home school books and materials. I've written over $200 in checks for his sundry public school fees. Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining, since we're out of county without paying tuition. I'm just surprised at the expense.

Wise One, Pooh Bear, and Tater began hitting the books a few weeks ago for home school. Man, have I seen some necessary backtracking as a result of not working with Pooh Bear this summer. You'd think she's never read most of her sight words from last year. I'm praying her skills will return quickly, so we can make appropriate strides this year. One item of good news is that Wise One's assignments have him stepping up and stretching himself as needed. I don't know what to say about Tater at this time. His brokenness gets in his way of school so often, God help him.

Personally, I quietly struggle with things I dare not blog. I want this particular public forum to bless and never tear down already difficult relationships. Just so you know, I am not alone in hard stuff. I do have some big fans including my husband,my mother,and dear friends who champion my cause and hold me up through the pain.

Saturday, August 09, 2008


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Wise One and I watched the opening ceremonies of the Olympics last night. In a word?

STUNNING.

Another?

CINEMATIC.

And one more?

MOVING.

Did you watch? What was your favorite part? The little girl flying with the kite may have been mine. However, the people who operated the printing blocks and the modern dancers painting with their bodies on the scroll amazed me. And what about those 15,000 magnificent costumes? No doubt about it. This opening ceremony beats all for me.

And, oh! Doesn't it totally rock that a 41 year old American woman is contending for gold in the 50 Free? We're practically peers (except that she's a real live Olympian and I'm a pretend farmer mom). I wonder is she has four children?

Wednesday, August 06, 2008






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Twenty years ago today, I married my man.

Tuesday, August 05, 2008

Ruthless

Once John Ortberg asked author Dallas Willard how to bring new spiritual life to himself. John reported that Dallas' reply was “shocking in its simplicity.” Dallas Willard spoke quite deliberately while looking John square in the eye, “You must ruthlessly eliminate hurry from your life, for hurry is the great enemy of spiritual life in our world today.”


Oh, God, that I could live this principle. Even just for today.

Monday, August 04, 2008

This morning I woke up so anxious. I began to worry about how in the world I will be able to do all the things this year has for me to complete. I'll be driving my oldest to and from high school quite a ways away from home. In between, I will also home school the other three. Then there is the matter of feeding my family and keeping our home. I also have dates I need to work out to be out of town to teach on my great love- children's spiritual formation.

What does it prosper me to wake up and worry? I went for a run and looked for peace. It came when I remembered a CD I needed to return of a sermon by a man from India who does missions in the 10/40 window. His words about Christian families in remote parts of China tearing the one Bible they have for their church body into pages and passing them around to one another reminded me of something essential. What is planning the school year for my children compared to this? My whole life is full of opportunity, choice and abundance.

I am amazed at how quickly I get down and discouraged, because a plan isn't working out just the way I thought it should. Boy, do I need to keep perspective on this privileged life I lead.