Bawling During Homeschool
There were just a few more pages to turn when it happened. My voice froze and I felt the tears pushing. My son grinned knowingly, “Mom’s going to cry.”
For the rest of this article, please join me at The Curriculum Choice.
Introduction to Biblical Poetry
It’s midnight, and I just finished my homework. Yes, real homework. College homework! I’m taking an elementary literature class at Aletheia Christian College. My assignment this week was to start creating a notebook on the classic, Carry On, Mr. Bowditch. I plan to share it when it is done, but for now, I’d like to introduce you to Biblical poetry.
Poetry isn’t my favorite form of literature, but my research created such an engaging word picture inspiration erupted. I was able to take this one lesson and relate it to all my children, ages 4 to 12. Please pay special attention to the definition of composition in my outline to see if you get any ideas.
photo credit: whiteafrican
To pique student interest:
Imagine stumbling across a treasure box full of gold and diamonds. Would you simply sigh and walk away? What kinds of words would you use to describe your excitement?
Sometimes a narrative just isn’t enough. Sometimes our souls beg to express to the wonder of our experiences. We sing. We dance. We cry. We pray. We use words to try to expose what is going on inside our hearts. One way we do this is through the gift of poetry.
I. Introduction to Biblical Poetry
A. Poem “…A composition in which the verses consist of certain measures, whether in blank verse [has meter, but not rhyme] or in rhyme.”
B. Verse “In poetry, a line, consisting of a certain number of long and short syllables…”
C. Composition “In literature, the act of inventing or combining ideas, clothing them with words, arranging them in order…writing them.”
The Bible has some of the most beautiful poetry of all, but the poetry in the Bible is much different from our English poetry.
II. Characteristics of Hebrew Poetry
A. Hebrew poetry relies on rhythms and sounds. Hence, the use of alliteration, repeating of sounds.
B. Parallelism, logical rhythm
- Synonymous parallelism, the second line reinforces the first (Psalms 19:1)
- Antithetic parallelism, the second line shows a contract (Proverbs 13:16)
- Synthetic parallelism, the second line continues the thought (Proverbs 26:20)
C. Acrostic “A composition in verse, in which the first letter of the lines, taken in order, form the name of a person, kingdom, city, etc. which is the subject of the composition.” (Psalms 9, 199, and 37)
Did you see it? Clothing ideas with words. Who knew the dictionary could bring life to a lesson? Well, Noah Webster’s 1828 Dictionary can!
I took that one idea and talked to my children about our internal thoughts. Words clothe our ideas, but can they truly reveal our innermost parts? How can mere letters comprehend the personality and soul of a unique individual?
And think of all the ways we use words. Some work in warm boots and overalls, some lounge in jeans and a t-shirt, some dance in sparkling ballroom gowns, some sing in pajamas at dawn.
I’ll embrace that last gift, but it might not be before coffee…
The House God Gave Us: It’s Paid For!
While we were at camp, I asked a friend if $40,000 houses ever came on the market. He laughed. So did I, but someone told us they were praying for that very thing. I admit I sort of laughed at him, too. It was outside the realm of normal. I never expected such a thing to happen to us twice.
Instead of driving around with Dylan hunting for our next home, I could only scan the internet. My dream house faded as the desire to be with my husband expanded. Two weeks after Dylan left for Idaho, I begged him to come back, but he announced a new job.
I made it two more weeks before I lost it again. By that time, Dylan had put in an offer on a foreclosure. A bidding war ensued, so we thought we were out of the running. Before my plea was finished, Dylan announced our winning bid of $39,900!
Stunned, I tried to mesh my emotions into what was about to be reality. How could we fit 5 people into 888 sq. ft.? I convinced myself space was overrated anyway. I just wanted to be with my love.
A few days later, the ring of the telephone ripped apart my new revised plans.
We can’t get a loan, because I’m employed through a temporary agency.
No way around it. No alternatives. We decided to wait and see if one of the people tramping through our finally finished Texas house would buy it. I was just getting ready to lower the price, when an offer came. A full price offer! If the deal went through, we would have enough to pay CASH for our ugly, tiny foreclosure.
Closing dates overlapped by one week, so we asked for an extension. I held my breath until I saw Dylan at the airport. Then nothing else mattered. Tears rattled my composure as I collapsed in his arms. Little ones crowded around our legs giggling hysterically.
It was all an act of faith. We didn’t know until hours before closing whether the deal would go through. We finished packing the moving truck in the rain. The phone was shut off, power was next, and still we waited. The buyer came for the final walk through. She almost skipped it, because of her frustration.
Our suitcases were the only thing left in the empty, echoing house. Dear friends came to help, but there wasn’t much left to do except try to avoid the depressing thought of how far away Idaho was from Texas.
When we pulled out, I noticed mud smeared on the front of the house. The kids must have put it there while playing. I wanted to jump out and clean it off, but there wasn’t time.
We were on our way to Idaho, a caravan of Deckards who were already home because we were together.
Next in this series: How does a family of 5 fit in here?
The House We Hoped For
We began the hunt as winter came to close. Every weekend our family of four piled in our auction-find Hyundai and cruised neighborhoods. Our eyes roved for red arrows pointing to abandoned houses. Pulling up driveways and surveying the possibilities became a routine that lasted for months.
Reality hit hard. The loan we were approved for was more than we could afford. As the loan officer plugged information into her computer, she laughed and said,
Oh, I can get you into a lot of trouble. Remember you are the ones who have to make the payments.
Yes, we knew that well. When Dylan and I married, we decided to base all of our financial decisions on Dylan’s income alone. We wanted to keep our options open, so our plans reflected the desire for me to stay home.
There wasn’t much in our price range. Even the $90,000 houses needed a lot of work, and for that payment the space needed to be move in ready. If we did find something that would work, it was under contract. So we gathered our hope and kept driving.
A For Sale by Owner sign compelled us to stop in front of an ugly house on a corner lot. It was a drab brick red with a lattice-wrapped porch hanging off the front. A ceiling fan with large globe lights was the focal point. I mentally noted that could be easily replaced with something less obtrusive. Because the place was obviously empty, we peeked in the front window. The entry was a long narrow room with doorways on both sides. The walls were cheap wood paneling. The floor was mostly covered with stained, white vinyl squares. Very drab, very uninviting.
Meanwhile, our son gazed at a hastily-painted, yellow plywood tree house in the backyard. He wanted to live here. He prayed that we would move to this house. I was not even interested. Then I found out the price: $65,000.
Our first tour was hard to stomach. The kitchen floor was three layers of dirty ripped linoleum. Cupboards were white with blue shreds of latex paint trying to cling to the oil underneath. The garage was full of junk, and there was nothing to heat or cool the house except an assortment of ceiling fans.
As we listened to the owner tell us about the toilet backing up when it rained, the true issues surfaced. I concluded he had a buyer at one time, but the house wouldn’t pass inspection. Then I heard,
If you take it as is, I’ll sell it to you for $40,000.
Dylan said he’d be in touch, and we walked quietly to the car.
As soon as the door shut, I blurted out,
We need to jump on this!
I was scared. We knew nothing about fixing houses. I could clean and paint, but this house needed more than a brush of color. It needed a furnace to keep our kids warm in the winter and an air conditioner for the blazing Texas summers. The septic had issues. Did that mean the plumbing was suspect, too? What about the cracks in the mortar? And the bathroom where the toilet had fallen through the floor? Was that really fixed?
A few friends with rental property assured us it was fine. Other friends wondered what we were getting ourselves into. I later heard,
When you said it would be nice I believed you, but I sure couldn’t see it.
And it was nice, eventually. That is why I took so many pictures. I knew I would need to be reminded that the sore muscles, sheer frustration, and inconvenience was worth it. Dylan had sent me pictures of our new house in Idaho…(to be continued)
My Homeschool To Do List
Melancholy settled in as the hours passed. My to do list unmarked except for what I’d deemed most important: prayer, Bible reading, school lessons, and home-cooked meals. Those things took all day. Literally, all day. What about the trail of obligations and ideas for things I wanted to pursue?
My brain tried to focus in the quiet of the night, but darkness and sleep shut out the whispers of failure. That was enough for one day.
Bug, Age 12, 2010
I am task-oriented by nature, so my spirit lifts when I can stand back and look at accomplishments. The dullness comes from my weary eyes. They glance around the room and get caught on the undone and the messes. Yes, meals are consumed, but the smiles and laughter linger. Lessons are, hopefully, stored in the hearts of my children. My little prayer book is stashed away to collect even more memories later.
This is my life now. This is what is important.
The lists in my notebook grow each day, but the time I have with these children is short. Oh, some days feel like they last forever. The truth is they don’t.
Bug, Age 5, with Baby Sunshine, 2003
Now is the time to make messes, so I brought the craft table in off the porch.
Now is the time to read great books, so I let my son devour a biography during our normal math time.
Now is the time to make a home, so I close my eyes to the missing boards around the windows and the torn up bathroom. Those things will be fixed in time, but I don’t want to miss the eternal for a nagging piece of paper. The truly important things I do in a day are hard to check off as done.
