Wordless Wednesday- Mesmerized

Sunshine tugged me through exhibits at the Kimbell Art Museum until she was arrested. Mesmerized by the largest painting she’s ever seen.

The oil paint glowed only to reflect the delight in her eyes.

Wordless Wednesday

Where Is Home?

I don’t want to think and process right now. There are too many unknowns. Papers on the table carry the weight of hope, but a mere cough can blow them away. Dare I breathe? Dare I plan?

Determination wanes during the arduous separation. Twice I pleaded with my beloved to come back. Twice my cries were overshadowed by good news. This time it was Dylan who needed hope. As my words sank in, he confessed,

I was praying this morning about coming back. We need to be together…

Our steps have faltered. We’ve wondered if the time is right. Doubts try to smear our joy with shadows. But every time we try to turn back our steps are confirmed. Life in Idaho won’t be easy, but neither is waiting.

Instead of pondering my lack of patience, I focus on the tasks of moving. I go through boxes of Christmas decorations months too soon. Piles of cast-offs grow. Paintings are removed from the walls.

The open space reminds me of the flurry of cleaning and painting it took to get this place move-in ready. As I collapsed on the lawn, I wondered if the vultures overhead were circling for me.

A year later paint rollers came out again. We needed to switch bedrooms. A new little girl was joining our family, so Brother moved to the smaller room he carpets with Lego daily.

This house taught me so much. About repair, maintenance, and contentment. I no longer lust for the perfect house. The frustration of living in a fixer-upper has more rewards than just sweat equity.

I now know what home truly is. I enjoy the beauty we’ve brought to this shelter, but it’s not our home. Home is our family, not a house, not a city, not a state.

Right now our home is lacking the strong arms of Daddy. My heart aches, and I can only imagine the agony for other families separated even longer…

After praying with my son last night, he stated,

This isn’t our house, we just manage it for God.

That’s right. This house is a gift. It is a trust. We’ve cared for it well.

May the new management be embraced with peace and strength. I pray they discover home.

Boxes of Books Scare Homeschool Mother

I wrote this post for Our Lifestyle of Learning‘s newsletter. If you haven’t already created an account on this network, check it out. There are lots of giveaways this month and encouraging words always.

Boxes of books tower in my garage. Lesson planning resources are tucked away to wait for moving day, but that doesn’t stop me from thinking about the school year when I should be sleeping.

As I try to quiet my thoughts, the mental checklist reveals a gaping hole in our planned subjects, science. How did I forget something so important?

Then I remember all that is tucked in those banker’s boxes: Math, English, geography, art, history, Spanish, literature, penmanship, spelling, and yes, even some science.

So many wonderful books. So many tentative plans.

But there are not enough hours in the day to do it all. If I scheduled each day minute by minute and crammed it into my children’s brains, would it even stay?

I take a deep breath. The books are not my master. The curriculum doesn’t have to be completed as directed. I examine the motives of my heart. Why are we homeschooling? Why did I choose this curriculum? Why are we reading this now? Sometimes it is serendipity, but more often than not it is a choice made by love.

Love requires discipline. Love asks for sacrifice. Love is hard work sometimes. But it is also the foundation of life, of everything creative, of joys unimaginable. And when I remember that, the boxes of books and gaping holes cease to threaten.

Love is Art

My husband thought we only had one small, pantry type closet full of art and craft supplies. I had him fooled. There were stashes in the garage, in my closet, and even in the bottom drawer of his dresser.

I try to toss some of it, but possibilities grab my thoughts and won’t let go. I think of all that I could create for my family. And I think of all that we can create together.

My friend Julie sent me this quote months ago, but I find it echoing in my heart during our slow good-bye to our home.

I tell you, the more I think, the more I feel that there is nothing more truly artistic than to love people. -Vincent van Gogh

Even if boxes of possibilities aren’t lugged to Idaho, my art will continue.