Category Archives: Blogging

My Reoccurring Question


Posted by Renae

This place became silent. Not really by choice, but by neglect. My quiet time to tap out thoughts on a keyboard is minimal now.

Life crowds out the non-essentials, and I’ve questioned my need for blogging. It is not essential, but writing does help me process the thoughts crashing around in my heart.

photo credit: www.CourtneyCarmody.com

I miss beating out words to discover truth amid the toil. I don’t have to write, but I do want to live fully awake. Writing just might enhance that.

I come back to this place and find a few thoughts recorded here and there. The posts in draft are just a few glimpses of my life over the past two years.

So much has changed.

So many of my own fears have been faced.

Much of what I’ve written, I don’t know how to share. Some of it is so entwined in the stories of others that I simply don’t know how to share it. Some of it is painful. Many of the ideas are still in the process.

But I still wonder if I should write again for this little place?

Jotting notes to capture the moments of wonder that come with family life. Sharing what I’m thinking through.

Writing to separate the cosmos from the chaos. Finding peace amid trials.

Giving hope to carry on…

 


Somewhere Along the Way


Posted by Renae

Why do I feel more vulnerable writing among the people who shared my story from the beginning before blogging even existed?

How is it that sharing my passion with strangers-who-became-friends was easier than exposing my soul living here? Here where so many have invested in me. Here where I bump into those long-loved and begin to love anew.

There are so many individual stories to catch up on, but there is a knowing. Maybe that knowing is what I fear.

photo credit: Robb North

Dylan and I packed our bus and went to Texas to mission training school, but it wasn’t our doing. Generosity was our income and faith was our food.

The people who live here paid our way. Names noted one by one. Faces of saints who believed in us. Families who prayed and cared and gave with an open hand.

There is a weight to those gifts.

I was going to the other side of the world, not Idaho. Sent out more than once, yet called back with a dim idea that I can make a difference. But who am I?

Voices say I am a prayer warrior, a good friend, a giver of grace…The words swirl around my heart. Then they quietly slip to the floor.

I know who I really am.

I am fickle, lazy, prideful. I talk too much and listen too little. My patience fails and my selfishness flares. I am a sinner.

Don’t expect much from me, but expect everything from the Savior.

Somewhere along the way, He taught me the risk of love was worth it.

Somewhere along the way, He taught me where I end and someone else begins.

Somewhere along the way, He humbled me by pulling me out of my myopia.

I am crushed by His mercy.

Vulnerability is having the ability to be wounded. Yes, that is what I still fear. Being misunderstood, being screamed at again, being stripped of even more of my pride. Hurting my family. Losing my friends. But does fear help? No, it hinders.

Love reaches out in spite of fear.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. (I Corinthians 13: 4-6)

Love recognizes that we are all somewhere along the way…


The Homeschool Swap- The Real Gift


Posted by Renae

My opportunity was on the way!

The opportunity for me to step outside of my introverted ways. The opportunity to open my newly finished and almost empty home. The opportunity to have company while my husband was so far away. 

Some would say it was foolish to let a practical stranger come stay at my house, but that’s the thing. Heather didn’t feel like a stranger. Even though we met only briefly at a homeschool convention, I knew her in a way I don’t know my own neighbors. I knew her through blogging.

photo by: Sprittibee

When I sent my first post into the cloud of search engines, I never imagined friendships would form. Friendships created not on externals, but on ideas shaped with words.

Even though writing doesn’t peel away our flesh, souls are revealed over time. And time is on Heather’s side. She has been blogging at Sprittibee for FIVE years.

photo credit: Sprittibee

I was so blessed to have Heather’s beautiful family in my home. They arrived late and had to leave early, but our time together was refreshing. Our children became instant friends.

I got to hold the baby while the boys chatted about Star Wars Lego faster than my brain could process the words. The girls enjoyed drawing pictures together.

The gifts Heather sent me for The Homeschool Swap are still making me smile. Many of the presents brighten my new kitchen: a cute towel, a stainless steel bowl (the perfect size for blogging munchies), a timer (which I really needed), and a cool magnetic spice container.

The artsy, handmade cards for each of my children were carted off immediately. Sweet Pea claimed the fairy wand, and Bug built the Lego set in mere seconds. Sunshine decided the CD was for her. She was not disappointed. Heather filled it up with pictures of the visit.

These last photos of our time in Texas brought tears to my eyes. She captured not only my children, but little glimpses of my house with new eyes.

photo credit: Sprittibee

The package was only a representation of the real gift: her friendship.

Thank you so much, Heather!

You can read Heather’s side of the story here.


Silencing the Background Noise or Why I Blog


Posted by Renae

While kids and weary husband sleep, I sit at the table and peck through chapter by chapter. I copy the author’s words to help me remember, to help me teach.

I strain for the discipline to just finish the last two chapters, but thoughts buzz. Ideas repeated here and there during the day hum for the moment they can be completed. When is that moment? It’s now, when the silence of the night gives ear to their music.

I decipher the purposeful notes and realize daily multi-tasking dulls my focus. My children too easily become part of the background noise. Walls press in, so I must press out. I need new perspectives.

Winter Birds

Today three of us lingered at the window. Flocks of birds visited our feeder. We watched the juncos bounce around nibbling spilled seeds. Their black suit coats contrasted with the white snow. Finches of gold and purple brightened the dead lilac bush.

The fourth person here, my son, glanced out, flipped through books, and started asking:

Can we make a suet feeder? Can I make a bird bath? What about a brush cover?

My active, imaginative son always wants to do. I want to bundle up and hibernate until spring. Instead, I make the effort to listen and gather supplies.

Then I pause, before sleep, to capture a moment to help me remember, to help me teach.

What helps you be a better mother and teacher? What do you do to stay focused?


Inexcusable


Posted by Renae

I should know better by now. The hint of an upcoming article haunts me. Series take me so long to complete, they can’t be called sequential at all. A better explanation is that eventually my ideas find a way of escape.

My intentions are the best. In fact, they are so good they get sketched out again and again like a draftsman crafting a castle. I know it’s hard to believe, but I am a bit obsessive.

For instance, my homework assignment for the past three weeks has been to compile a notebook on Carry On, Mr. Bowditch. I’m supposed to take notes on the five elements of literature in each chapter: setting, characterization, plot, style, and theme. Simple enough. Unless you’re me.

I took six pages of notes on one chapter! This book is for upper elementary grades. Would my twelve-year-old son write that many notes on one chapter? No way!

Needless to say, I’ve realized the error of my ways. Homework for this week was much easier and less time consuming. See, I can relax. Really, I can.

When our computer dubbed, somewhat affectionately, Frankenmachine died, I took deep breaths to calm my heart rate. And as soon the twitching stops, I will be fine.

Our antique laptop dubbed, somewhat affectionately, What is that! is just what I need to slow me down. Because it would be inexcusable if I had the chance to overwhelm you with all my ideas at once.