Thankful Monday Morning
The sun filters through the fog beckoning me to a new day. I stumble out of bed and head to the coffee pot. Cold coffee sloshes into my mug even though each day is worth a fresh pot of fragrant brew.
My girls are busy playing and my teenager emerges to see what is for breakfast. Stomach grumbling turns verbal.
Why do we have to do school today?
Our weekend was too busy.
I try to ignore the moaning, but it’s in my soul, too.
Where is our joy?
We pray, eat together, and lessons begin.
It’s Monday, so I pull out our Thankful Journals.
The day I decided to make these books was a day like the one I described above. The sun had been missing for days. We all felt grumpy. We needed to go to Good News Club in the afternoon, but no one wanted to go.
The internal battle in my own heart was won by gratitude.
I told my soul Good News Club is a wonderful opportunity. It is work. It can be hard, but it is worth the effort. It is an act of worship, an act of love.
As I considered my own internal raging, I thought of my kids. They have opportunities, too. They are blessed, but have they been counting their blessings?
I asked the kids to wait while I went to rummage in the shed.
When I came back, I carried a stack of composition books. Four were brand-new, but a pile of others where full of handwriting and pictures.
Those full books were the journals I made while they were babies. I read a few bits of the prayers I prayed for each of them. I told them that we were going to make something similar.
Scrapbook paper, magazines, and old calendars soon littered the floor as my children found images they wanted to glue onto their notebooks. I joined them in the cutting and gluing and soon we each had our own special place to record our blessings.
These are our Thankful Journals. We pull them out every Monday morning to chase away the grumbling and complaining.
My children grab their books and scatter. It only takes a few moments to record their thanksgiving, but those moments change the rest of our day.
Inspired by One Thousand Gifts. {Disclosure: This is an affiliate link. If you purchase items from Christianbook.com after clicking this link, I receive a few pennies.}
How the Basket Lady Organizes Homeschool
When the librarian called, he recognized my voice.
Oh, you’re the basket lady.
Should I be offended?
I used to take a backpack to the library and then transfer the books to their place next to the couch, but grabbing my old, wire basket saves a step. It does a great job keeping library books corralled, and it’s the perfect size for our check-out limit.
That library basket works so well, I don’t care that basket lady and bag lady sound so similar.
I have bigger things to battle, things like books and paper.
Organizing Books
Since we don’t have a separate room for our personal library, our living room has three large bookshelves in it. I make space for a few pieces of pottery, because I crave beauty as much as I like books.
Our books are loosely organized by category and size. Curriculum is on the shelf above our binders. Reference books are to the left of my desk. Favorite children’s books are on a separate shelf next to the couch.
Organizing Paper
Besides books, our homeschool fills up with paper. My girls each have an old-fashioned school desk with a bit of storage for their plethora of drawings.
When their desks are full, we sort through and keep their best and favorite works of art.
What we decide to keep goes into a three drawer organizer. I also slip in small treasures, cards, and keepsakes to add to their binders or scrapbooks later.
School papers used to pile in my plan book and languish there.
Then I found a $2 letter sorter to control that disaster. It’s perfect for holding file folders on my desk. Papers that need to be graded and papers that need to be filed are in separate sections. And my plan book fits right in the front.
Organizing Other Stuff
My desk drawers organize all of our office supplies:
- erasers
- pencils
- staplers
- hole punches
- flash cards
- stickers
- paper cutters
- notebook paper
- extra gadgets
- even the bills
I would like a new desk some day, but that might be as strenuous as packing the whole house.
Some of our puzzles, cards, and games are stored in a small dresser that I use as a sideboard in my kitchen.
I even cram things under the couch, but we won’t discuss that right now.
I’m a bit concerned about other nicknames that could arise if I divulge all the places I hide stuff.
What is your biggest organizational challenge?
When words are not enough…
photo credit: notsogoodphotography
Our friendship is built by words, simply words. Emails, and Twitter chats, and the thing that first connected us, our blogs.
Sharing about our families and daily lives.
Discussing our dreams.
Helping each other with homeschool.
And now the words are simply not enough. My dear friend, Dana, lost her little boy this weekend. An accident that has happened in my own home took the life of a precious little boy. I have never met him, but my heart is in pieces.
Dana and I have tried to get together. We’ve plotted and schemed about meeting at Yellowstone among other things. And now I just want to be there. To love on this family in a real tangible way. Not merely with the words, because I have none.
There is nothing to say to comfort.
There is nothing to type that will make the loss less.
I imagine what the Hanleys are facing, and yet I cannot imagine the true horror of the reality. I squeeze my kids tighter. I think of all the times they could have been hurt. I think of Christmas without one of them and tears stream down my face.
There are no words, but there are groanings that the Holy Spirit understands. May He interpret their love in my friend’s broken heart.
__________________________
If you would like to send a card, please put “Attn: Dana” on the envelope and mail it to:
Heart of the Matter Online
c/o Angela DeRossett
P.O. Box 13031
Offutt AFB, NE 68113-0031
If you would like to send a memorial gift, please send it to:
Somewhere Along the Way
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…
Middle School Mountain
Two weeks ago, we started lessons ready or not. The important things were ready. Curriculum had been chosen and ordered. My children were begging to get started. My heart was prayerful.
There are still piles of work from last year that have yet to be put away and some of the bookshelves are a mess, but this year I just couldn’t wait until everything was organized.
Other moms were counting on me.
7th grade history was the most difficult subject for me to choose this year. The mountains of high school cast a creeping shadow over my plans. It felt like I was taking those first faltering steps into homeschooling all over again.
I poked around looking for curriculum to help guide me. I leaned towards TruthQuest, but ended up coming back to TRISMS HistoryMakers due to it’s focus on research.
Here I found a couple friends ready to climb the foothills of middle school with me. We’re helping each other up by splitting up lesson planning.
I’m planning art. Dana is working on science. And Barb is putting together history.
I haven’t met these amazing ladies in person. We are scattered across three time zones, but we are joined by a love for our children, a common educational philosophy, and a devotion to our Savior.
The internet is simply our tool. My email is filling up with wonderful lessons and interesting websites to explore. We chat about our day and our children’s response to the lessons, and I find myself enjoying the accountability.
Projects are so easy for me to drop when we get busy, but now I know other families are taking the time to create hieroglyphics. The pressure to give my children the same opportunity compels me to purchase clay and slip it in my children’s workboxes (more on that later).
We’re already running a bit behind, but the point is, we are actually running. The climb is only made better with friends.
