Faith

Family Home Evening Pie Chart.

It became readily apparent in recent months that our approach to teaching our children the gospel of Jesus Christ in our homes was going over the head of our three-year-old. Our daily scripture study involved reading a chapter from the Book of Mormon each night. Occasionally, Jack would ask to “read” with us, but mostly he preferred jumping on the couch or throwing balls in our faces.

I consoled myself with the fact that four of our five children were “getting it” to some extent and left it at that.

Family Home Evening – our weekly gospel study session – was a different story. When our other kids were little, we made sure lessons were age-appropriate. We used lots of pictures, object lessons, simple stories and music to approach teaching important truths and principles.

As the kids have gotten older, the topics of Family Home Evening and the methodology used to discuss them graduated to a more in-depth level. This past year, we decided to watch and discuss a talk from the most recent general conference. Which worked great for the older kids. Jack, not so much.

I determined that a brief lesson designed just for Jack needed to be incorporated into our Family Home Evening routine. We started last week. Eve taught an adorable lesson on Noah and the ark, complete with pictures and music.

From here on out, we will take turns preparing a short lesson for Jack as well as discuss a general conference talk.

Of course, that meant revamping our tried and true FHE pie chart. Here’s how it looks now:

If this is something you could use, feel free to use this printable version.

Jackson family reunion 2018.

After arriving home to a home that had a piece of plywood instead of a back door (and so, SO many other things that make me tired just thinking about them) I was in no shape to pull things together for a family reunion.  At our house.

That’s right.  All 23 members of my extended family were coming to Boise for our bi-annual Jackson family reunion.

I had invited them all up here in anticipation of our addition being complete, but when it was not progressing as expected, we booked a few hotel rooms up the street to hedge our bets.  But I still thought we would at least have FLOORS by the time we pulled this thing off!

Lucky for us, Boise is a fantastic outdoor destination (which was kind of the point of hosting the reunion here during the summer) so we made plans to be out of the house as much as possible.

And, by golly, it worked!

Thankfully, we had prepped the meals ahead of time for easy cooking and our kitchen was in working order so that was no problem.  We floated the Boise River, went to the Shakespeare Festival, had summer fun at a local ski resort, went swimming at our neighborhood pool, played games, and spent a day at the “beach”.

There was fun for all ages and it was delightful to spend time together.  Memories to last a lifetime.

Here are the pictures to prove it.

One activity that was especially fun for me to plan (and for everyone else to carry out) was our version of Relative Race.  We all divided into teams (by family, generally-speaking) and raced around town to find various sites of interest.  At each site, the teams were expected to perform a “challenge” related to our family history/culture.

For instance, at one station entitled “Guess Who?”, one player expected to ask questions (with yes or no answers) to determine which of our ancestors the other players had selected.  Like the board game “Guess Who?”.

At another station, they were given a four-generation fan chart (blank) and had to match names of our family members to the correct place on the chart.

For the third one, we obtained baby pictures of all the people in our family and they had to determine who was who.

And at the last station, each child(under 18) was asked why their parents gave them their name and/or what their name means.  (I, of course, contacted parents ahead of time for this one).

All in all, our family got to see a bit more of Boise, discover a bit more about our ancestors and learn more about ourselves and each other in the process.  Fun all around!

Fayette and Priesthood Restoration Site.

We awoke early on Sunday to drive to Fayette, New York, where the first meeting of the church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was held.  We had been there the day before, to tour the Peter Whitmer Log Cabin, but thought it would be appropos to spend our Sunday worship at this singular site.

The church meetinghouse there was constructed in 1980 and used for the Sunday morning session of General Conference on April 6 that year.  President Spencer W. Kimball gave an address to commemorate the 150th anniversary of the restoration of the church of Jesus Christ.  Attending sacrament meeting there was a fantastic way to kick off our Sabbath day.

We then traveled southeast through the Finger Lakes region of New York, deciding then and there that a vacation home on one of the lakes would be a splendid idea.  Not unlike the giant RV, or beach house on the Oregon Coast, or the jet boat we’ve dreamed of on previous vacations.  Seriously beautiful scenery.  So beautiful that we simply soaked it in and have no pictures to prove it.

Our travels landed us in Susquehanna County, Pennsylvania.  In recent years, the church transformed this area from the simple monument that once stood marking the spot of the restoration of the Priesthood, to a more souped up version.  A visitor’s center, the Hale home, the smaller Hale home that the Smiths lived in for a time, and an area of maintained land where the events surrounding the priesthood restoration were thought to have taken place (based on historical accounts).

What I would like to remember about Harmony Pennsylvania:

  1.  Joseph met Emma (Hale) there while working for a man named Josiah Stowell.  Stowell was digging for Spanish silver in the area and hired Joseph and his father for a handsome price.  Within a month, Joseph determined that no silver was to be found and informed Josiah of the fact.  Despite needing the salary to support their family, Joseph had the integrity to call it quits when he knew nothing was to be found.  He didn’t find silver, but he did meet his future wife while they lodged with her family in Harmony.

2.  The Hale home was fancy by 19th century standards.  Emma grew up in privileged circumstances and enjoyed the benefits of formal education.  This qualified her to become Joseph’s first scribe as he translated the Book of Mormon.  It also demonstrates the amount of faith Emma had to trade her cushy circumstances and Methodist faith to convert to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and marry its founder, an uneducated farm boy whom her father detested.  Though her father opposed their union, he later invited them to live in his home, then the home adjacent to their property, where they began work translating the Book of Mormon.  Emma was also part breadwinner, Joseph being occupied with the work of the Restoration.  She was a remarkable woman of faith and grit.

3.  Despite artwork depicting a veil separating Joseph and the gold plates from his scribe (so as to keep the plates from the view of others), there is no indication that this ever happened.  In fact, more of the records indicate that the plates were kept hidden under Emma’s tablecloth, and that Joseph did not even view them directly while translating.  Based on what we know, he would use what was called a seer stone, which would somehow highlight a phrase, which he would utter to the scribe.  The scribe would then record the words and read them back to Joseph.  If what was uttered did not match the words indicated by the seer stone, they would halt until corrections were made.  Some are weirded out by the whole idea of a seer stone, but I think that’s silly.  Especially if one purports to be a religious person.  Biblical accounts demonstrate the use of objects for religious purposes on several occasions (Moses’ brass serpent, the Urim and Thummim, etc.)  Others are skeptical that Joseph could translate without even looking directly at the plates.  But then, my husband Tim can read entire books via Audible on his phone without even looking at or touching the screen.  We call it Bluetooth.  We are so quick to pooh-pooh ideas that are unfathomable to us, due to our limited understanding of technology or the cosmos.  If God created the universe, certainly he can figure out a way for an uneducated farm boy to translate an ancient record into English without looking at it.  Seriously.

4.  The restoration of the Aaronic Priesthood through John the Baptist and the Melchizedek Priesthood through Peter, James and John here in Harmony, Pennsylvania are of particular significance to me because they gave men the authority to do God’s work on the earth.  It made baptism and receiving the Gift of the Holy Ghost available to people in this day and age.  It is not enough to just say one believes in God and then go about your merry way doing what you’ve always done.  God has a plan for us, and the fulfillment of that plan is predicated on our acceptance (and execution) of His requirements.  Receiving and keeping priesthood ordinances/covenants is an act of faith on our part, one that binds us to Him and will eventually lead us safely back to His presence.

By the time we took the path down to the river, we were all crazy hot, not to mention tired and hungry.  Anna even toyed with the idea of staying in the car, so we left it running so she wouldn’t melt in the heat and humidity.  She snuck out of the car, unbeknownst to Tim, followed by Eve, who was about to shut the door, when I stopped her abruptly, seeing that Anna had exited the vehicle.  Tim, out of habit, had locked the doors, which would not have been much of a problem if Anna had stayed, but since she didn’t, we were THIS close to locking our only set of keys in the car while it was running.  We were all grateful that we avoided that potential disaster.  Ah!  On to Albany for the night!

Palmyra

Day One.

After a brief stop in Niagara Falls, we marched further east to the heart of the restored church of Jesus Christ in Palmyra, New York.  We popped into the Hill Cumorah Visitor’s Center, where we were directed to walk up to the top of the hill before 1:00 pm, when rehearsal for the annual pageant would begin.

So we did.  We snagged a picture, then chatted it up with one of the Sister missionaries, who informed us that you can save seats for the pageant in the side sections of the audience.

So we grabbed our “Maid of the Mist” ponchos, slapped them on seven seats and piled into the car to visit the Sacred Grove.  After arriving at the parking lot, we saw that Grandma and Grandpa were just beginning a tour of the Smith Family Farm, so we joined their tour group.

A few things I want to remember about our experience there:

  1.  The Lord’s hand is in the details.  That the Smith family ended up purchasing property in the Finger Lakes region of New York was no accident.  Their farm was mere miles away from the buried ancient record that would become the Book of Mormon.  The circumstances that surrounded their coming here was nothing short of miraculous, timed perfectly to pave the way for the restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
  2. The homes they lived in were extremely simple.  In their first home, a small log cabin, Joseph read the passage of scripture that prompted him to pray to God.  (James 1:5).  After his miraculous vision in the grove of trees, he received visits in the log cabin from angel Moroni, who instructed him on where to find the gold plates.  What hallowed ground it is. In their second home, Joseph hid the gold plates from his enemies, as well as in the cooper’s shed, the plates were hidden in various places and undiscovered by those who would steal them, despite occasionally being in plain sight.  They were preserved at a great cost, and against all odds.
  3. The Sacred Grove was as beautiful as expected. There is a reverence to that place like no other.  The church took care to provide many paths and dozens of benches so people could spend time in quiet reflection of the events that took place there.  I spent most of my time following Jack around.  He delighted in exploring the area – we might have spent 2 hours there.
  4. We returned to our saved seats at the pageant, after a long nap and dinner.  Our kids were riveted.  The show even held Jack’s interest for the first half, thanks to special effects and awesome music.  It was a great production containing some of the best stories in the Book of Mormon and how we came to acquire them.

Day Two:

We took a drive down to Fayette, NY, where the first church meeting of the restored church of Jesus Christ took place.  We watched a video in the Visitor’s Center that depicted the events that occurred there.  A few things I want to remember:

  1.  David Whitmer’s parents, though humble and faithful people, were not inclined to invite Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery into their home during the growing season.  There was too much work to be done.  While plowing the fields to prepare for planting, David offered a prayer that if this be the work of God, please let the farm work be accomplished.  He retired that night, after a hard day of plowing, wondering how on earth it would be.  The next morning, he and his father discovered a miracle-all the fields had been plowed overnight.  Needless to say, they invited Joseph and Oliver to come to their home to work on the translation of the Book of Mormon.
  2. David Whitmer said he knew Joseph was a prophet because he knew exactly where and when to meet him, because he knew David’s exact route and itinerary despite not having discussed it before.
  3. Fayette was also the location of the Three Witnesses to the Book of Mormon’s experience viewing the gold plates.  It was a lonely burden for Joseph to bear, being the only person authorized to see the plates for a time.  It created doubt in some, and possibly strained relationships in others.  Even Emma noticed the lifted weight that occurred when others were able to bear witness of the existence of the plates.
  4. And finally, the first official meeting of the church occurred in Peter Whitmer’s cabin in Fayette, NY.  They crammed 55 people into the log cabin, six of them baptized members of the church.  From its humble beginnings in New York on April 6, 1830, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints’ numbers have swelled to over 16 million throughout the world.

We stopped in on the Book of Mormon publication site (Egbert B. Grandin building).  A few things I want to remember about our tour here:

  1.  The blurb in the newspaper to advertise the sale of copies of the Book of Mormon comes directly from its title page, written by none other than Moroni.  Who knew that Moroni’s words would be used to market the book 1400 years after he penned them?
  2. It took 65 days to translate the Book of Mormon, 7 months to print the pages, and 17 months to bind them into books.
  3. The order of 5000 copies of ANY book was unusual, but even more so in an obscure town in Western New York.  2-3 months before Joseph requested the printing of the book, Egbert Grandin had ordered the latest and greatest printing press, capable of printing 16 pages at a time(compared to his more-than-adequate press that could print 8 at a time).  People scoffed at the lack of necessity for such a machine in a small town.  Sure enough, though, the Lord’s promises were fulfilled in half the time because of Grandin’s seemingly imprudent purchase.
  4. The typical profit margin for books in this period was about 12%.  The profit margin for the Book of Mormon was closer to 30%.  E.B. Grandin at first declined Joseph’s request to print it, then reconsidered but certainly seemed to require a good chunk of the profits in doing so.

After a break to do laundry and take a nap (some of us), we went back to take a stab at the Sacred Grove.  Since it was just before the Hill Cumorah pageant that night, the grove had mostly cleared out and we were able to have a bit more solitude than the first time around.

Once again, we traveled at Jack’s pace(and wherever he led us).  Tim and I were able to share a brief testimony of the feelings we had there.

It’s interesting to me that the Sacred Grove is no more or less beautiful than other places we’ve visited.  We’ve been all across the West to various National Parks and other remote and stunning locations.  America the Beautiful is replete with gorgeous views.  But the feeling in the Sacred Grove is unmistakable.  It is a hallowed place where God the Father and Jesus Christ appeared to a young boy in response to his humble prayer.  It was an event that changed the course of history.  Although I don’t have to go there to know that, it was a truly special experience to have shared with my family.

 

Kirtland 2018

Day One:

We kicked off our day in the car and gave our kids a brief explanation of the significance of Kirtland in church history.  Hopefully it whetted their appetites for what was to come.  We made good time, arriving after only 5 hours on the road.

On the recommendation of the senior missionaries who greeted us at the visitor’s Center, we watched the introductory video on Kirtland and hiked up the hill to catch one of the last tours of the temple for the day.

I have nothing to compare it to, but I truly appreciated the reverence with which the tour guide approached the tour.  His knowledge was diverse, and, knowing that the vast majority of summer visitors to Kirtland are members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, he taught us in a unifying way about the history our churches share there.

A few tidbits I want to remember:

  1.  They kept reminding us to use the “outer” railing while ascending (and descending) the stairs, because the inner railing was original to the 1836 construction of the temple (and likely unable to support the weight of 21st century Americans-haha).
  2. The saints used their ground up china pieces to mix in with the cement/stucco exterior so that the outside literally glittered in the sunlight.
  3. It was at a great cost that the Saints built this structure.  When Joseph Smith originally announced that the Lord wanted them to build a house unto the Lord, they envisioned a log cabin.  Joseph had seen in a vision what the temple was to look like, and he reminded the saints that they were not to build a house of man but a house of God.  Though the temple is beautiful, it is fairly  simple by today’s standards.  But to them, it must have seemed the most elegant of structures.  It’s beauty must have been even more awe-inspiring, knowing the sacrifice it had been to build it, in their poverty.
  4. Today, the Commmunity of Christ(who own the temple) ring the bell in the bell tower 50 times each Sunday morning.  When asked why 50 times, our guide said they weren’t sure, other than it is a tradition that has held up over the years. He then added that there is reason to believe that it is tied to the word Pentecost, which means fifty, because the dedication of the Kirtland Temple was recorded as a day of Pentacost much like in the book of Acts where there were heavenly visitations and people speaking in tongues.  That sounds about right to me.
  5. The stands in the Kirtland Temple have seats for the various offices of the priesthood-Aaronic (deacon, teacher, priest, bishop) and Melchizedek(elder, high priest/high council-where Joseph Smith would have sat because he was not only the prophet of the church but the stake president in a Kirtland).
  6. The Community of Christ still uses the temple for worship services.  The night before we visited, they held a hymn service in honor of Emma Smith (it was her birthdate), who compiled the first hymn book of the church.
  7. The original plaster of the exterior of the temple was bluish but began fading fast.  There were also numerous cracks, which gave it a dilapidated look very quickly.  Because they could not repair the cracks as quickly as the paint was fading, they finally restored the entire exterior, this time painting it in white.  The windows contain several of the original panels of glass-you can tell which ones they are because they have a bluish tint to them.
  8. They packed this building to the gills on dedication day. Each row contained 12-15 adults (we sat 7-8 comfortably during our tour) and they stayed like that for 7 1/2 hours!
  9. We sang The Spirit of God in the house of worship (bottom floor of the temple) together at the close of our tour.  It was a touching conclusion to the instruction we had just received.  It served as a reminder to me of the history we share with the current owners of the temple.  It gave me a glimpse of the gratitude with which this building was dedicated almost 200 years ago.  And, it testified to me of the glorious event it was-that all the keys of the priesthood are available to us once again and that our path back to our Heavenly home is clearly marked and is found in keeping the covenants we make in the temple.

It was wonderful to spend our time there together as a family AND, as a bonus, Jack was only a minor distraction.

After the temple tour, we took a few pictures, then tried to get started on a tour of Historic Kirtland, only to find that Jack had expired and it would have to wait for the next day.  We barely made it through the Isaac Morley Farm tour before heading out to grab a late dinner and check in to our hotel.

Day Two:

We intended to tour Historic Kirtland and then swing by the Johnson Farm on our way out of town.  As luck would have it, the Newell K Whitney store was in use that morning.  The mission has a tradition of wishing their departing missionaries goodbye by having a special meeting in the Whitney store.  An amazing experience for them, but during peak season in Kirtland, a major inconvenience for visitors hoping to tour it.

We were relegated to driving the 45 minutes to the Johnson farm in Hiram, Ohio.  It was on our list, and an incredibly significant place, we had just hoped to save it for last, simply because of the lack of proximity to other Kirtland sites.

It turned out to be a blessing.  Jack fell asleep while we were en route to the farm and slept all the way through our tour, finally waking up 2 hours later just before we arrived back in Kirtland.  As one can imagine, a well-rested two-year-old makes a far better tour companion than an exhausted one.  His improved behavior allowed us to have a reverent, sacred experience in the Whitney store.

A few things I want to remember about this day:

  1.  While touring the ashery, we learned that the Saints made potash using an arduous process and sold it for quite a price. (Back then it was used in all sorts of goods, including china).  The revenue from the ashery helped fund the construction of the Kirtland Temple.  Soon after the completion of the temple, it was discovered that potash occurs naturally in the environment and can be mined.  Naturally, this negated the purpose of the ashery and drove prices way down.  The timing of the discovery of potash was a blessing to the Kirtland saints, otherwise they would never have had the means to build the temple.
  2. Both the Johnson and Whitney families were well-to-do.  Both families housed the prophet Joseph at one point or another(as well as other people moving to Kirtland).  Both families have of their abundance to further the work of the Lord.  They seemed to have a solid understanding that wealth is a blessing from God that is intended to bless others.  They are excellent examples of how we should regard our material possessions.
  3. The tarring and feathering of Joseph Smith at the John Johnson farm was a well-orchestrated event.  The mobsters took the pains to poison the dog earlier in the day so that it would not signal warning to the inhabitants of the home.  They disabled the Johnsons guns so that they would not fire during the attack.  “Someone” left the door unlocked to provide easy entry in the middle of the night.  Despite the horror of this experience, and the subsequent loss of one of Joseph and Emma’s twins, the work of God was undeterred and Joseph spoke in church the following day.
  4. The School of the Prophets (in the Newel K Whitney store) was similar to a temple in the 1830’s.  The brethren were only allowed to enter if they met standards of worthiness, much like LDS temples now require a recommend for entrance.  Revelation upon revelation were received in the store, and there were appearances by God the Father and Jesus Christ.  I was overwhelmed with gratitude for the firsthand accounts of these visitations, and for the opportunity I’ve been given to believe in their words.  This spiritual gift (to believe on the testimonies of others) is one I cherish and the faith that attends me as I go forward and act according to that testimony.

Our experience failed to go exactly as planned but when does that ever happen?  With a bit of flexibility and an unrushed attitude, we made the most of it and came out on top.  Kirtland OH is in the books.

 

How far we’ve come.

Jack and I have spent the last few days together, just him and me.  We’ve been doing it every few months since he was three months old, these pesky infusions.  It never gets easy.  Still, after ten(or more, I’ve lost track) visits to get his bone juice, it’s remarkable to see how far we’ve come.

The difference is night and day.

We’ve gone from subjecting an innocent infant to multiple unsuccessful vein pokes before resorting to the bulging vein in his forehead to Jack the toddler confidently strutting his way into “his room” in the medical facility-figuratively saying, “bring it”.

Those early days were rough.

It took three nurses and myself to hold Jack still enough to slide a needle into a vein, only to barely miss.  Or have it blow.  Or any number of things that could go wrong when working with tiny veins.

Jack would work himself into a frenzy, screaming bloody murder while we held him captive.  His eyes would plead with me to make it stop, not realizing that the very thing that was causing him pain was also the antidote to future pain(in the form of bone fractures).

 

I’ve thought a lot about these tender experiences.  The sadness I’ve felt at my son’s suffering.  Think of it.  His own mother, the one who is supposed to protect him, ignoring his helpless screams to end it all.  It must have been confusing to him at the time.

And yet.

Here we are now.  Jack’s veins are bigger and stronger, resulting in less frequent attempts to locate one successful enough to handle three days of infusions.  He’s done this enough to know that the pain is but a moment.

I hold him close and reassure him as the nurses prick him.  He whimpers quietly, uttering, “Mama, hurt.  Mama, ow.  Mama, all done?”

His resignation tugs at my heart.  His willingness to submit demonstrates strength.  And trust in me as his mother that despite the pain, I’m doing what’s best for him.

Being a parent helps me understand my heavenly parents more deeply.

Those with limited insight proclaim that a god could not exist, else why is there so much suffering in the world?  They imagine a god who caters to their every whim and cushions them from the blows of adversity.

I see a God who is our Father.  A parent who knows that challenges, difficulties, yes, even pain are THE VERY THINGS that strengthen his children.

Jack’s medication has prevented fractures, bone pain and bone loss, an outcome we could not have reasonably anticipated when we received his ominous diagnosis over two years ago.

So too, are the painful experiences in life for us.  A loving Father in Heaven allows them to happen, knowing the full picture.  And, just as I never left Jack’s side during his suffering, rest assured, our Heavenly Father is always there to comfort us.  It is our job to trust Him.

 

The one question I ask my kids after each altercation.

Tonight, I ducked out of the kitchen shortly after dinner to play the piano.  Why?  Well, because I wanted to, first of all.  But second, and this is what I told the kids, so that they wouldn’t retreat to the piano instead of doing their assigned post-dinner chores.

Never mind that I should have been modeling appropriate post-dinner behavior.  But I had made the dinner, after all.  They could clean it up.  It’s actually been the arrangement in our home for at least six years.  But somehow I typically spend all my energy after dinner corralling them into doing what should be habit by now.  Clearing the table, washing the dishes, loading the dishwasher, sweeping the floor and wiping the counters and table.  They make it look like rocket science most days.

So tonight I washed my hands of it, brushed Anna off the piano bench to prevent her from being distracted and played a few tunes myself.  Within minutes, a blow-up of epic proportions ensued.  Having hidden myself away in another room, I was unaware of the origins of this particular argument.  All I knew was that after a yelling match between Tim and Eve, Tim retreated upstairs to bathe Jack (which was apparently necessary due to the nature of the crime Eve had committed involving homemade slime).  The rest of the crew, unable to resolve the situation peaceably, continued the shouting match, leaving me no choice but to intervene.

I run a pretty tight ship.  But unless my kids are physically hurting each other, I really try to steer clear of their contentious interactions.  I don’t want the expectation of resolving all of their differences, nor do I think that facilitates good relationships.  Occasionally, when they get particularly riled up and the interaction degenerates into nuclear warfare, I send them to what we call “Lover’s Landing” (the landing between the two sets of stairs in our house) where I ask them to consider the question:

What could you have done better in this situation?

I don’t point fingers, there’s no blame game to speak of.  I simply ask them to acknowledge their role in how everything went downhill.

Much of the time they retort defensively, saying, “What about her?”  Or, “if she hadn’t done such and such, I wouldn’t have had to do this or that”.  It’s a basic human mechanism, to stew about how we are victims of circumstances, how someone else’s behavior was not only the catalyst but the cause of our own behavior.

It might be nature to do so, but it’s a mechanism founded in a fundamental falsehood.  A falsehood that fuels our rationalization of poor behavior.  And, if we’re really thinking big, the destruction of relationships, and even societies.  We are responsible for our actions and ours alone.  It’s actually quite liberating to believe so, despite how easy it is to blame others.

We have zero control over what others choose.  And we have complete control over what we choose.  At least that’s the goal.

So when I ask my children to consider “What could you have done better in this situation?” they have to dig deep, take a good hard look at themselves and decide where things started to go south and how their actions might have contributed to it.  It’s easier sometimes than others.  It requires humility but is incredibly empowering.

Tonight when I asked one of the two parties (the less “guilty” of the two, in my assessment of the situation) to evaluate what she could have done better, she responded, “Why are you mad at me?  I didn’t do anything.”  Typical.

I repeated myself.  “I’m sure that if you think really hard about it, you can find something you did (or didn’t do) that would have improved the outcome.  When you figure that out, commit yourself to doing it differently next time.”

Because we all know that (in families) there will always be a next time.

Both the girls involved were able to settle down, consider their role and resolve the situation successfully.  And tonight I got a glimpse that my efforts to raise peacemakers are making headway.  While one daughter flew off the handle, two other daughters helped to subdue her.  One gently washed her hair of the slime (that was the real culprit in the whole mess), the other cleaned it off the floor (and the walls and the ceiling).  Without a word of complaint.

That it ended up in those places was not really their fault.  But their resolution to “make the situation better” trumped their tendency to deny their roles in the argument.  It warmed this mother’s heart.

Unmet expectations. The parable of the non-flowering plum tree.

The first spring after buying our first home, I discovered that our neighbors had given us a little gift.  A perfect view of their gorgeous flowering plum tree, which we could enjoy from the comfort of the couch in our family room.

For the brief time it was in full bloom, I reveled in its beauty, which filled my soul in ways I cannot describe.

So what was my first landscaping decision after we purchased a second home in the neighborhood less than two years later?  Why, plant a flowering plum tree, of course.  And locate it strategically so that I could kick back and bask in it from the recliner in my family room.

Imagine my disappointment the following spring when instead of progressing from bud to flower to leaf, it skipped the second step entirely, leaving me wanting for those stunning pink blossoms.  I rationalized by attributing its meager flowering capacity to the tree’s immaturity.

Unfortunately the same disappointment repeated itself year after year after year.  We’ve lived in this house almost thirteen years and I can count on two fingers the number of times the tree has rewarded us with a beautiful display of flowers.  What a downer.

I realized fairly early on that plum trees need to cross-pollinate.  You can’t just slap one plum tree in the ground and expect it to be fruitful.  My expectation of springtime blossoms aplenty was built on misinformation.  I was longing for something that simply could not be.  At least not without some intervention on my part.

How often do our lives play out in a similar fashion?  How many of us have imagined outcomes in life that have yet to be realized?  And what can we do to mitigate the inevitable frustration that accompanies unmet expectations?

Let’s go back to my plum tree analogy.  In my case, I was lucky to discover the fault in my planning.  Armed with the realization that in order for my plum tree to produce blossoms it needed a member of the plum family in close proximity, the solution was obvious.  Plant another plum tree.

But…I was too lazy to do that.  Besides, we really only had room for one plum tree at that point.  So I picked option B.  Which was, get over the loss of a few meager weeks of pink blossoms and be grateful for what the tree had to offer the other nine months of the year.

That tree has provided shade for me as I’ve sat in my backyard to keep an eye on my frolicking children.  It’s housed dozens of birds, providing entertainment galore.   My kids once picked its tiny fruit (it’s a flowering plum, after all), ground them down to make a fascinating concoction, called it “plum butter” and sold it to the neighbors on our street.

Not to mention that my tree gratifies us with lovely purple leaves 6 months out of the year.  Why would I focus on the lack of pink flowers when it has blessed us with all that?  Even if the pink blossoms were the reason I desired it in the first place?

We would do well to do our homework before pursuing certain dreams.  But sometimes even the most careful research can fall short in producing desired outcomes.  Life still has a way of presenting pitfalls and challenges to our hopes and goals.  We must not let our expectations curb our efforts to appreciate all that is good in life.

Our didactic plum tree is on the chopping block as we prepare to add onto our home this year.  Though the disappointment of over eleven springs with nary a blossom to bless my soul is deep, I am reminded to be grateful.  Grateful for all the blessings in life that came to me unawares.  And grateful for the knowledge that joy can be found in the most unexpected places.  Even in flowering plum trees that refuse to flower.

Yesterday morning I peeked out my window to discover a few pink blossoms gracing the branches of our tree.  As if to say, “Sometimes you get exactly what you wish for.  Sometimes you don’t.  Either way, if you want to be happy, be grateful.”

 

 

Creation or big bang

Yesterday during Sunday School we discussed the Creation.  It always boggles my mind that scientists who deal day in and day out with the creations of our Heavenly Father fail so often to see His hand in it. The idea that God’s handiwork is simply a byproduct of a huge cosmic explosion and that we humans evolved from primordial soup makes me chuckle.

But then, I’m sure that my faith in a supreme being elicits a similar reaction from them.

In class, we watched this video and discussed the three accounts of the Creation to better understand whose work it was, what was done and why it was necessary.  One point that really hit home to me during this particular discussion was that God did not simply wave a magic wand to create the cosmos.  Matter existed in the first place.  Matter that needed only to be organized in a fashion that would fulfill God’s purposes to bless His children.

Now where that matter originated and who “created” it in the first place is a question to which I have no answer.  Still, I got hung up on the word “organize”.

You see, as a homemaker this makes perfect sense to me.  The idea that homes don’t create themselves.  They don’t just “happen”.  They take work, just as the home created by our Heavenly Father (the earth we live on, among other things) took work.

I’m always telling my kids: “We don’t live in a self-cleaning house.”  Or, “those socks aren’t going to pick themselves up”.  Entropy is real in my home.  Not only that, it’s a scientific principle.

All things will gradually descend into a state of disorder.  Unless.  Unless there is work.  Work performed by One who loves us enough to give us life and purpose despite our failure to recognize His hand in it all.

Just as my kids will never acknowledge the massive amounts of dirty socks I’ve picked up over the years.  Not that that even comes close but, well, you get the point.  Entropy is inevitable without someone to do the work.

Why are we so quick to buy into the idea that the magnificence of our earth, with all its beauty and order, its precise location in the solar system, its ability to sustain life for billions of people (and billions more creatures) is just dumb luck?

All things denote that there is a God.  Every time I see a magnificent sunrise, or listen to gentle raindrops of a long-awaited high desert rainstorm I feel like God is sending me little love notes.  Like He’s reminding me that His hand is over all, that He loves and watches over His children, just as I do mine.

I’m grateful for my faith.  For the underlying understanding that life on earth is simply an opportunity to prove ourselves.  I’m grateful to know who I am, a daughter of Heavenly parents, who love me and give me ample reminders of that love in the world that surrounds me.  It is glorious.  Life is glorious.

 

If these are your reasons for homeschooling, you might want to reconsider.

Teaching my kids is my favorite part of being a mother.   I take pride in the fact that each of my children learned to read well before kindergarten.  (If I’m really honest, I’ll acknowledge the fact they are geniuses and that their learning to read didn’t have much to do with me after all).  Selfishly though, I wanted to be part of that pivotal moment in their lives.

I also set up a mother’s cooperative preschool and taught each of my daughters consecutively for a grand total of eight straight years.  I adore preschoolers (especially those I get to call my own).  I considered it a blessing to play a role in their early childhood education.

Granted, ALL mothers participate in their children’s education, but somehow being their “teacher” fulfilled me in a way that would not have been satisfied had I sent them to a traditional preschool.

I’ve rubbed shoulders with plenty of homeschooling moms over the years and most of the ones I know deserve the utmost respect.  Spending all day every day focused on the education of your children is no joke.  (Arguably, I focus on my children’s education as a stay-at-home mom…although mine attend public school so I get a much longer prep period.  😉

I strongly considered the homeschooling route for my kids.  A variety of pros and cons tugged at me.  Ultimately, some half-truths presented by some individuals in the homeschooling community led to my decision to enroll my kids in the local elementary school.  Here are a few reasons to homeschool that turned me off in particular.

You are your child’s best teacher.  Well…yes and no.

It makes me cringe to hear homeschooling parents say things like, “I want to participate in all aspects of my kids’ learning.” Or, “I am the one most qualified to teach my children because I know them best”.  It reeks of insecurity.

My daughter Rachel volunteered to make scrambled eggs this morning as part of her sister Eve’s birthday breakfast.  She asked my permission to make the eggs “grandma’s way”.  Was I offended that she liked grandma’s way better than the one I had taught her?  Was it disappointing to discover that my efforts to teach the art of scrambled eggs was lost on her?  Did I feel underappreciated that she credits my mother for being the inspiration behind her desire to make scrambled eggs when she only had to show her the one time?

There was a time when I might have been.  Not anymore.  Why?  Because the end result is that my eleven-year-old has finally learned to enjoy cooking.   Shame on me if I am jealous because someone else inspired my kid in a way that I couldn’t.  Seriously.

I believe that it was no mistake that my kids ended up in our family.  I love the assurance that comes from knowing that God designed our family as He did because, in His wisdom, He knew that Tim and I had talents that would bless the lives of our children (and vice versa).

Having said that, I also subscribe to the idea that raising children takes a village.  I am my kids’ first and most important teacher, but I am not their only teacher.  Heaven forbid.  Therapy sessions all around.

My heart swells with gratitude for the community of parents and teachers that enrich my children in a variety of ways.  Gosh, what would parenting be like without grandparents, good neighbors and friends, and school and church teachers to support us in our efforts?  I am not so prideful as to think that I could do better than all of us put together.

Here’s another one:  Your child will learn at a faster rate in a homeschooling environment.  Possibly.  There are certainly studies and statistics to support the theory.  But at what cost?  And are academics the only measurement of a successful education?

As I mentioned earlier, I taught my kids to read before kindergarten.  It wasn’t hard.  I pretty much introduced them to basic phonics and threw in a few sight words and they were off and running.

They have continued to excel in school, despite even the best efforts of the public school system to stifle learning.  I kid.  But only slightly.  I’m fairly confident that, had their days been spent in a more concentrated environment at home with my undivided attention(ha!), they’d probably be graduating high school at age 14.

However, when I initially contemplated homeschooling, I came to the conclusion that what my kids needed most was not to be the best and the brightest in reading, writing and arithmetic.  They needed to develop empathy, discover how to get along with difficult people, and exercise patience with the most  annoying among them.  I could not provide those experiences, not in the way a public school setting would.

And, let’s be honest, some things have to be learned through experience.  Hard experiences.  Obviously there are extremes against which we should protect our kids…like abuse in all forms.   Those are NOT experiences to which I want my kids exposed.

However, I dare say public school in my suburban community will provide bounteous opportunities for my kids to interact with students and teachers from a wide variety of backgrounds while protecting them from some of the grittier possibilities found in public schools elsewhere.  It’s a chance I’m willing to take so my children can gain wisdom and experience.  Not at the expense of academics but in addition to.

Another reason people cite for taking the homeschooling route is this:  Your child won’t be subjected to “playground politics” and “worldly philosophies”.  Maybe not.  For eighteen years.  And then what?  Their homogeneous existence will be left vulnerable to those very undesirables when they leave the nest.  Except that those “playground politics” will involve far more than the tricks a relentless fifth-grade bully could come up with.  Will kids be prepared for the inherent temptations and risks associated with college/young adult life if they’ve lived an insulated existence for the eighteen years leading up to it?

Participate in a homeschooling co-op, you say?  Sign them up for extra-curricular activities?  Yes, that will provide contrast to the potential isolation of exclusive home learning.  It will also ensure that children are exposed to a variety of teaching/coaching styles.  Truly, there are many benefits to such an arrangement.

My only beef with homeschooling co-ops is that they, too, are homogeneous environments.  They are created by like-minded individuals with similar goals and backgrounds.

It’s like people who grow up in and never leave New York City and can’t wrap their brains around how someone can actually be a conservative.  Or people who live in Utah County and think that only “bad” people smoke or drink.  Certainly, it does not happen in all cases.  But it does happen.  And it’s simply a result of an unintentional indoctrination in certain beliefs and ideas when an environment lacks diversity in one or more areas.

Also, many homeschooling forums to which I’ve subscribed express utter disdain for public school and those who choose that option.  It’s an arrogance that I can neither tolerate nor to which I wish to subject my children.  For example:

Surely there’s enough goodness in the world that we can live in it but not be of it.  Within reason, our children should witness some of the bad in the world as well, feel the difference and seek the good.

I may not trust whole-heartedly in the public school system, but I do trust in the process of allowing our children the privilege of learning at the feet of a variety of adults.  I also acknowledge that development of the entire person supersedes academic achievement and feel that homeschooling sometimes (but not always) stifles that.  And finally, my experience with a good chunk of homeschooling families makes me question whether insulating my kids from the “horrors” of public school is really best for them after all.

When it comes right down to it,  each of us gets to decide what is best for our children.  Hopefully we are advocating for them and not motivated by our insecurities or misconceptions.  It is best to be aware of the flaws in certain arguments for homeschooling(and against, for that matter) before pursuing one course of action. Though there are plenty of sound arguments for homeschooling, the ones listed above are short-sighted, and simply don’t apply across the board.

Ironically, though I chose the traditional school path for my four daughters, I am strongly considering homeschooling my youngest, special needs son.  I will go in with an open mind and, hopefully for the right reasons.  In the process, I hope to mitigate some of the weaknesses in homeschooling while capitalizing on its many strengths.  Wish me luck.