Kissing the Wave

I think all of you know by now that I've been in a difficult season of life. One of the (many) consequences of these last few difficult years is that I lost my mojo in lots of areas of life, but one of the big ones is homeschooling. I have done a pretty terrible job for a while now and I decided I just don't want to do it anymore. I tried for the last six months to get out of it for next year. I looked into a wonderful private school that I love nearby. I looked into numerous co-ops and online classes. I did just about everything outside of hiring a private teacher, chef, and maid to move in with me and take over my life while I sleep it off for a year. And if that were an option, I'd be all over it.

The truth of the matter is I'm struggling to pull myself up out of a prolonged season of mild depression. I don't want to minimize real clinical depression. That is not what I'm dealing with. Mine is more of a loss of enthusiasm for life brought on by a prolonged season of sadness and stress. Life isn't as colorful as it used to be. Chocolate isn't as sweet. Brushing my hair every morning or wearing clothes that match are optional in my world. I'm sad to watch.

But try as I might to get out of doing life, and adulting in general, I can't do it. The Lord has closed every single outpost I've tried to hurl my responsibilities into. He has stopped me, closed every door, shut down every lead, halted every option. Even the lovely math tutor I had lined up for my older girls decided to retire suddenly. Maybe he heard we were coming. Or maybe the Lord has given me a work to do and isn't going to let me back out.

It's not that I didn't love homeschooling at one time. Once it was my life's passion. It was my identity. I was good at it. I spoke at conferences and had a pretty happening blog. People cared what I did with my school day and I shepherded a lot of tentative homeschooling moms as they got their toes wet in the homeschooling culture. It's not like I just have a couple of years to go. I have 14 years left. It's do or die time.

And I'm going to do. I'm going to lean in and embrace this work. It's holy work and the Lord is calling me to lean into it and lean into Him. That's exactly what I am going to do.

“I have learned to kiss the wave that throws me against the Rock of Ages.” ~ Charles Spurgeon

Homeschooling is the wave that is throwing me against the God Who called me to it. Sure, it's been a tough season and the wind is out of my sails. But the Lord has spoken pretty clearly. I'm going to put my efforts toward becoming spectacular at homeschooling again and join that community again, and maybe launch a new blog and get back into the conference life again. Those were my people - though most of them have graduated their kids and I find myself coloring my gray hair to fit in with the current, much younger, crop of homeschool moms. But hey, at least we don't wear denim jumpers and Keds anymore. Today's homeschool moms are much more fashionable than us old-school moms were. I think I might get a toe ring.

Tomorrow I'm going to my local convention and I'm going to listen to speakers for the next two days talk about Charlotte Mason and remind me why I love her. And why I love homeschooling. I'm climbing out of this dark hole I've been in and I'm going to write again and take pictures of my kids dissecting frogs and diagramming sentences. This is what the Lord has for me and I'm going to embrace it and do it from a place of rest and renewal leaning into Him for His sustaining grace.

I'm back, y'all!

I didn't take good care of her

My mother died 86 days ago. The first month or so I was sailing along pretty well. I think it was numbness more than wellness. Lately I've found myself hit with grief at the oddest moments. The thing that dominates my thoughts in these moments is knowing that I didn't take good care of her.

Before you write a lovely comment that I did a good job, am a good daughter and all the rest; I know that. I know in my head that I did the best I could with my painfully limited ability. But knowing and feeling are two different things and I don't feel like I did a good job. She suffered and I couldn't relieve her pain. She was a afraid and I couldn't reassure her. She didn't understand what was happening to her and I had no answers. She begged me to help her and I couldn't help her. I couldn't save her. She was sick and I couldn't find the answer. I couldn't find the right doctors, the right medicine, the right surgery, the right treatment regimen. I was wholly inadequate for the job.

I couldn't save her.

My peace comes from knowing it wasn't my job to save her. I know the One who saves. He saved her a long time ago and He completed that redemption 86 days ago. He relieved her pain. He removed all her fears. He had all the answers. He helped her in ways more immeasurable than I can imagine in my mortal mind.

He saved her. I couldn't even come close. For the sake of Christ, I am content with my weakness. I can say with more assurance than ever before, His grace is sufficient.

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. 10 For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong. ~ 2 Corinthians 12:9-11

All The Things

A lot of upheaval and resettling has been going on these last three-ish months. My mom died. In an odd way, that was the beginning of a big exhale rather than the beginning of a season of intense grief. I think the grieving had already begun years ago. I feel it most when things like Jessa Duggar's wedding aired and I knew Mom wanted to see it. Or something happens and I find myself wishing I could call and tell her. But overall, I'm doing far better than I expected and those last horrible weeks of her life haven't haunted me like I thought they would when I was living through it.

So the upheaval... several things. First I wanted to punt homeschooling. I'm burned out and tired of it, if I'm being honest. And I am. I attended the open house for an amazing classical Christian private school nearby. I was ready to sign on the dotted line but it costs lots of money and my children are behind from educational neglect due to these last many caregiving months with my mom. I also received very wise advice that I should not make a serious life-changing decision during the first year after a major loss. My mom was a major loss to me. She was a daily part of our lives and my best friend. Everyone prepares in some way to lose their parents, but the loss of my mother was more than just the loss of my mother. With that in mind, I decided to put private school on the back burner and try to find my homeschooling mojo again. I attended the big Teach Them Diligently homeschooling conference in Nashville and that kindled a little spark. I'm still trying to fan that into a flame. I'll let you know how it goes.

I am also toying with the idea of going back to school. I'm thinking about entering a masters program in nutritional science that has an emphasis on the role of nutrition in the prevention and treatment of cancer. That has been a passion of mine for some time and I'm ready to dig in and learn more about it. But I don't feel like I have my life back in order to the point I'm able to take on something extra. For now I'll toy with the idea and maybe later I'll do it.

My poor children. My poor house. My poor kitchen remodel. All has been neglected and my children have learned how to stay up to all hours and sleep until noon. They need to unlearn that. We have no measurable schedule. Working on that too. And a lot of issues have gone unaddressed like my just-turned-four-year-old still has a pacifier. Not that that's a huge deal but it's something that wouldn't have happened if I had been on top of my game. I've got some work to do.

Overall, besides the painful work of becoming more organized and disciplined, we are all doing remarkably well and the spring weather has gone a long way toward cheering me up. I'm finding my new normal. I think we're going to be OK.

But no promises.

Growing in Grace

My daughter found a notebook today with notes from a marriage conference we attended back when we were heavily entrenched in the patriarchal movement. These lists make me cringe. My apologies to my children for all the warped teaching we heaped upon them during those years.

Earlier today I was having lunch with a friend and I was trying to explain how we got caught up in it all. I told her that because my husband and I came into our marriage impure and quite secular, once Christ changed our hearts we wanted desperately to protect our children from making the same mistakes. The patriarchal movement was just so beautiful and sparkly with its prairie dresses and large families and homeschooling and family integrated churches and wheat grinding and Bible studies at daddy's knee (and there's nothing wrong with any of those things in and of themselves... I still love many of those things). It seduced us into it with the promise that if you just follow these principles, you'll raise godly children that will be protected from sin and heartache and they'll walk into marriage pure as the driven snow, never rebel, and their hearts will belong to their parents and to the Lord all of their days. It was exchanging Christ's righteousness and grace for a mess of pottage. I'm thankful He opened our eyes to our idolatry. I repent of all of it.

But this list, y'all. It's embarrassing.

Facebook "friends"?

I recently read a blog post which had a title much like this blog post. The premise of it was that, as Christians, we have no business in front of a screen with fake "friends" but should be in face to face interaction with real "friends". (Oh the irony that this article was posted on Facebook) Of course, most of you know by now that I've been in a rather long season of shaking off the shackles of legalism so I naturally bristle when people call things evil that are not evil. This particular blog post gave me such a reaction. But more than that, I want to defend Facebook for a few minutes because it's not only NOT evil, it has actually been a huge blessing to me and has given me a wide range of real friends (not in quotes) even though many I've never met face to face.

Before Facebook existed I lost touch with the majority of my old high school friends. Once it came along, I reconnected with many of them. I see their kids pictures and achievements. I know their struggles and they know mine. During this very dark season I've been in, high school friends that I haven't seen in 30 years came out of the woodwork to minister to us in very tangible ways; bringing food, offers to sit with my mother, offers of help with the work of closing out Mom's estate, taking me to lunch, attending my mother's funeral. That would not have been possible without Facebook.

We have a dog. His name is Buddy. We took this dog from a family who could no longer keep him. They live in South Carolina and I've never met them in person. But they have a terminally ill child and have faced a mountain of difficulties all known to me only through Facebook and blogs. I've known their family for years. When they needed to find a new home for Buddy, they put out a plea on Facebook and through a network of great dog rescue people I know, we transported Buddy from South Carolina to Alabama and he's been with us about five years now. Plus I keep up with their son and his condition and I know how to pray for him and for them every day. That would not have been possible without Facebook.

I posted daily updates on Facebook during Mom's illness and especially during her final days. It was a great one-stop-shop to keep friends and extended family informed on what was happening moment by moment. I had people I've never met from all over the country writing to me and praying for me and offering me much needed advice. I have blogging friends from back in the day when I was a serious blogger that I only keep up with now through Facebook. One posted this as a comment to one of my messy, sorrowful posts:

Angie, though we've never met I consider you a close friend and my heart is broken for what you are going through. Please know that we are praying for you and you are never far from our hearts and minds.

That would not have been possible without Facebook.

Facebook is my online journal. I have used it as therapy to put down my thoughts and emotions through our many trials this year. It is where I go to see what's happening with hundreds of friends I wouldn't have time to interact with personally on a daily basis. But it gives me a quick glimpse at everyone and I can laugh with them, see their needs, find out how I can pray, and be encouraged. It's an outlet for me to write down everything that's on my heart that day.

Of course, it can be used for evil just like the car in my driveway can be used to rob a bank. That doesn't make car ownership evil. Sure everyone needs balance in their lives and if you have no real "friends" you might want to step out in the world and meet some folks. But without Facebook, we would have missed a myriad of blessings and ministry from the people who came around us and carried us through it. Without Facebook, I would miss the opportunities to do the same for my friends (some in person and some not). Some of my truest friends are those I've never seen in person. Some of my most fake "friends" are some I know face to face. Friendship cannot be measured by the mechanism of meeting or staying in touch. It is measured by the sacrificial love and ministry to one another. I'm thankful for my friends.

Dear Mark Zuckerberg, I love you. That is all.

My mom

It's been a hell of a winter. My baby had heart surgery on December 5th and that was the most inconsequential thing that happened over the holidays. Her surgery was an complete success and she's doing beautifully, praise the Lord! That's pretty much the only happy thing I've got, but it's a big one.

My mom got very sick just two days after Hannah came home from the hospital. We found out that the cancer spread to her liver and further into her bones. There was also some discrepancy whether or not there was cancer in her brain. The neurologist said yes. The oncologist said no. Turns out the neurologist was right. We limped through Christmas bone tired and recovering from a family-wide stomach bug. Added insult to injury.

Mom continued to get crazy confused and began to lose her ability to speak after the first of the year. They started radiating her brain. She had four treatments. The first day she walked in and signed herself in. The fourth day we carried her in and she could barely form a coherent sentence. It was on that day that I pulled the plug on treatment and we went home on hospice.

Eleven days later my mother died.

Notice I said died. I didn't use the more polite "passed away" or the Christian-ese "went home to be with the Lord". And I believe wholeheartedly that she is with the Lord. It's not that. It's just that using those phrases whitewash what really happened. What really happened was ugly, traumatic, searingly painful, and horrific. I watched my mother in those eleven days have seizures and lose her ability to say anything but chants of 'Help me. Help me. Help me.' I watched her eyes go different directions. I watched her lose her ability to swallow and control her bodily functions. I was on the frontlines for all of it. And it sucked. It haunts me in my quiet moments. I see her bald and wild eyed and afraid. I see her trying to reach out to me but unable to tell me what's wrong. It's too much to bear.

Mom has been gone for three weeks and in some ways it seems like it's been years and in others it seems like just yesterday. I'm left trying to sweep up the pieces of my life that have been strewn around in a mess for so many, many months. My life was consumed with medicine schedules, doctors' appointments, treatments, and her daily care. It was my full time job and now I'm unemployed in a sense. I don't quite know what to do with myself.

I'm trying to figure out how to do life without my mom. I'm not there yet.