Blooming Where You Are Planted

I was leaving the house the other day, and caught a brilliant flash of white out of the corner of my eye. Bending down, I saw these...

Underneath the hibiscus are some petunias!

I'd grown petunias a little over a year ago in a pot on my front stoop. Eventually, they got long and leggy, and I pulled them out to put the hibiscus in their place. Then I promptly forgot all about them. Now, a year later, I see how the petunias seeded somehow in a crevasse between the brick and the stone, and in spite of the poor location, decided to bloom anyway.

Isn't that how life is? I remember my pastor, Charlie, at SouthBrook Christian Church in Dayton, OH spoke about how we should not over think things too much, but simply bloom where ever we are planted, even if it's an "accidental" planting! So often, we Christians wonder and sometimes even agonize about whether we are living in the right place to serve Christ, or if we are working in job He would have us in. The simple fact is, that where ever we are, we can be in the center of God's will simply by serving Him in that place.

I have experienced this truth not only geographically, but occupationally as well. After living in Ohio for many years, I felt very happy and planted. Our family had a wonderful church, and a strong and supportive group of friends. When my husband left his current job and our family moved to Florida, I felt adrift. I spent time questioning how I was to make sense of this new situation. How would I find friends for my children? For me? How would I find a church like the one I'd loved and left in Ohio?

It took time, but I took the first steps to being in God's will by simply submitting to my husband and trusting him to make the right decision for our family. I say it was simple, but it certainly wasn't easy. It took time and prayer. Then, I worked hard at breaking out of my comfort zone by connecting with new groups, churches, and people. Things didn't necessarily connect for me the first time, nor even the second, but with persistent efforts, prayer, and bravery (as an introvert, it took more than a fair share of that!), I eventually succeeded in establishing connections, not only for myself, but also for the children.

Blooming where I've been planted has also happened with regard to my current profession:  that of homeschooling mom. The role of Mother is such a critical one, and when you add the moniker of "homeschooing" in front of it, it becomes even more complicated. This has not always been an easy path for me. At times I have looked over my shoulder at other, more glamorous professions. Other times, I've sighed with longing when I've heard about the luncheon appointments or gym meet-ups of my less "time-challenged" sisters. But even though at times the surface ripples of discontent have been swirling and swift, underneath the stream has remained steady.

You see, I realize that I am incredibly privileged to serve my family in this role. God has entrusted me with His most precious possession, the souls of His children. And I take that role seriously. I never expected to homeschool three children back when hubby and I were first thinking about children, but here I am. As wild and challenging, and at times even difficult a ride that it's been, I wouldn't change it for the world. Now that I can look back over the past with 20/20 vision, I can see how God has been at work in my life and the lives of my husband and children. There is now more time behind me than in front of me on this educational journey I'm taking, and I'm incredibly thankful to have yielded my stubborn will to His, and have enjoyed the blooms in this corner of life I'm living in!

Cleaner, Cheaper...

For over a year now, I have been making my own laundry detergent. I started doing it out of curiosity, and have continued because I am truly impressed with how well it cleans and cares for my family's clothing. And the cost simply can't be beat! If you're interested, here's my recipe. I know there are a lot of similar ones out there on the internet.

• 1/2 bar Fels Naptha Soap
• 1/2 cup washing soda 
• 1/2 cup borax powder (I use 20 Mule Team)
• Essential Oils (I prefer orange oil and lavendar oil, and sometimes use eucalyptus oil)
• Water

This is the oil I am using presently.

Grate the soap and put it in a large pot.  Add 6 cups water and heat it until the soap melts. Add the washing soda and the borax. Stir it up until it dissolves. Remove from heat. Now add 1 gallon + 10 additional cups of water and stir. Shake a few drops of essential oils in until you are satisfied.

Decant the laundry detergent into smaller, easier to handle containers and allow it to gel. I add 1/2 cup of the mixture to my front load washer.

The large opening funnel came from the Automotive Department at WalMart.

This detergent works very well, and is extremely low-sudsing, so it doesn't mess up my front loader. The only additives I use, and only occasionally at that, is powdered OxyClean for organic stains and whites and Purex crystals if I have really stinky laundry. One batch fills five Simply Orange containers and lasts our family quite some time. It is also very quick to make.

Voila!

Lee Strobel

This past Wednesday night, Christ's Church was the place to be, as Lee Strobel, the famous Christian writer of many books, most notably The Case for Christ, came to talk about his faith journey and his book. Personally, I have found this particular book to really resonate with my understanding of the authenticity of Christianity. Mr. Strobel gave a compelling talk about what he called the "Four E's," which I'll list below:

1. Execution - This states that it is an undisputed fact that Jesus was, indeed, executed.  He did die.
2. Early Accounts - This asserts that there wasn't enough time to elapse for legends to develop. Lee stated that Jesus is agreed to have been crucified around the year 30 A.D. In contrast, I Corinthians 15:3-6 is generally agreed to have been written about the year 54-55 A.D.  Written by Paul, it is agreed to be an early creed of the Church, and is expressed in this manner... "For what I received I passed on to you as of first imporrance:  that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures, and that he appeared to Cephas, and then to the Twelve.  After that, he appeared to more than five hundred of the brothers and sisters at the same time, most of whom are still living, though some have fallen aseep.  Then he appeared to James, then to all the apostles, and last of all he appeared to me also, as to one abnormally born." (NIV)
3. Empty Tomb - Here Lee offers three arguments, or "proofs" if you will.  They are (a) the Jerusalem Factor, which is the site of Jesus' tomb, which was known to Christians and non-Christians alike, (b) the Criterion of Embarrassment, in that women were the first to discover the empty tomb, which lends to its authenticity, and (c) Enemy Attestation, in which the argument at the time is that the disciples stole the body.
4. Eyewitnesses - Where Jesus appeared to more than 515 people, of which there are nine early ancient sources which confirm this.

I really enjoyed hearing him talk about his life and the path he's been traveling. If I've at all piqued your interest, I would highly recommend you pick up a copy of this fascinating book!

Lee and me!

My Own Personal (R)evolution

Daughter's Kool-Aid Chianti Shawl

I've been a Crafter as long as I remember.  And from the first, my interests lay in a decided direction... fiber. I remember sitting on the floor of my grandmother's farm house in Marquette, KS with one of her crochet hooks and some yarn (probably Red Heart).  She had just inducted me into that wonderful society of fiber artists by showing me my first move, the chain stitch. That's pretty much it, but I was delighted and diverted, and contentedly sat there chaining away to my heart's content. I had no idea how to turn that wonderful chain into anything meaningful, but it didn't matter. I was creating!

Fast forward a couple of years. As a young Girl Scout, I found I loved to earn badges. One of those badges was knitting. When I learned of a lady in our community who was willing to teach this mysterious method of turning yarn and pointy sticks into sweaters, scarves, and mittens, I became ecstatic. Grandma, slowly slipping into the abyss of Alzheimer's, was no longer able to mentor me, so here was another door opening up for me. Dutifully, for four weeks I showed up, along with two other Girl Scouts, to this lady's apartment where she attempted to teach me knitting. I'm thinking I was around nine years old at the time. Unfortunately, although my brain understood what I was meant to do with my hands, my hands had alternative plans of their own and steadfastly refused to cooperate. I never finished that scarf.

I turned my attention to other fiberly directions. Mom was a wonderful seamstress, and in Junior High, she, along with my Home Ec teacher collaborated to teach me how to sew.  Either because I had matured, or I was just naturally better at it, the sewing thing caught on. For the next fifteen years, sewing because my standard fibery pursuit. I sewed clothing, accessories, and home items. I still love and use some curtains from this particular period in my life. Sewing was fun, and I still love it, but it took up space and required time, neither of which I had as a young married woman working a full time job, so once I began my professional life, the sewing dried up to a trickle. And when Child Number One was born, the stream dried up entirely.

I stopped working when my baby was born.  My world was suddenly filled with diapers, feedings, burpings, and lullabies. I stayed away from sewing the entire time with the exception of the tiny infant layette I sewed in anticipation of his birth. Two and a half years later his baby brother joined him, and I was busier than ever. But I had learned something else. I needed a little tiny corner of creativity just for me, or I shriveled up inside. I dabbled with jewelry-making, even purchasing a torch to make lampwork beads, but while I enjoyed that craft immensely, it just didn't satisfy me in the way that fiber did. During that time, I visited my husband's Nana in Alabama, and she and my mother-in-law visited one night. Somehow, fiber entered our conversation, and she pulled out her yarn and crochet hook. That very night, those sweet ladies reintroduced me to crochet, this time showing me how to turn that chain into something else. Something useful. Something beautiful. A baby blanket.

I spent the next couple of years delving deep into crochet. As a left-handed crocheter, I found patterns to be confusing, so I did my own free form crochet. I checked out a book from our library named Left-Handed Crochet and happily worked my way through several blankets and quite a few granny squares. I even spent a great deal of time putting tiny lace edgings on handkerchiefs! Yep, I was smitten again, but it was just going to get better, as it wasn't long after that, my mother-in-law introduced me to knitting again.

This time, I took off. It's as if my brain had never ceased working out how to make my hands obey, and this time they got it right. I jumped right into knitting blankets and scarves, and leaped right on over to hats and sweaters. A couple of years after that, I dove headlong into lace, and it's been love ever since. I can't even count the number of shawls I have knit, along with mitts, blankets, or lace washclothes. Eventually,  I

Sakaki shawl, given away to a dear friend.

jumped into designing shawls and knitwear for myself and to sell, but I digress somewhat, because my next adventure was spinning.

For me, the means of introduction to the spinning world was a top whorl spindle that I purchased on-line from Simple Market Farms.  Now out of business, the small company made quality "beginner" spindles that didn't cost a fortune.  By this time, Baby Number Three had joined the ranks, and I had a certified toddler/preschooler who loved to help me learn by spinning the spindle for me, so I could concentrate on my hand movement.  Like my earliest forays into knitting, my mind knew what it wanted to accomplish, but my clumsy hands wouldn't obey. It took weeks of patient practice for me to finally work out how to spin, but by then my skills were well on their way!

Here is Simple Market Farm's littlest spindle, the Briar Rose, nesting in a soft pile of Pachuko cotton.

I spun and spun and spun on my spindles, for about five years before I ever got a wheel, so once I did, the wheel spinning was easy peasy. To this day, I'm undecided about which experience I enjoy more, my wheels (Majacraft Rose and Little Gem) or my spindles. Each one is special, and as I spin on them, I feel my stress slip away with each rotation. It's better than therapy, and cheaper to boot!

My most recent venture in the fiber arts world that has stuck (I tried weaving, but it just didn't call to me like the rest) is dyeing. At this point, I have chosen to dye with food grade dyes, like Kool-Aid, Paas Easter Egg Dyes, and Wilton cake dyes, because frequently, my daughter, now a fiber artist in her own right, likes to join me.

Kool-Aid Dyed Yarn

Close Up of the Yarn

I have so enjoyed introducing her into my fiber arts love. She now sews, knits, crochets, and dyes like a professional! This blue yarn was special, in that it was destined for her shoulders as a sweet shawl, the Chianti Shawl.

Skeined!

So we come back around. The ever-revolving fascination continues, for myself, and now for my daughter. It is a true delight, and a joy, and I look forward to continuing my learning in this wonderful medium!

Road Trip! (and a side of knit!)

On Sunday, I got to do something special.  I drove my oldest up to Hilton Head, South Carolina so he could have some friend time with his bestie from Ohio.  These two boys knew each other from the cradle.  In fact, our two families had back to back pews, and I remember the boys entertaining each other while we listened to the sermon.  It was very handy having babies to look at each other.  Fascinated with each other, they typically remained fairly quiet for the duration of the service, a fact for which both our families were grateful.

As things would have it, our family left Ohio about five years ago.  It was very hard to leave, and I know it was hard on the kids, but I am so grateful the boys have managed to keep their friendship.

They've changed a lot since they were babies!

When we heard that they were going to be vacationing in our area, there was no question but that the boys would have to get together!

The drive from Jacksonville to Hilton Head wasn't as long as I thought it would be. It turned out to be just under four hours drive time.  That meant it was four hours of captive Mom/Son time!  My oldest had just gotten back from a missions trip to Nashville, so I enjoyed hearing him tell about his experiences along the trip.  We started listening to The Great Gatsby, as read by Tim Robbins.  And we drove through a monstrous monsoon and made it out alive!

I greatly enjoyed visiting with my friend, Ann.  I was very relieved to know that rather than having to turn right back around and drive four hours to get back home, I'd had the foresight to get a hotel room about 30 minutes away.  I took myself off to The Hampton Inn in Bluffton, where I promptly locked myself in a quiet room and began to work on a new design and knit.  I wish I could show it to you, but it has to remain a secret for the time being.  I can say this much:  it's a shawl and it has a watery theme.  I'm still working on some basics, but I think I've essentially figured it out.

After a sleepless night (long story, but it was basically about my other son being stuck in flight delays in Atlanta due to weather), I hauled myself out of bed to begin the long drive home.  But then I stopped and thought.  Savannah, Georgia was just a short drive away!  Now, I have always wanted to visit Savannah.  A few years ago, my mom and my sister had made plans to visit this city for a girl vacation that never happened because of Mom's health.  It didn't take much pondering before I decided to take a side trip to this beautiful city, in honor of Mom.

On the back roads to Savannah

I took the back roads from Bluffton, and only 30 minutes later I had arrived!

Live Oaks Abound!

I made my way over to a fiber shop that I'd learned of via Knit Map.  One of the shops I pulled up as being in Savannah was Wild Fibres.  I showed up just prior to opening, at 10:00.  Parking on the street was metered, and after searching for silver, I found I had exactly .45!  That was enough to buy me about 30 minutes of shop time, and while I would have loved to stay a bit longer, I was still able to visit with the friendly employee (or owner?  not certain!).  I was thrilled to see that the shop prioritized spinning fibers in the front of the store, although yarns were well-represented as well.

Wild Fibre is up the stairs, in a lovely shopping district.

I ended up selecting some cotton for spinning, and I'm hoping to tackle it a bit later on today with my spindle.

Weighing the cotton

The photo fails to capture the greenish tint.

Too soon, it was time to go.  I've decided my sister and I definitely need to get away for a girl's trip soon. Mom would have loved it!

A Poem in Honor of My Boy, Courtesy of Walt Whitman

I was pulling materials together this afternoon for the upcoming school year, when I came upon my old college Norton Poetry Anthology.  As I held the heavy tome, I remembered the joy I felt as I came across new to me poems in Mary Klayder's English 210 class.  I flipped through, lighting on this particular one.  I thought my kiddo would understand.

When I Heard the Learn'd Astronomer
By Walt Whitman, 1865

When I heard the learn'd astronomer,
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,
When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,
When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,
Till rising and gliding out I wander'd off by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look'd up in perfect silence at the stars.

I think that says it all, don't you?

Getting Dirty

When my hubby and I first decided that we were financially and emotionally prepared to have children (it makes me laugh to think I could ever be "prepared"), I imagined idyllic days spent with children who were pretty much exactly like me.  At the time, I confess I never even thought about homeschooling as a lifestyle choice.  I simply imagined spending time with them reading, discussing ideas, and enjoying each other's company.  And after the typical period of time, my journey into motherhood began.

The first child, a boy, pretty much satisfied my assumptions about mothering.  Outside of a massive case of reflux, this kiddo seemed to appreciate the same things I did.  He enjoyed my music (of course he was only a few months old, so he didn't have much say in the matter), and was perfectly delighted with spending copious amounts of time in the glider reading Goodnight Moon, The Big Red Barn, and pretty much anything by Eric Carle.  He was a quiet, introspective little boy, and I knew with certainty that I was an excellent mother.

A few years later, hubby and I were ready for another baby.  After all, we had already demonstrated that we had done a pretty good job with the Baby One, and couldn't wait to have another opportunity to have another.  Almost immediately we found we were expecting, and I excitedly counted down the days until our next precious arrival was due to arrive.

Arrive he did.  Late by one week, he burst his way into the world lustily crying and weighing in at a respectable 9 1/2 pounds!  It truly was love at first sight, and I couldn't wait for the brothers to meet.

Over time, I found that while my new little guy enjoyed books, he really enjoyed playing with them the most. Once his brother would go into his room for afternoon quiet time, I would pull out those well-loved precious volumes to share with baby brother, and he would happily listen, but not for long.  You see, this guy was an EXPLORER.  Not content to sit back and passively receive information, my little guy learned to move early, I think just so he could savor more of life!  And while he was a better napper than big brother, I suspect it was primarily so that he could store up extra energy for his hands-on learning activities.

This little guy happily helped me reorder my CD collection (all over the floor), He loved to sample robust flavors (his favorite food as a little one was calamari and avocado).  And he liked to make noise.  Lots of noise!  Needless to say, it was clear pretty early on that this little guy had a personality much different from me!

This has been a continuing challenge for me in more ways than one.  My learning style is totally different than his.  My boy craves hands-on experiences.  Not content to just do basic school work, he is always questioning why something needs to be done and what relevance it will have to his future life.  More than once, I have been stymied by his questioning and unable to give him an answer that would satisfy.

Frankly, stymied is a word that describes our relationship a lot of the time, even today.  As an active 13-year-old, this child wants to DO and EXPERIENCE.  Not content to listen to lectures, dissatisfied with meaningless (to his way of thinking) school experiences, and frustrated by the slow pace (at least to his eyes) of life, I am torn at providing what I feel is a strong foundation in the "basics," and allowing him to "specialize" to his heart's content.

This is the kid who wants to work in fiberglass, own a 3-D printer, get a welder for Christmas, and start a business via Shapeways.  He has picked up more ancient computers at the local thrift store than I can count, and loves to upgrade them and bring them back to useful life. He taught himself Java, and I can't even begin to keep up with him in the subject of programming or computing.  While I'm the sort of gal who likes to dip her toe into the waters to see if the temperature is comfortable, he's the type to want to run and do a massive canonball splash into the water, yelling "Cowabunga!" the whole way down!

It has to be terribly frustrating to be a 13-year-old entrepreneur living in a home of 9-5ers, but he manages it, and gives me grace daily. But this week, this week is DIFFERENT.  You see, this beautiful boy of mine is staying with another like-minded soul who gets what he wants and needs. This week, my boy is with Grandpa!

Yep, the boy is welding!

Grandpa totally gets this mystery child of mine. He knows he needs to experience life in a meaningful way, and thanks be to God, he's helping him to have these tremendous experiences I could not provide for him here. Not only has he been welding, but he's managed to do many other "real-life" shop experiences as well. And he's having the time of his life!

I have no idea what it is, but isn't it awesome?!

Grinding away...

No idea, but it looks like he's having a grand time!

Seeing all of this fun my boy is experiencing seriously makes me want to chuck the whole city life and move out to the country, just so I can have a big shed and fill it with experiences for my kids.  As that is unlikely to happen any time in the near future, I am so thankful my dad is there to fill in those gaps.  Seriously.  I get teary just thinking about it.

So what's next on the agenda? According to the guys, it's some fishing later on tonight.  Perhaps tomorrow they'll be able to drive a tractor out at a friend's field.  Or maybe they'll have another opportunity to hang with Norm and his fellows out at Dauer Welding.  Or perhaps drive the Polaris.  Anyway you slice it, it's going to be fun!