I’m "Just" a Stay-at-Home Mom

This past week my husband and I had the pleasure of having dinner at our pastor’s house. Every couple of months, they invite a group of new church members over for food and fellowship — it was fun getting to know others and relax for a couple of child-free hours. At one point, one of the pastors asked what we did for a living, and I responded with, “I’m just a stay-at-home mom!” Without missing a beat, he said, “There’s no ‘just’ about it, that’s a fulltime job!” He was absolutely right.

My life as a stay-at-home mom far surpasses my former life as a high school English teacher. I truly loved my students, but the love I feel for my own children is enough to take my breath away. These last three years as a homemaker are vastly different than the six years I spent in the classroom, but they are infinitely more rewarding. The fact that God allows me to be exactly where I am, doing exactly what I’m doing, overwhelms me with gratitude and humbles my heart.

Meeting my husband’s and children’s needs is a never-ending task, but one worth pursuing. I’ve come to see my responsibility to my family through the lens of Christ’s sacrificial love. My attitude is paramount to living out sacrificial love to my family — if my heart is not centered on God, then my patience runs thin and my children suffer. Finding balance in keeping the home, loving my husband, educating Asher, taking care of Keane, preparing meals, and pursuing my own creativity can take a toll…if my focus is in the wrong place.

Aside from anchoring myself in scripture, I have found these books to be essential to my motherhood:
     1. Grace-Based Parenting by Tim Kimmel
     2. The Mission of Motherhood by Sally Clarkson
     3. Treasuring Christ When Your Hands are Full: Gospel Meditations for Busy Moms
         by Gloria Furman

My bookshelves are also stocked with titles on strong-willed children, childhood brain development, and methods for classical education…but I’ve found that it’s much easier to deal with my strong-willed child when my will is bent to his Maker. When I respond with grace and sacrificial love, his tantrums tend to be curbed from melt-downs into teachable moments that involve scripture. Is every discipline encounter full of snuggle-hugs and bible verses? Absolutely not. There are still plenty of off-the-charts melt-downs, but when I’ve taken the time and effort to center myself in God’s word, I am more inclined to respond as Christ responds to me.

There are days when I’m beyond exhausted from sleepless nights, and on those days it’s God’s grace that carries me through. There are days when I scoop my three-year-old up in my arms and ask his forgiveness for my impatience and my poor attitude; hearing his sweet voice say, “I forgive you, Mommy,” humbles me anew. I don’t have it all together. I am not perfect. My failures are enough to fill a vast ocean, yet his mercies are new each morning. His grace is sufficient for me, his power is made perfect in my unending weakness.

An Open Letter to my Gay Friends

Hello there, you beautiful person!

I don’t know what it’s like to be lesbian, gay, bi-sexual, or transgendered. I don’t know what it feels like to be hated or picketed or asked to leave a church because of my lifestyle. At best, I know the pain of gossip from fellow Christians. (It’s not every day a small-town pastor’s daughter gets divorced, and when that does happen, people like to talk.) From my own public sins and mistakes, I know how it feels to have people you once loved and trusted not want to be around you, not want to talk to you, and assume you must not be a “real Christian.”

Here’s what I do know: I know what it’s like to have grown up alongside you, to have laughed over inside jokes, and to have watched you grow as a person. I know what it’s like to serve alongside you in the military, to trust you wholeheartedly with my life, to sleep on the floor in abandoned hangars and share MREs. I know you are strong because I saw your family turn their backs on you, and you picked yourself up and kept going. I know you are resilient, because I watched you keep your head held high after church leadership embarrassed you by asking you to leave the youth group.

Here’s what else I know: You are created in the image of God. Your name is written on his heart, and his hands. You are lovely, worthy to be loved, and you matter. I am deeply sorry that people use the name of Jesus to make you feel unloved. From the bottom of my heart, I apologize for Christians telling you that you don’t deserve God’s love, grace, and hope.

For every person who has been told they were beyond hope, help, or love, I am penitent. For every time the church at large chooses only to focus on a specific sin (while ignoring a host of others) and unleash judgment, I ask your forgiveness. To the single mothers who have been made to feel less than because of their marital status, I am sorry. To the unfaithful spouse who has been written off and ignored, I am sorry. To the brokenhearted spouse left to try and sort out the pieces without the full support of a church, I am sorry. To the teenagers who dress differently and are viewed with disdain by elders, I am sorry. To anyone and everyone who has been hurt by someone in the name of Christianity, I am truly sorry.

Simple Pre-K Homeschool

We’re a few weeks in to our pre-k homeschooling foray, and things are bumping along quite well. I’ve read more than my share of books and blogs about education (considering the fact that I am a certified teacher), and my favorite aspect of our classical academic path is its simplicity. Ideally, you should be able to educate your child with nothing more than a library card and a stick in the sand. My go-to podcasts and bloggers are Circe Institute and Amongst Lovely Things. Granted, I’m using a bit more than just those two essentials, but I’m sticking with things I already have around the house.

I’ve found that my son and I thrive on a somewhat predictable routine, so I implemented a system that keeps us on track. It has been very helpful to put the reigns in his hands — this gives him ownership and allows him to express a healthy sense of autonomy. Academic responsibility from the get-go! I made a “schedule” so he could choose the order of our daily lessons. (Juggling nap times, laundry, and trying to keep us fed left me a bit inconsistent in our daily school routine.) He gets to add a clothespin (by himself, to work on dexterity) each time we do something new. He loves it!

Learning is most effective when it occurs in a natural, integrated fashion. Today, we read Reptiles and Amphibians by Cynthia O’Brien. I used the book to springboard into phonics, math, and science. The words amphibian, frog, and snake contain blends and digraphs that we’ve been practicing — so I made an effort to point out a few of them as we read. When Asher saw a captivating photo of a green tree python a few pages in, he wanted to learn more about it. A quick Google search revealed that they grow between five and seven feet long; he ran and got the tape measure so we could measure and count the appropriate number of feet. All of this snake trivia eventually led to watching a YouTube video of a ten-year-old girl feeding her snakes (which literally left me nauseous, but I put on my brave face for Asher). We then discussed predators and prey, and I did not sugar-coat the fact that animals eat other animals…even the cute, furry ones.

Generally, I’m not a fan of doing crafts with every lesson, but I try to work something in every now and again. This paper-plate snake took minimal effort on both of our parts, but it provided maximum output. We talked about how reptiles and amphibians use their camouflage as we colored (he’s very much into team efforts), then we recounted that reptiles are cold-blooded; have dry, scaly skin; lay eggs; and breathe air.

With his homemade snake proudly displayed on his easel, he excitedly told Daddy and Papa all about reptiles soon after they walked in the front door this evening. Fair warning to anyone who happens to visit: Asher will enthusiastically maul you with newly-acquired information and boundless energy! All of this homeschooling occurred while little brother napped. After he woke up, we listened to the Song School Latin CD, and watched Preschool Prep’s Digraphs DVD. These CDs and DVDs are by no means essential to pre-k homeschooling efforts, but I use them as life-hacks so I can take care of laundry, clean up the kitchen, and prepare dinner without two children underfoot. Work smarter, not harder!

The Farmhouse

My parents, brother, and sister-in-law had the crazy notion to sell their houses, buy several acres, and live off the fat of the land (ok, maybe not that last part). I watched from afar as they channeled their inner Steinbeck and gave an old, rundown house new life and a distinct personality. This place is adorable!

My mother cleaned and repurposed antique mason jars into light fixtures. These jars were left behind by the previous owner, so it’s quite fitting that they adorn the house with light and life.

In the dining room

Above the kitchen sink

In the main bathroom

Perhaps the most distinctive aspect of the house is the pallet wall in the living room. It steals the show and is one of the first things visitors notice upon entering the front door. My father and brother put their blood, sweat, and tears into this project. In addition to being rustic-fabulous, it screams to be photographed. I happily obliged!

Taking pictures of my minions proved to be more difficult than herding cats, so excuse the blurriness. Asher really needed to get back to playing in the dirt, so he stood still(ish) for one good shot. Keane was an hour past naptime; his main concerns were attacking the camera, smacking the light reflector, and snuggling up in his Vivi’s lap.

“I’m done, Mom.”

Just let me sit here with Vivi…

He reached his limit!

Expect this year’s Christmas cards to feature The Wall.

I’m looking forward to fun farmhouse festivities all summer long! The front porch and shaded yard will be seeing major action from all of the kiddos — the entire property will echo with laughter!

Egg-free Paleo Donuts

My gluten-free, dairy-free, egg-free life doesn’t leave any wiggle room for an early morning run to the local donut shop. Well, technically I could “run” there and back for some exercise…but I still wouldn’t be able to eat any of the fare. C’est la vie.

At best, these are reminiscent of a cake donut. (The best of which I ever had was at the summit of Pike’s Peak in Colorado, on a family vacation in the mid-’90s.) As all Paleo-people know, you’ve got to let go of those childhood ideals of sugary, gluteny baked goods…because no matter how many Danielle Walker cookbooks you buy (and I have them all), you’re never going to replicate Krispy Kreme.

Without further ado, here’s the recipe. This happy accident came about when I was experimenting with a muffin recipe…just channeling my inner kitchen Bob Ross!

(Makes 6 donuts)

Dry ingredients:
1 cup almond flour
1/2 cup coconut flour
1/8 tsp baking soda
A pinch of pink Himalayan sea salt (or whatever you’ve got)

Wet ingredients:
2 tablespoons raw, organic, local honey
1.5ish tablespoons organic maple syrup (more or less depending on your sweet tooth)
3/4 cup almond milk (coconut milk will work, too)
1.5 tablespoons flax oil
1 gelatin egg (for a VEGAN version, make a chia egg instead of using gelatin)
—(1 tablespoon grassfed gelatin mixed with 55ml water – mix briskly with fork as soon as the gelatin hits the water, otherwise it will congeal into a gummy glob – let the mixture sit for 5ish minutes to gel before adding it to the other wet ingredients)
2 tablespoons melted coconut oil

Directions:
Preheat oven to 350, grease your donut pan.
Mix all dry ingredients in one bowl.
Mix all wet ingredients in another bowl. (I use my immersion blender with the whisk attachment.)
Add wet ingredients to dry ingredients, stirring with a spoon or spatula — don’t use your mixer here.
Divide evenly among six donut cups (or whatever the proper term is for donut pans).
Bake for 20-25 minutes.

(Disclaimer: The other side of your donuts won’t be puffy and magical — they’ll be flat because egg-free baked goods don’t rise well. Just turn it over and stare at the pretty side.)

You’re on your own with the icing. I asked Asher if he wanted chocolate or vanilla icing, and he insisted that he didn’t want any icing. What three-year-old doesn’t want icing?! Heartbreaking, I know.

DIY: School at Home

I’m a simple girl, so it makes sense that my efforts at homeschooling are more stick-in-the-sand than glitter-glam. After perusing Pinterest until my eyes oozed out of my head, I decided that attempting most of those wonderfully fancy projects would turn me into a crazy person. So, I vowed to spend as little money as possible and utilize the resources I already had.

This DIY morning board (as I have so aptly named it) is easy to put together and even easier to use. The easel was a Christmas gift two years ago, the 100-pack of paper plates were in the pantry, the paper calendar was hanging in our bathroom, and the ABC scripture flip-chart had been hanging around the house for a few months. I used three Command adhesive hooks leftover from party decorations, two binder rings leftover from my teaching days, and a lone clothespin from the laundry room. The bingo dotter came from the dollar store, and we use it to mark of the date each morning.

The easel serves as command central for our morning time routine. As soon as Asher is coherent enough to pitter-patter out of the bedroom, he asks to do the date. I point to each part of the calendar as I say, “Today is Monday, June 1st. The year is 2015.” He takes his bingo dotter and dots the current day. Then we count all of the days of the month, pointing to each number. Next, I ask him about the weather, then help him affix the clothespin to whatever picture matches whatever is going on outside. After the date and weather are taken care of, we move on to our ABC scriptures. We focus on memorizing one scripture a week, and we review the previous weeks’ scriptures as we go along. (This is very helpful for me, too!) Considering he’s only three years old, I don’t want to go really in-depth with our morning time. Some days he doesn’t want to count all of the days, so I’m not opposed to letting that slide on occasion.

The magnetic marker board is great for writing practice — we can also flip it over to use the chalkboard side. This past week we learned about mammals, so we dug through his animal magnet collection and put the mammals on the magnet board. Then every couple of days we would review their characteristics. (He loves telling people that all mammals toot…you’ve been warned!)

This simple, stress-free morning board helps us start our day, and serves as a launchpad for whatever else happens to be on the agenda. It puts him in the learning mindset, and he usually asks to practice Latin or do phonics after we finish our little routine. Other days, we sit together in the floor and work on rhyming and counting puzzles. I try to let him lead us based on whatever his little heart desires — this keeps our 3K homeschool time light and fun. I want to keep him excited about academics, as opposed to enforcing a monotonous morning routine.

The Duggars, Molestation, and Christianity

This is a blog I did not want to write. Its topic kept me tossing and turning all night long. When both of my children afforded me the opportunity to take a nap, I couldn’t. My mind and heart were too busy swirling with indignation.

Let me begin by saying I do not watch reality TV, so I’ve never followed 19 Kids and Counting. I’m in-Duggar-different, if you will. But sexual abuse and molestation is something to which I am not indifferent. As a human. As a mother. As a Christian. It disgusts me on every level.

It is sin, but it is also a crime. Yes, sins are forgivable. Yes, grace abounds. Yet, I take great issue with how the Josh Duggar situation was handled, and how many Christians are unequivocally supporting the offender — no questions asked. Over the past twenty-four hours, my Facebook newsfeed has been filled with statements like: “I sure hope this isn’t true!” and “I support the Duggars!” and “Those poor parents!” I’ve even read the words, “Looking at his sisters now, I believe they have not been emotionally scarred. If they are, then they are hiding it super well.” That last statement still has me floored.

Let me break it down to the simplest of terms: A fourteen year old boy groped and fondled the breasts and vaginas of his younger sisters and a family friend. The sisters’ ages at the time of the molestations were twelve, ten, nine, eight, and four.

When the father learned of this inexcusable behavior, he chose not to properly report it. Josh was sent to a family friend’s house for a few months to help with construction projects, decidedly NOT a rehab program. The victims were most likely told how sorry Josh was, and how important it is to forgive him — so they could all heal and move on. Telling a family friend who is a cop (who did not file a report, and, believe it or not, is now serving prison time for child porn) and telling church elders are NOT proper and safe reporting procedures.

I am a Christian. I am also a victim of molestation. When I was twelve, a seventeen year old boy groped and fondled me. For anyone fortunate enough not to have endured that experience, it is paralyzing. It’s scary beyond what I can relate with words, and it leaves lasting unseen wounds on one’s soul. Do those wounds eventually heal? For me, they did. But do they for everyone? No. I never had to see my offender again. Never had to hear his voice, see his face, or sit around the dinner table with him.

It’s different with the Duggars. These girls saw their parents protect the person who hurt them. They saw their parents sweep their pain under a rug. These girls ate dinner with their molester. I imagine they exchanged birthday hugs, sang Christmas carols together, and had to hide their fear for the sake of the family.

Saying “I support the Duggars” in their mishandling of sexual abuse is similar to saying you agree with how the Catholic church handled molestation.

I’m not asking anyone to hate the Duggars. What I am asking is for Christians to stand up for victims. Stop saying, “He was only fourteen!” or “It happened a long time ago…everyone should stop judging.” For victims, the abuse doesn’t stay in the past. It affects every aspect of their lives — their trust for family, for authority, and for their future dating and marriage relationships.

I wonder, would those who so proudly support how the Duggars handled sex crimes against their daughters be just as supportive if they were in that situation? Would I see Facebook posts of, “I support my daughter’s sexual offender!” and “Who am I to judge my daughter’s abuser?!”

Considering Lilies…

It’s been quite a rough week…and we’re barely halfway through. A restaurant mishap led to a major allergic reaction to eggs — I’ve been out of commission for three days. Little Man is teething something fierce, and has been waking up every hour and a half. I’m in great need of rest, but there is little to be found.

I did, however, sneak outside after a rainstorm while both boys napped. I drank in as much beauty as possible before returning to my motherly duties. In that short amount of time, I felt refreshed. God reminded me that the lilies neither toil nor spin, yet they are clothed in royalty. In the midst of my harried and overwhelming week, he is taking care of me. In my own little corner of the world, he leads me beside quiet waters…even if just for a moment.

Bibles, Boobs, and Beauty

There is an article floating around social media that truly grieves my heart. Part of me was very hesitant to even link the article in my blog, but the other part of me figures there’s a good chance you’ve already seen it. While I don’t particularly want to give that website any more traffic, I believe a discussion is in order.

The author pits two teenage girls against one another in an effort to “prove” that one is better than the other. One teen girl comes from a Christian family, the other does not. Let’s strip away the fact that these teenagers are reality stars with big families, big money, and big followings. We’re left with countless people tearing one girl down in the name of Christianity. Sadie is inspirational. Kylie is promiscuous. (Not my words, mind you.) The fact that so many Christians are liking, sharing, praising, and justifying this article shows the rest of the world a picture of Jesus that I do not recognize.

Here’s the thing. Kylie Jenner is created in the image and likeness of God. He wrote eternity on her heart, too. She is fearfully and wonderfully made. His grace is sufficient for her. Christ laid down his life for her. She is entitled to the throne of grace; she has an invitation to be a daughter of the King.

We are all products of our environment. It’s safe to say that Sadie’s parents and Kylie’s parents have different priorities and belief systems. The easy thing to do is compare ourselves, our daughters, our sisters, and every teenage girl we pass in the mall to Sadie and Kylie. If we look more like Sadie than Kylie, we must be doing a good job. If your daughter dresses like Sadie instead of Kylie, then you’re doing a good job as a parent. If only it were that simple.

Not only is that mindset damaging and discouraging, it isn’t biblical. Christ is our standard. He marches under a banner of love, grace, and acceptance. Compare yourself to him — how do you measure? I know I fall short. Daily.

Let’s imagine, for a moment, that your own Sadie-esque daughter grows up to make some Kylie-esque decisions. Would you love her any less? God wouldn’t. Comparison and judgment leads to complacency and a false sense of security.

Growing up, I was Sadie. I was the pastor’s daughter. Then life happened. There were several years that I looked more Kardashian than Christian. I was judged and labeled by Christians who formerly loved and supported me. American Christianity prizes good reputations over Christ-like relationships — I’ve experienced that harsh reality firsthand.

Rather than judge, criticize, and label, look at Kylie through the eyes of Christ. Utilize the lens of love. Rather than publicly demean her, pray that she finds unconditional love, grace, and true acceptance. Rather than placing Sadie on a pedestal, pray that God continues to guard her heart in the midst of a very public lifestyle.

May you see the heart that God created, rather than the painted veils we often hide behind.

The Lifeguard and the Buoy

I have known loss. I have seen tragedy, raw and messy. I have watched a mother bury her son; mourned with daughters over the loss of their father; wept bitterly with parents who buried their teenage daughter; stood incredulously at the door of a former colleague who just couldn’t continue. I have seen loved ones swept away by unseen floods. The swells swallowed them whole before anyone saw a ripple on the horizon.

Precious lives stolen away by overwhelming forces. Helpless families torn apart by decisions out of their control. Permanent solutions to temporary problems. One bad decision on one very bad day.

As I carry the knowledge of this deep pain and loss, I am forever changed. When I see ripples of despair, I take note. Minor blips on the radar can no longer be ignored after witnessing the unimaginable outcome.

When a lifeguard sees a struggling swimmer, he cannot ignore their plight. Even if the strained seafarer does not call out for help, the lifeguard will still stand vigilant. Based on his training, knowledge, and experience, he will act. In some situations he tosses a buoy line, which may be enough to aid an ailing sailor. In other situations, he jumps in to rescue the weary soul.

Cries for help come in a myriad of methods and means. Some are silent, virtually unseen. Others are vented bursts of steam — perhaps prolonged, perhaps intermittent…usually consistent.

When someone slips into a stream of sorrow, encouraging words may serve as buoy lines to help them gain their footing and find healthy perspective. However, there are times when those buoys aren’t enough. The line is too short; the current too strong. When someone is in danger of drowning in an ocean of despair, it often takes a lifeguard to jump in and utilize their training. I know there are times when my best efforts and best intentions just won’t cut it. The wound is bigger than whatever bandages are in my kit.

During those emotional triage moments, when my best efforts of love and encouragement fail, tough calls must be made. Do I keep affixing Band-Aids to an arterial wound, hoping for the best? There comes a time to admit that my training falls short. I can’t attempt to practice out of my scope. I must rely on fully trained and professionally qualified experts.

In moments of my own despair and anguish, do I settle for trite words of encouragement? Or do I dig deep into scripture and plant my knees in prayer? When my best efforts fail — and they often do — I must relinquish any façade of control and rely on the One who calms the storms. Whether I sink or swim is not mine to fear. I have only one option: Rest in the arms of the One who commands the waves.