Prone to Wander, Joyfully Return

Michaela started taking piano lessons at the age of five, when we lived in Kentucky. She did very well, and really enjoyed playing and learning. She seemed to have an ear for music, as well as the ability to read it. This was amazing to me; when I took lessons, I had to practice and practice and practice before I was able to play a piece well, and it never came easily for me, even after taking lessons for years. There are other very musically inclined members in the family, though. Mike plays at least three instruments (the piano/keyboard, the drums, and the guitar); my dad is quite the musician, a singer and a piano player; my brother has played the piano/keyboard for over half of his life, and been in a band for about that long. (In fact, one of the reasons I quit playing is because he was so good, naturally. What a ding dong.) (Me. Not him.)

So, music is definitely in her genes. The list goes on in my family, extending to grandparents and cousins and aunts.  

Toward the end of spring last year, Michaela stopped wanting to play. I don't know if it got harder all of a sudden, or if she just went through a bit of a rebellious phase (Whew! Glad that's over! Right?! Ha!), but she didn't enjoy it, and she complained about it, and even got teary about some of her pieces that she was given to play. It cost quite a pretty penny to take lessons, and we thought that she needed a break for a while if she was practicing and going to lessons so grudgingly. We stopped lessons for the summer, and did not pick them back up when school started. 

Around January of this year, she asked if she could take lessons again. She had been playing a little of her old music, some hymns and Christmas songs. She would sit down and play randomly; no one asked her to, she just wanted to. She asked about it periodically over the next seven months, and Mike and I thought,"Well, she hasn't let up about starting lessons again...maybe she is ready to commit." I told her that it was serious, and she was going to need to do just that: commit to practicing every day, and playing whatever her instructor gave her to play. Even if she didn't want to or thought it was hard. Part of the joy of mastering an instrument (or anything, I suppose) is that feeling of accomplishment when you get to the point where you overcome the difficulties, and keep moving forward (I say to myself, in life in general). 

I'm happy to say that she has diligently practiced every day, of her own volition, and cheerfully. She surprised her teacher with how well she was playing after her long hiatus. (And I'm sure that I have surprised her teacher by not forgetting one lesson so far, nor being late. I'm sure I shouldn't be too proud...the year is young.)

I am proud of Michaela, though. There isn't much better than watching your kids work through hard moments and make mature decisions. If there were something better, it might be listening to your child play one of your favorite hymns. 

Come, Thou Fount of every blessing,
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise.
Teach me some melodious sonnet,
Sung by flaming tongues above.
Praise the mount! I’m fixed upon it,
Mount of Thy redeeming love.

Sorrowing I shall be in spirit,
Till released from flesh and sin,
Yet from what I do inherit,
Here Thy praises I’ll begin;
Here I raise my Ebenezer;
Here by Thy great help I’ve come;
And I hope, by Thy good pleasure,
Safely to arrive at home.

Jesus sought me when a stranger,
Wandering from the fold of God;
He, to rescue me from danger,
Interposed His precious blood;
How His kindness yet pursues me
Mortal tongue can never tell,
Clothed in flesh, till death shall loose me
I cannot proclaim it well.

O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I’m constrained to be!
Let Thy goodness, like a fetter,
Bind my wandering heart to Thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here’s my heart, O take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above.

O that day when freed from sinning,
I shall see Thy lovely face;
Clothed then in blood washed linen
How I’ll sing Thy sovereign grace;
Come, my Lord, no longer tarry,
Take my ransomed soul away;
Send thine angels now to carry
Me to realms of endless day.

Then and Now

Now and then I look back, and I compare then and now...

2009

2012

There are, of course, many things that change; other things never do. Each is good in its own way...

Force Out

When there is a runner on first and the batter hits the ball, and the defense can get to the ball and get it to second before the first baserunner arrives, the defensive player can tag the base and get an out. That is called a force out. 

I am going to talk about a different kind of force out. Clearly, I am just always looking for an excuse to talk about baseball. 

I am going to force out thankfulness. I have had a few sad days. I do not know why. There is no logical reason, and if anyone were looking at me from the outside, they would not notice any thing that would make them think,"No wonder she is so down!"

Maybe if they looked in my windows, though. They might think then,"Oh my wow! Who let off some bombs in her house, poor dear?!" 

But really, I should not be sad. Christian is doing well in school. Michaela and Eliana are off to a decent start too, and are very excited about their weekly program. I feel fairly organized as far as homeschool stuff goes (there are a couple of loose ends, but hopefully they will be tied up very soon). 

Part of my sadness is loneliness. I am missing some ladies that are gone now. I wrote about our friends who moved back to Africa a year and a half ago (we met them as Christian's second grade year started, and the mom and I really clicked). Then another family left this past spring, and I miss that mom too. We were not best friends, and in fact, I was very sad for the woman who was her best friend here, because I knew how painful their parting was. But this friend was someone I ran into periodically, had pretty meaningful conversations with, and just liked to be around. 

You know what? I feel like all the friends here are already taken. The ladies I know already have really good friends. They already have the girls that they call to go out for Mom's Night, or have mid-day fun meetings with. I know I sound all Let's Have a Pity Party! I don't mean to sound like that! I just often wonder if there is someone out there (but nearby!) with whom I could have fun, laugh, cry, shop, share recipes, and go to the park. 

Blah! 

Okay. So...the thankfulness! I am sososososososososososososososososo thankful that I have a dishwasher that has wheels that are (partially) (and much more than they used to be) functional. Not too long ago, I almost took a picture of the lower drawer as it hung off one side of the open door, looking like a failed attempt to put itself out of its misery. And trust me, I wanted to get a shotgun and finish the job. The drawer had only four wheels on it, and they never stayed on all at the same time. Picture this: 

I get four wheels on. I set the drawer gingerly on the track, half in the machine, half out. It's a balancing act. If I put too heavy an item in the drawer, it slips to one side, much like an obstreperous toilet seat that needs tightening, surprising its sitter with an impudently unnecessary side trip. Fortunately I'm not sitting in the dishwasher drawer. However, when it slips, one wheel falls off. I pick up that wheel and get it back on, and carefully place the drawer back on the open door. But not carefully enough! The drawer shoots the other way, and two wheels fall off! The wheel I just put on is now caddywanked, twisted up under the tiny rod that it slips onto. Only one wheel is behaving at the moment. I feel as though I'm headed for the fifth circle of Hell. Or maybe the seventh. I hear the dishwasher taunt me,"Abandon all hope, ye who enter here..."
I groan as I lift the dishwasher drawer up so that I can get the unruly wheels (Two wheels! That I had to finnagle between the open door and the cabinet it butts up against! Madness!) back on that side. I am now sweating. This will count towards my cardio for the day, surely; it must! I set the drawer back on the track warily, painstakingly, cautiously. I realize I am not breathing. I take a breath, reticently, lest I myself cause the drawer to malalign. I place the drawer a little further in than it was before, with the hope that it will not be able to slide off to the side anymore. I continue to load. The wheel that is closest to me slips under the drawer one more time! Now it is heavier to lift in order to twist the wheel out and up.
I am very close to cursing out loud. In fact, I may have already done it.
I remove the wheel altogether and think about throwing it across the room so that it smashes through the window. I refrain.
I slowly and very determinedly slip the wheel back onto its small rod. I ask the Lord to please help this dishwasher wheel to stay put, and also to give me patience. I get the rest of the dishes into the dishwasher and calmly, gently, guardedly shimmy the drawer into its proper place for the washing cycle. I wipe the sweat from my brow with my forearm.
The dishwasher has been loaded.

And that was the short version. That scene could have gone on for twenty minutes. I actually broke a couple of dishes once because I ran out of patience a wee bit early and slammed the dishwasher door shut while the drawer was still out. Oops.

However! Mike found some clips online (Oh, the wonderful things one can find on the Internet!) that attached through the wheels and onto those tiny rods on the drawer. The wheels will be hard-pressed to escape now! Although I know they will try! Insolent roundlings with their unmitigated audacity and depravity! And, oh, the delight and absolute giddiness I feel when I can rest assured knowing that the drawer will not slip this way or that, clanging and banging and making like a runaway roller coaster car! No more threatening to smash my ankles! I can't tell you how grateful I am for a simple thing like a wheel that works!

Four, to be exact. 

So, in the midst of my sadness, I am forcing out a thankful attitude, because there are many things to be thankful for. And even though I don't have a gal to call and tell this story to one afternoon, I had fun telling the story to a few of my friends this way. What are you thankful for as we head into fall?

A School Poem

School supplies do here abound,
Leaving very little spaces
For walking round or sitting down,
But soon they'll find their proper places.

Pencils, markers, stripey binders!
History books as big as Texas!

We searched and became top-notch finders;
Now flowers will house any nexus.  

Notebooks wait to be crammed full
Of history, science, written words
And all connections we can cull,
Until we are official nerds. 

We'll read and write and read some more;
Study science, math, and art!
Just like Columbus, we'll explore
Ancients to Rene Descartes. 

 

Of one thing I am confident:
Our heads will be quite full of knowledge!
Maybe to the great extent
That we will soon be set for college!

(Or at least seventh grade.)

Call Me Bookish (Or Rather Book-ish)

An alternate title to this post could be "Bookends". As in, can I get to the end of a book? (Please read like Chandler from "Friends", heavy emphasis on the word "get".)

If I had finished reading all of the books that I have started in the last four years, my list would be quite impressive. My goal this school year (and in light of my reading accomplishment history, it is a lofty goal, indeed) is to read most of what Michaela is reading as we go through Ancient History, as well as to go back and start the books over that I have picked up and put down and failed to pick up again (as interested as I may have been in what was to come in the pages that follow my stopping point). 

Here are some of the titles (the grown-up books...not the ones that Michaela will also read) (except the Bible...hopefully she will read the Bible!):

How God Became King
How to Read a Book
Good News About Injustice
Recovering the Lost Tools of Learning
The Healing Path
Reordered Love, Reordered Lives
The Bible (okay, this one should probably be first) (I didn't add a link...I figure you likely know about the Bible)

There are others. I would like to read some C.S. Lewis (as much as I want to read The Chronicles of Narnia again [and again]), I would really like to delve into some of his other writing as well.

This will be quite a project, but one I am looking forward to with great anticipation. As a girl, I was a reading fiend. I could not read enough. I miss that! I also want the kids to see me with books in my hands. Once Christian walked in on me reading a book in the middle of the day; he stopped in his tracks and said incredulously,"What are you doing?!" After hearing my response ("Reading a book!), he replied,"Oh...you never do that."

How sad!

I'm hoping to change that impression!

What are some good books that you have read, heavy or light reading...there are some works of fiction I'd like to get my hands on, too!