Favorite Activity: Checking the garden to see if anything new is growing.

Favorite Song: It’s Amazing, by Jem

Favorite TV Show: Big Bang Theory

Favorite Hot Beverage: French Vanilla Cafe

Favorite Cold Beverage:Freshly made iced tea

Favorite Homeschool Subject: Grid Perplexors, by Mindware

Favorite Scent: Baking bread

What are your current favorites?

Judging from what comes out of my mouth, you might not always see how black my heart can be. I’m usually pretty good at controlling my tongue. Especially in front of those who do not see me on a daily basis. So you might expect that my heart is much the same. Disciplined, thoughtful. But you would be wrong.

The truth is, I’ve worked to tame my tongue, but at the cost of my heart. It wasn’t intentional. I thought I was doing the right thing.

I’ve held my tongue and smiled at the person whose attitude I didn’t like or whose personality grates against mine.
I’ve held my tongue and remained silent to the person whose words hurt and wounded.
I’ve held my tongue while lashing internal judgment upon myself.

I’ve held my tongue, but released the negativity inward. I’ve allowed my heart to hear the abuse I know better than to speak aloud. I’ve judged, condemned and abused myself and others in verbal attacks that only my heart has heard.

And so my heart has been poisoned again and again.

But that kind of poison does slip back out.

It slips out in my emotional outburst to my undeserving husband.
It slips out in my frustration with my children.
It slips out in the shape of my insecurities and fears.
It may even slip out in the disguise of pain and fatigue.

And yes, my heart is not all black. I know that. God has shaped and transformed so much of my life, my heart, my attitude. I am so grateful for the that, and I acknowledge His power over and through me.

But I am realizing how much damage I can do when I internalize negativity. I’ve felt justified in doing so because I was controlling my tongue. But the point of this verse is not to control the tongue first, but the heart first. When the heart is clean and pure, then the tongue will be too.

So, I’m choosing to accept the pain and hard work that will come as I allow God to clean up the poison in my heart. Practicing gratitude is helpful, but not enough. It’s time to start changing the internal dialogue as well.

171. For God’s mercy and grace, pouring over me, comforting, transforming.

Do you have times like that? Seasons where a faceless, shapeless thing hovers just out of reach. Undefined.

My days are lethargic, my nights listless. I’m hungering for Him, but my faith is dry and parched. And it’s all my fault. I’m not feeding my soul. I’m not engaging in relationship with God. I’m longing for spiritual intimacy, but not doing the work. Moments slip by and I choose to wait.

Later…

I want Him. I need Him. Why do I not choose Him?

I have the resources. I have the ability. I have the gift He gave.

He has provision and opportunities for me. For us. I want to see them, taste them, know them. But I still have to make the choice, daily, hourly, moment by moment to live in Him, to grow in Him, to talk to Him.

My heart and mind know it.

How are you today?

I’ve since realized we were not the first people to think of this concern. “What about socialization?” is quite easily the most common question I am asked when people realize that we are one of those crazy homeschooling families.

I used to feel defensive and immediately start justifying our life. I’d list the kids current activities and detail the extent of their friendships. Today, I might just tell you the truth: I’m fighting to un-socialize them.

Although even more honestly, that’s only half true. I am actively un-socializing my children. But I am also actively socializing them. Because socialization is one of those words that sounds concrete but is actually grey and slippery.

I cannot deny that my kids will never receive the same socialization as traditionally schooled children. They do not spend the majority of weekdays in a classroom with other kids their age. They are not being shaped to the same degree by peer pressure.

Only time will tell what kind of adults they become. Or whether they will achieve success. Of course, I’m hoping they won’t measure success by the same standard most of their peers will use.

I hope they won’t realize that they should be annoyed with the small child standing in their path, twirling, instead of smiling and patting the child’s head. Or that some kids aren’t worth playing with.

I hope when they are embarrassed by too much recognition that they won’t cave to peer pressure and apologize for exceeding expectations. Or try to be less than they are simply to fit in more easily.

I hope that as teenagers, they won’t be obsessed with boys/girls, but will have good friends representing both genders.

I don’t want them to ever believe that conversing with adults is boring, or that old people are too slow and out of touch.

I want them to understand that education is not just preparation for the workforce and that success is not defined by their possessions or the size of their paycheck.

My kids don’t have recesses every day, but I hope they’ll always enjoy playing games with kids around them while still enjoying the value of silence and curling up in a corner with a good book.

I hope they will grow into servant-leaders who allow their faith to shape their world view. I want them to always know that they are no better than anyone else. But they are meant for something better than what this materialistic, self-centered society throws at them.

What about socialization? They have plenty, thanks.

I don’t know what alternate reality she’s living in, but I like it.

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When Jonah does something funny, Abby has also started telling me, “Mom, whatever is wrong with your son, it’s no little thing.”

That was cuter the first fifteen times.

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When Jonah asks Scott something and gets one of Scott’s humorously exaggerated answers (i.e., when are you going to come tuck us into bed? When you’re 53!), Jonah will walk away doing an almost perfect impression of Santa’s laugh. “Ha, ha, ha. You’re so funny.”

He comes by it honestly.

~~~~~~~~

Jonah told Abby today that he’s going to start giving her the silent treatment every night at bedtime. He said this very matter-of-factly. Because otherwise, he said, she was going to go hoarse from talking so much.

For this book, though, I was wandering with Abby through the chapter books, looking for something she might enjoy reading that wasn’t beyond her comprehension or interest levels. She shrugged when I showed her Tumtum and Nutmeg. “Sure, Mom.”

Tumtum (because he has a rather large one) and Nutmeg (because her hair is the color of…) are the Mr. and Mrs. Nutmouse who live in the broom cupboard of Rose Cottage. They set out to help make life a bit better for the two children who live in Rose Cottage, until the children’s Aunt Ivy comes to visit. Aunt Ivy dislikes all animals, and when she spots two mice (wearing clothes!) the adventure escalates.

Tumtum and Nutmeg had Jonah, Abby and I hooked from the first sentence. Emily Bearn writes a fun and delightful story that is warm and engaging. I loved reading it to my kids and it quickly became one of those rare books that I protectively felt should only be read aloud by me — because I didn’t want to miss any of the book myself.

If you have not read Tumtum and Nutmeg (the first story in the three story set, Tumtum and Nutmeg, Adventures Beyond Nutmouse Hall) by Emily Bearn, whether child or adult, I highly recommend you do so.

I have no material connection with this book or author. It was simply a great find at the library.

162. spoons and knives dangling from plastic lines attached to an upside down metal sconce, my son’s creativity shining.

163. standing with my sweetie as we feel the rumble and hear the roar of crashing waves at high tide.

164. claiming a garden plot for the summer and meeting new friends, all at the same time.

165. cold earth around my fingers as weeds are removed and the ground is loosened, a small space to grow vegetables this summer.

166. discovering a nest of baby garden mice, hidden beneath the surface of the garden, an unexpected moment to discuss respect for life and nature with my children.

167. the never-ending enthusiasm of young ones for searching out sanddollars, clams and other sea life at the beach.

168. breakfast in bed, prepared by my son.

169. finally finding a packet of seeds that we have been searching for since last fall (lemon balm).

170. decorating bracelets and crocks with plastic flowers, glitter, ribbon, and my sweet daughter.

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Biscuits and Sausage Gravy

1 lb Jimmy Dean sausage (regular flavor)
1 stick salted butter
3-4 TBS flour
1 cup Half and Half
1-2 cups milk
Salt and Pepper, to taste
1 bag frozen buttermilk biscuits

Remove biscuits from bag and put in oven to cook, according to package directions.

In large skillet, brown sausage. Remove sausage from pan and set aside, but leave all drippings in pan.

Over medium heat, add butter to sausage drippings. When melted, add flour and whisk until all of melted butter has been absorbed by flour. Slowly add Half-and-Half, whisking well. Slowly add 1 cup of milk and whisk well. Bring gravy to a boil, still whisking, and allow to simmer for 1-2 minutes. If gravy thickens too much, add additional milk until desired consistency. Salt and pepper to taste.

Add sausage into gravy.

Serve over hot biscuits and enjoy!

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P.S. My sweetie would say that I have left out one crucial step: split biscuits in half, butter each side, then pour gravy over the biscuits.

152. my mother-in-law, who accepted me into the family when I married her son, gave me much help and advice when I became a new mom, and continues to make me laugh with her sense of humor.

153. my children, who have taught me more through motherhood than I could ever have guessed I needed to learn.

154. breakfast in bed.

155. construction paper cards filled with beautiful crayon pictures.

156. hearing my son read stories to his sister.

157. my daughter reading stories to me.

158. a delightful children’s book, being enjoyed by us all.

159. plants mustering new strength when I finally remember to water them.

160. yarn, a crochet hook, and a BBC adaptation of a Jane Austen novel.