Shame & Vulnerability

Aren't they serene? I have wished often for quietness of mind, and there's much behind this that I've discovered over the past few years. Currently, I'm wrestling through Curt Thompson's The Soul of Shame. This book is for everyone, since we are all sinners who deal daily with the effects of shame. Most people have no idea of the role that shame has played in our personal disintegration. 

As the Lord uproots this painful shame, I'm drawn to the call to be vulnerable with others and with Christ, rather than allowing certain situations to cause mental paralysis, or "stasis," as Thompson calls it. I've felt this often, the state of almost complete mental breakdown or fog when I feel shame. Just today an incident occurred that required my vulnerability with God, and I feel that it can be further brought into the light by sharing it with you.

One thing to note: It's true that "shameful" incidents aren't necessarily what the world would see as a big deal, or something that seems overly traumatic. The enemy is crafty in setting up years and decades of subtle shaming tactics. 

Because our move put us farther from our beloved Missio Dei Church, our family decided to start the process of finding a church closer to where we now live. As community is vital to vulnerability, we long to be close to our church, able to attend regular functions. We've been attending a church that we really like, and were there today. At the end of the service, my family exited ahead of me. I knew we needed to get home to have lunch and change before an outing the kids were taking, but stayed behind chatting with some kind ladies who had introduced themselves.

When I eventually turned to leave, I noticed that the line out the door was long; the pastor sits at the doorway and shakes everyone's hand as they exit. I realized it would take a while to reach the door if I stood at the end of the line, so I went to the side, bypassing the line. I saw a side door and considered going out of it, but being new, I feared ending up somewhere I didn't want to be, since we still don't know our way around the building. I decided the easiest move was to slip behind the pastor at the door, but this required me to also go past everyone in the line. 

When I reached the doorway I saw a dear acquaintance there with her kids, to whom I said a few words, and I also excused myself for going through the people. For a split second, I turned and faced the people in line, many of whom seemed to be looking at me. I caught a glimpse of Mrs. C--'s sweet, kind face. Suddenly, I had a horrible feeling: I looked like I was breaking in line to see the pastor, rather than simply slipping past the people and out the door to find my family! And just when I attempted to tiptoe behind him, he turned directly to me, and addressed me by name! I wanted to pass out from the shame of seemingly cutting in front of that whole line. Just when I thought I'd squeeze past everyone, Pastor M. looked me squarely in the face!

All I could think was, We're new, and those people will now recognize me as the Lady Who Cuts in Line! I felt sick, wondering why I hadn't gone through that blasted side door. I worried all the way home, feeling the crippling shame described by Dr. Thompson in his book. I knew God was inviting me to walk into this feeling with Him, to have a discussion about what's really happening in my heart. 

This seems to be how healing happens. When I recognize this feeling of shame, I must walk into it with Christ and others rather than suffocating in it alone. I sat by the archway in my new back yard in the sun, looking at the blue sky, green grass, and colorful flowers, and had a transparent talk with Jesus. I told him I worry about being like others who I've seen push their way to the front. I felt like I did twenty years ago when I did just that, and a lady called me on it. I felt like the whole church would now see me as the Lady Who Cuts In and is Inconsiderate (picture that in neon lights). I kept seeing Mrs. C--'s kind face, and Pastor M's, full of grace and understanding, entirely void of condemnation. 

I moved to the bench on my front porch and dared to ask God again to erase the incident (which I describe in detail in another post, God Erases), which led to more discussion. Do I hesitate to believe and receive this because it seems unbelievable? Aren't God's ways indeed infinitely past understanding? Do I feel like asking Him to (again) "erase" it is one time too many, and a copout to boot? If I know that He delights to give me bread and not a serpent, and that He is able to do exceedingly and abundantly above all that I think or ask, why do I hesitate to believe He'll "erase" again and again? Christ talked to His disciples about believing they'd receive, about not having because they didn't ask, and about how it delights the Father to give good gifts to His children.

What I'm writing in this blog is a transcript of a lot that I wrote in my journal. In the journaling part of this process, I was reminded about my friend Pastor Jim's comment to me a while back, that I was "overthinking" another certain situation. Perhaps that's the case here, too; maybe none of those people thought a thing of it. I probably wouldn't have, and if someone else told me this, I may even think it was funny, like something that would happen to Ben Stiller. But to me, who I believe I am is very real. When something bumps up against a shameful spot in my heart, I now want to get to the bottom of it, and stop being in bondage. 

I believe the devil has worked hard to convince me that I have no sense, no social skills, that I'm uncouth and uncultivated. The Lord whispers to me that my deep concern shows the opposite. He and I continued this discussion over ninety minutes. He's teaching me many things, leading me into freedom. I feel like I have to be put in certain situations in order to face my shame and move toward healing it. The very thing I don't want to feel is precisely what I have to face with vulnerability. And by the way...this goes for all of us.

From the mouth of My Savior:

"Ask, and you will receive, that your joy may be full." John 16:24

"If you ask anything in My name, I will do it." John 14:14

"...whatever things you ask when you pray, believe that you receive them, and you will have them." Mark 11:24

My soul is panting for Him, as the deer pants for water. May it always be so! 

Until next time...

God's Protection

I don't want to write a post about a man following my girls and me out of the library, but I feel a duty. You may be as oblivious as I was. I thought I always noticed people around us. I sometimes felt too cognizant of a loner in the park, or a strange-looking character in the store. It didn't occur to me that someone might follow us once we'd gotten into our vehicle. Thanks to a plain clothes policeman sent by the Lord, we escaped harm. I want you and your children to be safe as well.

We were in the library last week, about to leave, and were looking at a shelf of sale books right beside the entrance/exit. There's a big table beside this shelf where a policeman is usually stationed. We were almost through perusing when a man came in and stood to our left, presumably also looking at the books. I noticed he was odd-looking, with almost feminine facial features, as if wearing black eye-liner. His head was covered with a navy bandana, with black curls coming out underneath. He wore khaki shorts and some kind of sandals. His build was muscular, with hairy legs. 

Why did I notice all of this in just a few seconds? Probably because God wanted me to, and also because this guy was so noticeably different looking. Anyway, I moved my girls over, we looked maybe fifteen more seconds, then we left.

Evidently, so did he...right behind us.

I only know this because of the policeman who had indeed been at the table, but his plain clothes made him inconspicuous. As I was backing out of my parking space, he was standing by my window, beckoning. Only then did I notice the handcuffs and badge at his waist. He asked me to stay put for a minute, and asked if I had noticed the "weirdo" beside us at the bookshelf. "He acted like he was looking at the books," the cop said, "but, trust me, he was not looking at the books." A chill went through me, and I wanted to get sick.

Apparently, this policeman was at the table watching, and no one noticed him because he was sitting down in regular clothes, so his waist with his gear was hidden. He saw the man follow us out, and hightail it to his own car, which was parked in a different lot, across the street. We had parked behind the building. The cop said it seemed like the man was planning to follow me, so he wanted me to wait a few minutes. If I still noticed him, I was instructed to drive straight to the police station.

I talked to this officer for probably three or four minutes. He had been so busy chasing me down and giving me this information, that we didn't notice if the man left his parking lot. Supposedly he was in a blue Honda hatchback. Thankfully, he did not follow us home, and we actually had a sheriff behind us most of the way! I drove home in a daze, not knowing how to process the event, and being shocked that I hadn't even considered noticing if I were being followed. I think that if the cop hadn't informed me, even if I'd noticed the man, I might just have thought, "I think that's the guy from the library behind us." As scary as it is, I'm very glad to have this awareness now!

I'm looking into family self-defense with a local lady I know. I also started carrying my pepper spray again. Why did I think I didn't need it? Over the days that followed, I had many dark thoughts of what could've been. The devil attacked me hard. I recalled several moments past that could've ended badly, and took my feelings of condemnation to the Lord. Isn't that what Satan does, especially at night? He brings up the "what ifs," what "could've" happened, and how "negligent" and "stupid" I was. God has been allowing me to process this, and working on my heart regarding regrets and how I handled things I wish I could've done differently. On top of that, there was the lingering fear.

What if we were somewhere else, and saw this guy again? What if someone else tries to follow us? What if, what if, what if. I could drive myself insane falling into the enemy's fear traps. Ephesians 5:11 says, "Have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather expose them." This is something to pray about daily. In writing this post and in talking to my friends, I am exposing the ugliness of darkness.

I have also done some serious praying about our protection, that the Lord would outfit us with what I term "beefy angel-bodyguards" to go everywhere with us. I felt peace about God's provision, as His Word clearly states that He places angels to guard us in all our ways. 

So guess what happened yesterday? I saw him again.

Yes, only nine days after the incident, I saw the guy again. I had just prayed before walking into the place; I asked the Lord, "Please don't let me see the man with the bandana here." Ironically, it was at another library event, although in a different building. I was alone this time, at the library's half-price book sale, and was just finishing looking around after having been there at least an hour. I don't go into the cd/dvd room, but as I passed by it, I glanced in...and there he was, standing in the little room, head bent, looking at some media that was in his hands. The bent head was covered with the same navy bandana, with the same black curls emerging, and he wore the same khaki shorts, and same sandals.

I seriously couldn't believe it. My first instinct was to flee past, which I did. I was shocked, and my heartbeat increased ten-fold in a matter of seconds. I stood with my back to where he would come out (if he left the dvd room), and pretended to look at some books (oh, the irony!) as I pulled myself together, tried to breathe, and said some prayer, although I have no idea what I said. I texted my husband, who responded "Get out of there," which I did. As I made my way through the payment lines, I kept my face firmly forward, as I didn't want him to see me. I had no idea if the guy could be behind me, although I feared he was. The ladies at the table wanted to chitchat, and I was practically shaking...I wondered what they would say if I blurted out, "I have to get out of here! A-bandana-guy-who-creeped-me-out-and-who-I-hoped-never-to-see-again-is-within-yards-of-me-and-I'm-gonna-pass-out-if-I-can't-get-outta-here!"

I grabbed the mace out of my purse, held it firmly along with my box of books, and made it to my van, which was thankfully parked close to the door. I checked to see if he was in the parking lot, and he wasn't. No one followed me out, and I made a second trip home in a daze, not knowing what to think or how to process seeing this person for the second time in nine days. 

"Lord," I said, "I have to admit I'm baffled. I confess I don't understand, when I had just prayed not to see that guy here, why I would see him here!" I knew God had some purpose, as He always does. I told Him I knew he was always teaching me something, but I just didn't get it. Not that I had to, but I knew that the Lord was happy to engage me in a dialogue nonetheless.

A different sort of question suddenly popped into my head: "Aren't you glad you did see him?" Well, yes, I was. And certainly glad that he didn't see me! And even more grateful that in the long time I was at the sale, not once did that man appear down an aisle where I had been. I can only imagine if I'd looked over and seen him standing beside me again, "looking" at books. I'm pretty certain I'd have passed out.

When I got home and had bent my husband's ear awhile, yet another nudge came to me: "Remember the beefy angel-bodyguards?" And it was a warm nudge, with a loving embrace from God. 

What do I make of all of this? I can't fully say. It was an unsettling evening, with more enemy attack. However, the love, protection, and sovereignty of God have overarched the whole situation. Jesus Christ is "Far above all principality and power and might and dominion, and every name that is named, not only in this age, but also in that which is to come. And He put all things under His feet..." (Ephesians 1:21-22). I read this aloud, thanking God for His might, and asking Him to make me strong in it (Ephesians 6:10). 

The Lord reminds me that, in none of the potentially dangerous situations that have happened over my life, have I been in control of the outcome. In fact, it is because of Him that they have ended well! I feel Him showing me His great love and protection, making me aware of His care for us. I was reminded today of the passage in Luke 11:11-13 where Jesus says, "If a son asks for bread from any father among you, will he give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will he give him a serpent instead of a fish? Or if he asks for an egg, will he offer him a scorpion? If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask Him!" Matthew's account in 6:11 says, "How much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask Him!"

I feel the Lord's love in that He understands that I want "good things" for us. He is reminding me that He wants this, too, even more than I do ("How much more will your Father in heaven...?"). He is speaking to me about the fact that he gives bread, fish, and eggs, not stones, serpents, and scorpions. He gives "beefy angel-bodyguards" if we ask! It can feel scary and terrible, but our Father in heaven always knows what's good for us, even if it doesn't make complete earthly sense. I will trust and grow in Him, forgetting not all his benefits (Psalm 103:2)...and still carry my mace. I hope you will do the same!

Forgiveness & Evangelism

These are two of many areas that stretch my faith greatly: forgiveness and evangelism. Forgiveness, meaning my understanding that through Christ, I'm forgiven; evangelism, as in how wimpy I can be when I don't allow God's help in telling others about Him.

I've come to depend on Psalm 103. The area around it in my Bible is crinkled with tear stains. I feel like I'm often on these pages because of my desperate plea to God to help me understand that I'm forgiven. Verse 3 clearly states that the Lord "...forgives all your iniquities," yet my heart doesn't truly believe this applies to me. When I admit it out loud, it sounds ridiculous: Christ's blood is able to cover all the sins of the world...except for mine. Not only is it a preposterous lie, it's prideful. I'm not above the God of the universe's healing.

Satan knows that I buy into taunts of my being unforgivable, that I brood over and revisit past transgressions time and again. The Holy Spirit is working on my heart greatly in this area. I hear the enemy voice jeering, "How could you? What kind of mother/wife/friend/Christian are you?" and I choose to fall into his trap rather than believing God. Why is it so hard?? Because strongholds can be grueling and time consuming to break, and because we don't always trust that God is for our good in the trial. I continue to go before the Lord and ask Him to "unite my heart to fear His name" (Psalm 86:11), and to keep me from being the one in James 1:8, a "double-minded man, unstable in all his ways."

John Piper says that we usually make a mistake in thinking we need to "forgive ourselves." Most of the time, it's another person against whom we've sinned, and that is the one from whom we must ask forgiveness. Once we go before that person, and also confess our transgression to God in repentance, that's it! I have a hard time "letting myself off the hook," though...as if I were on my own hook, anyway. Aren't I on God's? And if that's true, doesn't He get to be judge? Isn't He already the judge of the universe? 

I told a wise friend about a mistake I made, one that I keep coming back to in my mind. I told him I wished I could allow myself to be human and make mistakes. He answered that I had usurped God's role as judge, marking myself because of one mistake. If mine are the only mistakes God can't fix, my friend says, "then He doesn't get to be God." 

Yesterday I told my girls a piece of information I later wished I'd kept to myself. I went to them and confessed that I was wrong to say what I did, that it was gossip. I reminded them that we never arrive at a moment when we're not growing and asking for forgiveness, and I asked for theirs in not setting a good example. Immediately they started patting my head and face, cut off my speech, and both said, "It's ok, Mom! We love you!" I knew in this moment that this is how our Father responds when we go to Him with our sin. He doesn't say, "Hmmm...let me think about it, and I might forgive you," or, "I can't forgive you yet, but maybe when you reform a little more." No! He's quick to love us, to say that "As far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our transgressions from us" (Psalm 103:12). "As a father pities his children, so the Lord pities those who fear Him" (103:13). 

Evangelism is another area where the Lord is nudging me to grow. I live in a country where I can worship and proclaim Christ freely, yet I often shrink in terror when I feel a prod to say something about Him. It seems absurd that people in the Middle East are jailed and beheaded for being Christians, while I sit here, afraid to broach the subject with people of peace! 

My husband and I have a custom: when we dine out, we always ask our waiter/waitress if we can pray for him/her when we ask our blessing. Most of the time this is received well, and people will share their stories with us. Last week, my husband felt such a burden for our waitress that he gave her his card and asked her to get in touch with us if she needed anything. Her sad eyes stayed in our hearts long after that meal. Pray for Kaylee, please.

Sometimes our asking is answered with, "No, I'm fine," and one waitress even once said, "Pray for those who need it." That was an interesting response, especially since our pastor was at the table with us! Those are the folks who need it the most. Never have we had a contentious response in the years we've been doing this.

Asking a waiter has become easier over the years, although I confess that sometimes I still feel strange doing it. Why should it take such courage to initiate a spiritual conversation? Am I afraid the waiter will spit in our food, or worse...think we're weird?? Maybe we should aspire to be "weird" by the world's standards. Allowing this to come naturally takes time, like I mentioned before. Gaining boldness in any area is "deliciously harrowing."

With a waiter, it's one thing; that person's job is to serve, and they are trying to make money...I chuckle thinking he/she is a captive audience. However, here's another scenario: I'm having a conversation with someone (the parent of my kid's friend, a tennis coach, a relative, a lifeguard at the pool, maybe even one of my kids' friends)...anyone who forms a part of my routine life. I get the "nudge" to speak about God...NOW??!! HOW??!! "Do I have to?!"

As I type this, I'm brokenhearted that these would be my reactions. Lord, move me from NOW?? to NOW!!!!! Help me in those moments to call on You for the "how." Let the question not be, "Do I have to?" but rather, "How can I not?" 

I will insert at this point that, speaking before of the devil, he likes to make me feel absolutely rotten when I miss an opportunity. He calls me a coward, tells me I must not love the Lord, asks me what kind of Christian I am, and blah, blah, blah. Condemnation does not come from the Holy Spirit (Romans 8:1), but what He does give us is the conviction that we missed an opportunity because we weren't relying on Him for help. Any dark thoughts about it are from the enemy; we can go to the Lord and say, "Lord, I knew I should've said something, but I froze. Forgive me for not calling on you for the words. Please give me another opportunity to tell someone about You, and make me bold for it." I prayed this several times when we started our "waitstaff ministry," when I knew I should ask but didn't. 

Today a little fella sat beside me and told me he was seven-years-old, and that he was going to Boston soon "on business." It seems the trip is so that his four-year-old brother can receive one of his mother's kidneys. I wanted badly to tell this chatty guy that Jesus cares about his brother, but all I said was that I would be praying for everything to go well. I felt silly thinking that I was scared to talk about my faith to a school-kid! Those are the ones who best understand the kingdom of God! I pray I will be ready for the next opportunity, and I'd love another chance to talk to this boy! God is weaving forgiveness and evangelism together to help me grow in the truth that mistakes on my part, if I confess and turn, don't put the "HOPELESS" or "DOOMED" stamp on me. Satan wants me to believe that I'm too despicable to even pray to God about it; after all, why would He want to hear me when I cowered over bringing up His name? 

When a lie like that comes up, the best thing to do is defy it, and pray!
Lord, thank You that all of life is repentance. As long as there's life, there's hope. I rebuke the enemy's attempts at condemnation, and praise You for loving me always. Your Son gave His life for my shortcomings, and as a sinner, I need You desperately every minute. Give me the courage to share this Good News with others. Forgive and change my unbelief, and continue to grow me in your truth. 

I have typed my prayers in green, which reminds me of new life, of fresh growth. Here is another one, straight from King David. May we not be afraid to pray this, and to ask God for courage as He answers:
"Search me, O God, and know my heart;
Try me, and know my anxieties;
And see if there is any wicked way in me,
And lead me in the way everlasting." Psalm 139:23-24

June

It's that time of year again, that time I used to commemorate with friends giggling half the night in sleeping bags. June is a happy time for me, with sun, short sleeves, my birthday, and the Stanley Cup...go, Pens! My favorite ways to celebrate my birthday now include simple things that I enjoy. Our culture might label me as boring, but I'm old enough to be okay with it. 

There's the annual espresso cake tradition, begun last year by my husband: 

This cake has come to be a symbol of June for me, as it lasts a long time, and I savor its aroma and flavor sometimes for breakfast, sometimes during the day, and lately I've even indulged myself in a slice at night over an episode of one of my old favorites, "My Three Sons." The cake has become a highlight of my birthday that lasts beyond that one day.

Another tradition is a visit from my mom, who we call "Gaby." This year, we decided to have a girls' afternoon (Gaby, my girls, Abue, and I) downtown. We ate Kilwin's ice cream in the rain, then hopped over to Mast General Store. Before we ventured out, Gaby, who shares my love of old books, had presented me with these: 

I had never heard of these Maida books, first published in 1910 (my editions are a bit newer!). Imagine my surprise when I opened one and saw this inscription: 

I don't have a Grandma and Grandpa Male, but the rest of it sure did fit! Gaby hadn't noticed it when she picked these up at the thrift store, so she had a surprise, too!

Speaking of thrift store shopping, this is a birthday tradition I enjoy on the actual day. Last year, my girls and I went together; what a treat that they're at the age that I can take them along on treasure-hunting adventures! This year, our pal Liz went along. There's no one more adept at bargains and thrift stores than Liz. She buys something at each place we visit! Here we are, about to embark on the journey: 

And here she is, with a fabulous find:

The girls were good sports. They were dragged around to look at stuff from other people's attics from 10am until 4pm, and survived! We hit a few places in town, including a huge antiques place that's going out of business. Look at this funny book I found for a dollar: 

In looking through this work from 1963, it occurred to me that my parents were the "Teen-Agers" mentioned in the title. Maybe I should let them read it! You may think, Does she actually read all these books she talks about, or is she just an old-book hoarder?! The answer is yes, and...um...well, I wouldn't exactly say, hoarder...! I find space where I can keep these works of literature neatly displayed and organized. Yes, I do read them, several at a time, in bits and pieces; I find time to read at the kitchen table over a sandwich, in bed at night, at my kids' tennis clinics, and outside in the sun after my housework is done. 

June is also a time for selling books at an annual homeschool book sale. This year was my second year (all of these traditions...cake, thrift stores, book sale, started last year!), and it's so much fun! My friend Eliza and I shared a table and attempted to get rid of some curriculum and books we no longer needed. Our motto was, "May we earn more than we spend," because sellers are able to shop at the sale before it opens to the public!

The crowd was thinner than last year, but I did make a little cash, found a few interesting finds, and had a great time seeing old and new friends. Aside from the pristine copy of d'Aulaire's Book of Greek Myths I got for a mere $2, this was my purchase of the day: 

"How much are your Hardy Boys?" I asked the couple. "Five dollars..." began the lady, "...for the box." To which I exclaimed, "The whole box?!" And she even threw in those two Charlie Browns, which one daughter has already read! My husband and girls have enjoyed reading several books from The Hardy Boys series together at night, and we've started a small collection. Miraculously, we only owned one of the volumes in this one: a much crisper copy of the one you see with no spine! Notice there's even an Authentic Detective Methods for Solving Mysteries. I'd never seen this, but I imagine it's rare. The girls and their dad can read Hardy Boys to their hearts' content!

There are two things unique to this June, different from last year:

Our fourth summer in this house, the hydrangeas finally burst into full bloom! I believe I wasn't cutting this bush down enough in the winter. I still didn't cut it completely, but did some, and this was the result! Our vases in the house are full of them. 

Also, I just had the privilege of finishing this study: 

The ladies in our community group have spent over ten weeks examining our hearts, tearing down strongholds, rebuking the enemy, sharpening each other, and growing in Christ. I highly recommend this powerful work by Beth Moore. Thank you, dear Amanda, for initiating this in our group, and to all the ladies who shared their hearts with me during this time.

Here's to June!

A Test

It's the time of our homeschool year that tests me the most: time for standardized testing. I've had it on my mind here and there since January, but have wrestled hard with it today. I write about it on here to clear my mind, but also to share my own struggles with the requirement. Others may not share my opinion. In fact, the more I open up about my frustration to others, the more I feel on an island. 

I barely remember testing as a kid, because those were the days when the teacher's year didn't have to be spent preparing students for tests. I don't recall being stressed out at all about the one test I think we took all year. It happened, we did our best, and that was that. 

In my state of North Carolina, the requirements for homeschoolers are to test children with a standardized test every school year once they turn seven. Most people think nothing of it. Neither did I, until I first had my child tested. She did fine...great, actually. I had felt fabulous about all we had accomplished, until the test administrator started pushing on me all the things we needed to do more of, how even though she scored well in certain areas, "you might want to try this...," or "Perhaps you might want to do even more of this..." and so on. Why wasn't her "good" good enough? 

The Charlotte Mason method of teaching is based on living books, rich ideas, lots of reading, and having students tell back (narrate) what they've learned. They are forming their own opinions about a wide feast of topics. Rather than learning dry facts and dates with no other connections, children spend the school year slowly digesting stories about historical figures and times, getting to know people in literature, or the ins and outs of nature, and working through their own ideas and takeaways. They also examine artwork and classical music, learning to identify the works of certain artists and composers. We spend daily time on cursive, and of course, do math every day.

I discovered my real frustration last year when I administered a traditional end-of-year standardized test: it was about as far from the Charlotte Mason method of teaching as it gets. Instead of asking my child to recall and describe what she remembers about Giotto's paintings, it's "Which of these words is spelled correctly?" and they look at ridiculous words that are misspelled. Rather than a robust, captivating paragraph from "King Arthur" to narrate, their understanding is assessed with a dry, uninteresting, textbook excerpt about apes, followed by questions so inane, I didn't even know the answers. 

Yes, I do realize that not everyone utilizes the Charlotte Mason method. However, there's no reason not to incorporate some life into these tests, or into education as a whole! All I could remember this morning was how much my girls, especially one who was slow to begin reading, dreaded testing last year. And I felt guilty; I had taught them one way, and assessed them in completely another. 

This brings me to why testing is indeed a "test," not just for my kids, but for me, especially for me. I feel backward and forward that homeschooling is what God wants me to do for my children, and I am convinced that the methods we employ are the best for us. There is an enemy lurking, who hates me, my kids, and all the good that we seek: "For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places." (Ephesians 6:12).

The devil wants nothing more than to crush every part of me and my kids. He has worked long and hard to set up strongholds that I, with the help of the Holy Spirit, and tearing down with even more vigor. One area that he especially attacks is my motherhood, and this includes my teaching. He had me disheartened last year over how ridiculous the testing seemed, how far from all we'd accomplished, as if my way of doing things is the wrong way. This has crept into my life again, and this morning I fell into a trap.

It took me a long time to find a math program that was best for us. I tried one, and the repetition and slowness drove me bonkers. Then I tried another, and the dryness and lack of new concepts drove me even more nuts. I finally found Horizons, and we love it. However, because it took a while, my girls are about half a grade behind in it. This hasn't bothered me in the least; I feel that they know what I did at their ages, and it was good enough. But see, in today's culture, how anyone did anything in the good old days just isn't good enough anymore. When I thought about the fact that there would be sections of math that one of my kids might not know on the test, I started panicking.

Shame on us for our one-size-fits-all, no-room-for-a-kid's-own-pace mindset! I feel very alone in this. I'm not the least bit worried now, while my kid is eight, about her getting into college. I do Charlotte Mason's methods and the girls thrive...then I have to administer a test that teachers all across America have spent all year preparing for. One huge reason for homeschooling is to be able to do things in our own time, as we see fit. If that means being a little behind in math, we will catch up. However, the devil didn't want me seeing this earlier today. He wanted me panicking, believing that I was a terrible teacher, that my girls are so far behind, one might not even be in the right grade! 

I fell into the trap of panic over nothing. My kids read like others their age (granted, they weren't reading chapter books in first grade, but they are now!), know the names of most flowers, plants, and birds in our yard, spell fairly well (surely on grade level), don't throw their math books across the room, know more countries on a globe than probably most adults, can recount tales of Kipling and poetry of Stevenson, can read and write cursive...no, I don't think being a few steps behind in math isn't anything we can't catch up on, especially working over the summer. The issue is that we work so hard, I've seen my kids come so far, and their learning is reduced to percentages and bubbles. 

One thing I guard against is letting my kids know my true frustration. I do feel the need to tell them, "This is a part of our requirements, something we simply have to do every year. Don't worry if you don't know some answers." However, being taught the way they are, they can't help but experience frustration themselves. Some moms have told me, "You take this way too seriously. Just get the results, and don't even open them." Others tell me, "You may not like it, but it's the way things are." I agree there is some validity to both, but where's the indignation from parents, of homeschooled and traditionally-schooled kids alike? Do you really think these are decent assessments? It's become the "norm" only because we go along with it, and think that people with letters behind their names know what's best for kids. Remember...money usually plays a part in anything.

That was a squirrel in the form of two cents...back to the trap I fell in. Suddenly, I had a revelation: Go back and see how your kids actually performed on math last year! Gee...why didn't I think of that before my morning of torment? I pulled myself out of the snare and found the scores.

Last year's 3rd grader:
Computation: 97% (percentile)
Concepts and Problems: 87%
Not too shabby....

Last year's 2nd grader, the one who I've worried about due to our being "behind" in math, because of how loudly she protested last year about how "hard!!!!" the test was:
Computation: 72%
Concepts & Problems: 81%
How about that? 

I share this because I want others to know how many homeschoolers feel: we hate the comparison game. I believe comparison is a tactic of darkness that creates many lies we carry into adulthood. That's why I dislike so much of what education has become, but doesn't need to be. I detest labeling a first grader who is slow to start reading and getting a specialist and psychologist involved. I had people tell me, "Have her tested," and "You need to make sure there's no disability." I'm sure there are students who legitimately need this, but I believe it's way fewer than we think. I knew the whole time that she just wasn't ready, and would do it when she was, but the implication of neglectfulness was made  because "you want to get to the bottom of serious learning issues." Half a year later, she's reading like a champ, as I knew she would sooner or later. The problem is, standardized tests just won't wait, and can't allow kids to take the time they need. Tests are based on how a child did in comparison to others...and who gets to decide what's the "norm"? If Sally can read a paragraph in three minutes but it takes Jennie twice as long, why does Sally get to be "smarter"? If Jake can do twenty times tables in forty seconds, but it takes Sam five minutes, does he not also know them? I think this is dangerous territory, and this is why this time of year gives me the shakes.

The bigger issue is what the enemy had me thinking, the things that were going through my head: "I haven't taught them well" (a lie), "They're not on grade level" (a lie), "I need to rethink a lot of things we do" (a lie). "The devil...does not stand in the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he speaks a lie, he speaks from his own resources, for he is a liar and the father of it." (John 8:44). Whenever I find myself drowning in these traps, I ask the Holy Spirit to bring me back to what's real and true, and to grow me through the experience. I do accept that we have to do testing, but I don't have to like it. I am grateful that North Carolina homeschoolers otherwise have much freedom. Yes, we do need some form of assessment, but I'd much rather create a portfolio, which is acceptable in many other states. 

Let the kids be kids! When did pre-algebra become the norm in third grade? Let them climb trees and make stick forts, let them enjoy poetry for it's own sake, and sing songs. Let little people go to kindergarten barely knowing their letters, and watch them learn to read by fourth grade anyway. Let them learn self-respect through good character and rich ideas, rather than self-esteem by how many facts they can regurgitate. As Charlotte Mason stated, The question is not how much a child knows, but how much does he care? We have replaced caring as well as knowing with...testing. Regardless of how my children perform, these tests as they are will always make me recoil.

I'll end with a heavy tribute to Mason from various selections of Susan Schaeffer Macaulay's For The Children's Sake: "A high standard was expected...It was not to be a race...'Good little Sally made only one mistake, she gets an A!' But poor struggling Johnny tried his best and is rewarded with a D. How can Johnny ever take a proper joy in the fact that he learned a new step?...How immoral to apply an arbitrary yardstick to the little child and expect him to progress at some 'normal' speed! We take from him the joy of accomplishing new skills which should be a part of growing up. We often combine frustrating skill-learning techniques with sawdust books...We are limited to three educational instruments--the atmosphere of the environment, the discipline of habit, and the presentation of living ideas. If education is to secure the step-by-step progress of the individual and the nation, it must mean something over and above the daily plodding at small tasks which goes by the name...If you think that the sick fear of not getting an A grade is a lofty means of motivating the child to excellence, I beg to differ...Let us help the child gain skills really well for his own sake, not because of what somebody else can or cannot do." 

Let them delight in the beauty of the first clematis of spring; 

that speaks volumes over the hundredth percentile.

Until next time...perhaps a lighter topic!

In memory of Victor J. Bablove

(1949-2017)

Apologies After Years

"Even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day." (2 Corinthians 4:16).

Are you thankful to not be who you once were? Boy, I am. I am not who I once was, nor am I yet who I will be a year or five from now. Part of my really coming to believe this has to do with what the Spirit laid on me some years back: the importance of asking for forgiveness.

As I thought back, times would come to mind of which I was not proud. It's a fact that we all have behaved badly and have regrets, but certain situations and people kept nagging at my mind. How terribly I had acted toward them; how I wished I hadn't done specific things!

"What, Lord? You want me to do...what?"

Yes, He wanted me to reach out and apologize...for things that had happened years and years ago. 

"Please, no! Lord, how am I supposed to confront people over things that happened so long ago? They'll think I'm nuts!"

Yet it wouldn't go away. You can guess what came next.

Before I go further, let me clarify a few things. First, although the incidents that were coming to mind were nothing earth-shattering by the world's standards, I was learning that by God's standards, I had sinned against a fellow image-bearer, regardless of how "small" it might seem. Also, the process of "making amends," as my Dad calls it, has shown me the truth that my sin is foremost against God: "Against You, You only, have I sinned, and done this evil in Your sight," David laments in Psalm 51:4. We must first go to the Lord and acknowledge how our sins hurt Him, repent, and praise Him for His forgiveness. The blood of His slaughtered Son covers all wrongdoing. 

So, why bother going to the one who was offended, if God forgives? Believe me, I kicked this up and down in my head awhile, aiming to avoid the discomfort of confronting my bad behavior in front of others. There is no way around it; being a Christ follower requires painful sanctification, and also obedience. If the Spirit kept bringing this up, I had no choice but to obey. I would discover the reason, which turns out to be the reason for everything we're supposed to do: it's all for the glory of Almighty God. 

Over the past four years or so, I have made amends in various ways: surprising someone via email with an apology about something I did or said, sending back an item that wasn't mine to its rightful owner, and even making outright phone calls to ask for forgiveness. As I contemplated writing this post, more apologies came to mind than I had remembered. The thing is, the first time I obeyed and did it, I thought, "Whew! Well, that's over; I survived!" Then guess what happened? It wasn't long after that another person came to mind...then another...and yet another. Dang it....oh, yeah...that narrow road thing again.

I don't write this to puff myself up. Trust me...nothing deflates a person like having to call someone on the phone and say, "Remember when we were in college and you were so nice to me and I was rude to you? By the grace of God, I'm not who I was then, and I want you to know I'm sorry and ask you to forgive me." And it doesn't get much easier with practice, either. My heart goes in my throat every time, whether I'm typing a note or dialing a number. I write this because I know my audience has pasts we'd all like to heal, amends we all need to make. I want to give you the courage to pray about whose forgiveness you should ask, too. 

A word of wisdom to those who are married: Share apologies to the opposite sex, no matter how "innocent," with your spouse. I have indeed gone to past boyfriends who I know I hurt deeply, and explained to them that I am now a Christ-follower asking their forgiveness. Be guarded against any traps the enemy wants to use for darkness, and pray to not be deceived. It is dangerous to secretly do this and then find yourself adding as a friend on Facebook someone you were involved with romantically in your past. Send an email, don't waste words, and then be done. Don't let Satan take what you mean for good and twist it into something contrary to God's design. 

Also keep in mind that the person might not receive you with warmth. You are acting in obedience anyway, and they are on God's hook, not yours. Again, you've done what you set out to do...now move on. 

One incident nagged at me for years. In 1997, I was a senior in college and found myself among a group of sophomore sorority sisters. I was cocky and felt so much wiser and adult-like. When one said I could hang out with them "..because you're one of us," I answered, "I don't want to be one of you." That hideous response stuck in my heart and wouldn't go away until about three years ago, when I messaged that girl, now a grown woman with kids, who I had not seen in about years. I explained what I remembered, word for word, not skipping the sting....then awaited a response. 

I expected her to say that she had been very hurt by it. I know I had become unpopular with her group of friends because of my superior attitude (actually, insecurity). Surprisingly, she said, "I don't remember that at all. I remember you as a very kind person." 

Again, why am I writing this? To say that in doing this thing with offering random apologies to whoever comes to mind, I have witnessed and received such grace, the kind the Lord wants to show me. He uses me to encourage others to go and ask for forgiveness, and He has used countless recipients of my apologies to demonstrate to me what true grace is. I have been blown away by some other responses:

"To tell you the truth, Bertie [my college nickname], I really don't recall it."

"You have nothing to ask my forgiveness for." (Yes, I did, but that person was gracious).

"What you're doing takes a hell of a lot of courage....I've never heard of anyone doing something like this."

"Of course I forgive you. I don't know what I'd do if Christ hadn't forgiven me."

"It's ok...and I'm sorry, too."

What if you can't reach the person (such as a deceased teacher), or you committed a wrong against society (like defacing property), and you still want to express your wrongdoing? God was there, and our sin is against Him. When there's no specific person with skin on, we have to take it to God and know that His forgiveness is enough. I once kept a CD belonging to someone, and he knew I had it, although I wickedly repeatedly denied it. For years I had it and even listened to it, uncaring. I have no idea where that guy is, and the CD was stolen back in 2000. R.M., if I find you, I owe you a Van Morrison CD. In the meantime, I will still seek you, and I thank God for forgiving me.

I found a tape that belonged to a nursery school where I worked, and couldn't stand to have it in the house one more minute. Sixteen years later, I put it in an envelope and mailed it back. Another person had given me money for a specific purpose, and I had taken it and spent it dishonestly. Ten years later, I put my own money into an envelope and mailed it to the individual's office. I included a note; all I wrote was, "Here's the money I owe you." 

Once I said something horribly insensitive and immature that hurt someone because of her sister's condition. It had not been my intention to sound so stupid, but once the comment was out, my foot was in. I remember trying to smooth it over, but the more I said, the worse I sounded. That was in 1994. Twenty years later, I messaged that lady, my former classmate, and told her I was sorry for things I had said that hurt her. I had to use the sensitivity I didn't have before, and this time I didn't mention the specifics. If she didn't remember, I didn't want to hurt her all over again. 

This is not an invitation to torture yourself into coming up with every terrible thing you've ever done. Let the Spirit gently and lovingly (as is His way) bring these to light slowly. You will know the right time and manner in which to seek forgiveness. Pray about what to say, and let the Lord give you the words. Once you've asked for forgiveness, thank God for the courage, and find freedom in it. He gets the glory; it's His victory, and you have the privilege in sharing in it. 

My prayer is that everyone who reads this will be bold enough to make amends. Go in the Holy Spirit's power, not your own. He makes us brave when we live according to Him. I shared this with a close friend, and that dear lady showed me just last week her email in making amends, and the beautiful response from the friend who, after many years, had forgiven her. 

Praise God, we're not who we once were, nor are we who we will be. 

Until next time!

Suffering in Obedience

Good grief, what a week. I'm experiencing the refining process of facing God's will, even though it goes against the way I would've chosen. Good thing One of us knows what He's doing. The other one has felt beaten up and battle-worn, but I'm being counted as one who can speak His Word with authority.

Here's a clip no one enjoys putting into reality: 

What is joy, really? Is it the warm, fuzzy feeling we'd refer to as "well-being"? I contend that, if we're on the narrow road of God's Way, "joy" doesn't feel like we want it to. In fact, for me right now, it's pretty darn harrowing. I am trusting the God of the universe Who tells me that these tears I sow will reap joy (Psalm 126:5). It's hard to live out being refined when many who call themselves Christians in America won't endure a minute's discomfort to truly grow in Christ.

The irony is that this actually is true "well-being." No wonder the narrow road is sparse. Tears, cotton-brain, and torment from Satan just aren't selling points for getting folks to sign up for this race. I'm willing to throw it out there and be deemed a "Debbie Downer" by those who don't get it. I believe more of us are suffering the trials of obedience than we realize; we just don't talk about it. What are you afraid of? God's finally brought me to a turning point in my life when I'm afraid not to be a bold voice for Him. There's courage on this road, too.

Chew on this quote from Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and dare to follow your own way:

"...within the fellowship of Christ's suffering, suffering is overcome by suffering, and becomes the way to communion with God." (From The Cost of Discipleship).

There's no two ways about it: either I obey, or I don't. My obedience looks like my trusting Him simply because He says so; "Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen" (Hebrews 11:1). A wise friend reminded me a few days ago that others might not realize the cost of our obedience. It is so hard to spend oneself and endure distress for things unseen, when anything else seems "better," and no one has any idea of the cost. I make this statement as one going through it now, still in the trial. 

I have got to keep my eyes focused on Christ, not on myself or my circumstance. He exhibited the ultimate obedience, perfect and unblemished, at a cost that spilled blood to cover the cost of my own suffering. How can I not hear him and do His bidding? Pastor Tim Keller tells a story of a woman in his congregation who, upon realizing the sacrifice that Christ gave for her, said, "If He gave his life for me, there's nothing He can't ask of me." I can't worry about the fact that I might not like it...Father knows best, and He sees past, present, and future. I love the Casting Crowns song that says, "To You the future is a memory." 

"Oh, the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are His judgments and His ways past finding out!" (Note that this was authored by a guy who was in chains, the same one who had sought out Christians to kill them: Romans 11:33, our brother Paul.)

If you've read this blog for any length of time, you know I'm against a fluffy, "Just let go and let God!" attitude. Pull up those rugs that are lumpy from all the issues swept under them! Pollyanna Christianity is not the way Jesus operated. His life was hard; he suffered greatly, being ridiculed for walking the narrow path. Even his own family members didn't get Him. He had no reason to leave the perfection of Heaven but to give us a model of how to share in His sufferings, and to cover all this mess with His healing blood. To "feather His hair" (as Matt Chandler says) with our platitudes and pseudo-reality is to stand in the crowd as one of His mockers. 

The Lord has to be my portion always (Lamentations 3:24). "Through the Lord's mercies we are not consumed" (Lam. 3:22). He has been preparing me for this through other difficulties, and although I don't enjoy it, it's a privilege to let Him lead. We all know Solomon's list in Ecclesiastes, plagiarized by the Byrds in their '60's song, "Turn, Turn, Turn"....there truly is "...a time to weep, and a time to laugh...a time of war, and a time of peace" (3:4, 8). 

I read a Martin Luther quote the other day that blew me away:

"Discipleship is not limited to what you can comprehend--it must transcend all comprehension. Plunge into the deep waters beyond your own comprehension...Bewilderment is the true comprehension. Not to know where you are going is true knowledge...Not the work which you choose, not the suffering you devise, but the road which is clean contrary to all that your choose or contrive or desire--that is the road you must take."

I surround myself with godly people. They hear my confessions and heart without judgment, not straying from the Word and reminding me of God's hard truth. I ask God to let me walk in light, not darkness, that I would know in my heart who He says I am, not who the devil wants me to think I am. I seek the testimonies of other sufferers, like the Apostle Paul, Bonhoeffer, Spurgeon, and Luther. I ask the Holy Spirit to help me hear Him, to allow me to focus on this moment and not the future. If I'm brain-dead at night, I allow "The Andy Griffith Show" to minister to me. Sometimes even I have to put my books on hold. 

I humbly ask for your prayers. God is always working, but seldom do I know what He's doing. It's not my job to figure it out, because He is unsearchable, and "His ways past finding out," remember? It's not my job to make things happen, or manipulate my own thinking. He is lovingly and painfully giving me crowns to lay at His feet. 

Instead of pulling myself up and making every effort to fake "good courage," I'm learning to say, "Lord, help me wait on You. Enable me to be of good courage. Please strengthen my heart." I like this way better; it hurts in the short term, but isn't as painful in the long run as disobedience from my own attempts. Notice the marks of my tears on this page as I created it. 

Because there is joy during trials, here are some photos I've enjoyed this week:

Here is my Dad circa 1970. When his number came up, he was obedient to the call to Vietnam. He spent over a year of his life there, and wouldn't be who he is today had he not been through that difficult time. Here he is with a pup that died shortly after this photo was taken. Dad says it was discovered that the dog had rabies, so all the guys who had handled him had to go through a series of shots. My Dad is my favorite vet, and I thanked him and many others on Nov. 11 for their sacrifices. Obedience comes in various forms. 

We worked on parts of school outside this week, and Nibbles accompanied us. She delights in eating grass from the yard, although most of it is brown these days. Pray for rain for western North Carolina, as I'm sure you've heard about the wildfires here. As distracting as it can be to have our piggy along for schoolwork, we have to look for and receive joy where God gives it, and she fits the bill for sure. If you desire a pet but don't want a lot of work, a guinea pig is perfect. 

We went to Dad's alma mater yesterday to enjoy a football game. This man is Uncle Tim Remaley, my godfather and special friend. He and Dad were teammates at Wofford and have known each other over fifty years. I'm grateful to have had Uncle Tim's love and company since the day I was born. I don't see him often enough anymore, but am happy to catch him at a game. Thank You, Lord, for him and his family, who have always been like my own. 

Until next time! Thanks for reading. Pass this on to others who need a friend in Christ.