Showing posts with label life-quest. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life-quest. Show all posts

Friday, May 10, 2013

Dear Diary, I'm Back!


Hello friends! Good to be back!

My oh my, what a month! I took the time I needed to get several pressing things squared away. It feels good to have these things checked off my very long to-do list.

I'll be honest with you -- I had hoped to return to blogging with several really clever posts in queue . . .

But that just didn't happen.

Last night I realized -- with a little panic -- that I haven't written anything at all this month. (Well, except for a few Twitter and Facebook status updates, but they don't really count as writing.) I tossed and turned in bed until I remembered something my blog friend Jillian (who now goes by Mabel) used to say:
"My blog: my rules." 
Simple as that. So I'm going to do what I need to do so that I don't have to give up blogging and studying the classics during this busy season of my life. Right now that means I need to write in more of a "dear diary" fashion. Why am I cringing as I type this? I feel like I'm apologizing!



I'm deeply grateful to all of you who have stayed with me this month. Your encouragement gives me joy!

Quick update: I finished Gulliver's Travels. I found it a bit odd, but I wasn't bored. I'm hoping to decode some of the satire soon. I expect to say, "Oh! Now I get it!" or something like that. We'll see.

I'm planning to start reading Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens on Monday May 13th. If you'd like to read along, please join me for the Oliver Twist synchro-read on Facebook!


What have you been up to this past month? Anything you want to bring me up to speed on?



Thursday, March 21, 2013

Beautiful Vulnerability



When I write I hope to make a connection with you. I want you to feel as though you can hear my voice. I want to leave you with information that is helpful -- real, honest stuff that will build you up! But here's the truth: writing that way takes more courage than I have sometimes. To do that I have to allow myself to be vulnerable. 

Some examples of thoughts I've had:


I've been through some difficult life struggles, but you've been through worse. You think I'm shallow.


I have no degree whatsoever; you have a PhD. You're smirking at my little book reports.


I have five kids; you have ten. (Or two, and you're wondering if I've figured out yet how to prevent pregnancy.)


I'm SO excited because I just ran a mile! You run ten miles every morning.


I just got caught up on laundry for the first time in ten years; you never go to sleep at night until every scrap is folded and put away.



It's endless. Roaming through the blogosphere should help, but sometimes it just makes me feel more unworthy.

Our hearts are fragile things. It takes courage to open them up.




I would much rather write about what Tolstoy thinks or what Augustine thinks than write about what I think. After spending a considerable amount of time inside the heads of these writers, I consider them to be my friends. (Don't laugh.) Sometimes I hunker behind them. (You might not think highly of me, but everyone thinks highly of my friends!)

But I've noticed when I do scrape together the courage to tell my own stories, the response is usually uplifting. The sting of negative criticism is soothed by the balm of understanding. One of the main reasons I read great classic literature is to become more empathetic. Putting myself out there though -- yikes! --that's a whole different thing!


When you find out about my imperfections, you might not like me anymore. But I can't make a connection with others without taking that risk.

What keeps us out of connection is the fear that we are not worthy of connection. Brené Brown

My stats rise, then decline, then rise again. Why? I scratch the back of my head. On the downer days I sometimes feel a little blue. I'm not worthy. I must have used a comma when I should have used a semicolon! I must have used a word that is now politically incorrect! Then someone will leave a comment that is so encouraging, it brings tears to my eyes. In those moments I know I must keep trying. I must strive to open up the heavy door to my heart. I must take risks while exploring my thoughts about the classics and life.


One thing is certain: when you show courage by making yourself vulnerable, I think it's beautiful.

I want to be beautiful too.


Last week, I stumbled upon a video of a talk by Brené Brown. If this post spoke to you and you feel that you struggle with feelings of unworthiness like me, take 20 minutes to watch this. If you don't have time right now, book mark the page and come back to it when you do. This is one of the best talks I've ever heard. 



Note: Since I wrote this post, I've started reading Brené Brown's book, The Gifts of Imperfection. So far it's been really helpful. I look forward to sharing more thoughts about it in the future.

Thursday, September 6, 2012

Happenings: Why I'm Not Homeschooling My Kids



My classical quest has truly come to feel like a physical quest to me --  you know the storybook kind with lots of hills, valleys and dark forests. This summer, I've struggled to stay on the path. There have been more than a few obstacles to overcome. 
At this moment I feel as though I'm standing on a pinnacle looking back over the last several months. 

Last winter, two weeks before my fifth baby was born, we put our oldest two kids in public school. Before this event, public school was never an option. I really thought we would homeschool until all our chicks left the nest. Long after it stopped working for us, I kept chanting, "I will work HARDER!" over and over. (Have you ever read Animal Farm, by George Orwell? There was an old work horse who always said, "I will work HARDER!" whenever things went awry. Eventually he was sent to the glue factory. I've always related to this character for some disconcerting reason.)

To be perfectly honest, when my kids were home they weren't always being schooled. My long, rough bout with morning sickness caused everyone to fall far behind. At eight months pregnant, I  often fell asleep during their lessons. My pre-school aged kids watched too much Netflix. I felt guilty for taking any rest during the day. It seemed the whole future of civilization depended on whether or not I could hold things together! (Indeed, a lot of homeschool moms feel this way; I've known some to crack under the pressure.) My husband came home to a frazzled wife every day. On days when we got a good bit of school work done, the house was a wreck and dinner was frozen pizza. On days when there was a nice home-cooked meal and a reasonably clean house, school didn't happen.
Homeschooling was a hard thing for me to give up. You could say I was "beating a dead horse" and I didn't stop beating it until after the horse had been dead so long it was beginning to stink. That's when my husband sat down with me. He gently grasped both my hands, looked me straight in the eyes and said, "We are going to put the kids in public school and they are going to be fine."

I'm very grateful to the homeschool movement for bringing classical self-education back into vogue.  I wonder if I would be on this quest now if it were not for my homeschool connections. Part of me will always be a homeschool mom at heart. My husband and I talk frequently about the possibility of bringing our older children home in the future -- but for now we are simply taking it a year at at time.

One thing is for certain, my children's public school teachers rescued us last year. I have immense appreciation for them now. When (and if) we homeschool again, I will not do it out of fear. ("I must protect my kids from the system.") And hopefully I won't do it in a spirit of pride. ("I can do a better job than my local school teachers can.") I feel sorry for the judgmental feelings I used to have about anything public school related and I feel sad that I have been guilty of showing disappointment toward families who "gave up" and put their kids into the system in the past.


Some have expressed surprise and even consternation over our schooling decision. I don't really owe anyone an explanation, but as a blog author with a loyal following, I feel as though it is time to communicate some reasoning and clear up the misconception that I put my kids into a brick & mortar school so I could have more time for myself -- for reading through the classics and self-education. We didn't put them in for that reason, but now that they are in, yes, obviously I have more time for writing and reading! Also, I have more time to prepare meals for seven people, keep up on housework and have precious one-on-one time with my two little ones who are still at home!
What has this leg of the journey taught me? Humility, empathy and perseverance -- in that order.

What is your life-quest teaching you?