Outback Girl

A few years ago, Dale and I were out on one of our notorious Thursday night date nights, eating dinner at Outback, one of my personal favorites, enjoying a lovely quiet dinner when something caught our attention. The sound was almost like white noise, a constant flow coming from a table across the isle and a few booths back. Casually we both took a turn looking to see who it was and saw a college-aged girl chattering away mindlessly to an obviously uninterested guy across from her. We exchanged a look and then snickered, going back to our lavish spread of delicacies. When we got in the car I said, "You think I'm like that girl, don't you?" He made some completely sarcastic comment about how he would never say anything of the sort and we laughed again at how completely self-consumed people can be in conversation.



This last couple of weeks, I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I'm Outback girl! I have been on the horn every recess, during lunch, after school, and after football practice. And not only that, last weekend, every time I called someone, someone else would beep in, giving me hope of just a few more minutes of conversation with someone above the age of, well, grade school. I have been a little starved for grown-up conversation. And I justify it by the fact that telephone conversation does not do justice what face-to-face conversation does for the soul, so I need MORE of it! And what's worse is, after the kids go to bed, it's really too late to call anyone since I live out here on the other side of the cosmos where we are still going long after the rest of the world has gone to bed, so I get on my email and write long, long messages to people that I may or may not have had a lengthy conversation with just hours ago. Why I think that I could possibly have anything more important to say that can't wait until the next day when I can call is beyond my comprehension, but I don't reason it out. I figure, if they don't want to read it, I'll never know. This is all moderately embarrassing for me and leads me to carefully contemplate the burden I must hoist upon my loving husband, who usually fills the brunt of this need for me single-handedly. Which brings me to my next point.



I read a poem on myspace the other night on Laura's page. I don't know her, I just found her through a friend's sister's page. I'd like to credit her for the poem, but I tweaked in a tiny bit and frankly, there was no signature or by-line, so who knows who wrote it. I was so inspired by this poem that I wanted to write a long post about it, but I was hesitant because I reacted to emotionally to it, which, by the way, is how I am reacting to EVERYTHING in creation these days, so I was nervous to lay my soul bare here on my blog. Now I've let it settle for a few days and feel confident I can post a little less, you know, bare-ly. Here it is:

In an effort to get people to look into each other's eyes more, the government has decided to allot each person exactly one hundred and sixty-seven words, per day. When the phone rings, I put it to my ear without saying hello. In the restaurant I point at chicken noodle soup. I am adjusting well to the new way. Late at night, I call my long distance lover and proudly say I only used fifty-nine today. I saved the rest for you. When he doesn't respond, I know he's used up all his words so I slowly whisper I love you, thirty-two and a third times. After that, we just sit on the line and listen to each other breathe.

OK, here's what inspired me about this. I am talking WAY TOO MUCH, just like I eat too much, spend too much, yell too much, sleep too much, and waste TOO MUCH TIME. I want to limit my words to a simple quota like this. I love it. IN AN EFFORT TO INCREASE EYE CONTACT... More like, in an effort to be more deliberate about everything you say, more careful to decide about each word you speak, more decisive about the things that go into and come out of your mouth... how about setting a simple boundary?

My friend Shanda, the great conversationalist, used to pause in the conversation before she'd speak. This proved to be extremely unsettling for me initially, so I'd fill the pause with nervous laughter or chatter just to close the gap in the conversation. What I soon came to find out was that she was thinking, composing a careful response to my question or previous statement. I learned to stop filling the gap with noise to allow her to think. Upon this new found discovery, I trained myself, still nervous, to look down and pretend to be busy with something until she responded. Finally I accepted this mannerism of hers and savored the still moment, knowing that whatever followed would be worth the wait.

We used to attend a cell group, eons ago, with a lot of people that had a lot to say and I loved every minute of it, because for a good portion of our time together, every time, we would laugh. The balance of that was that when things would get serious, we felt safe sharing our secrets and struggles with each other. It was a real kingdom connection, you know? And in that group, while a lot of people said a lot of good things, there was one guy that always sort of sat back and took everything in. He barely said a word during that soul searching time, but every once in a while he'd clear his throat right before he spoke and immediately a hush would fall over the group. It was almost like every person would lean in just a little to make sure they heard what he had to say. Now, I'll tell you the truth. He wasn't the smartest guy I've ever known, and some of the things he said were really basic, simple truths, but we all respected him because he CHOSE what he wanted to say, and when he wanted to say it. It gave him a real air of wisdom.

I rarely have something really good to say, and if I do, who would know for all the idiocy surrounding that good thing? This little poem, a few lines on a page, could be a real catalyst for change in my life. Or it could just be the next great idea that will last until Friday and I'll chuck it with the rest of them and start again on Monday. Love, Outback Girl.

Home Schooling

It's always difficult for me to repress the squirm when someone asks me why I home school. I'm not embarrassed about it; I don't feel like we are sub-par because of our choice to educate our children at our dining room table. It's not a sore subject for any of us usually. But when someone who is pro-public education corners me with that question, I find it difficult to answer honestly without coming across undesirably. So I just want to put it out there.

There is a moral code, a system of values, that used to fuel education in this country that has been lost, or rather, obliterated along the way, and replaced with political correctness and moral relativism. I'm not looking for forgiveness on the subject, I just want to set the record straight. We have been given a charge to raise our children in the fear and admonition of the Lord and will not take that lightly. That includes not entrusting them for the majority of their day to be molded and shaped by the thinking of someone we don't know, using a system we don't trust, teaching values and theories that are polar opposites of our core beliefs.


This raises eyebrows and tensions, I know. I am taking a risk in expressing my position on this topic because I have good friends that teach and good friends that send their kids to public schools. I am not poo-pooing you. This is about me and us and the whys from where we are on the issue. The time will come to send our children to school, be it private or public, depending on where we land and how they fare. But for now, we have not found a place lauded by those involved enough to consider for our children. It just hasn't happened.

With that said, let me tell you, it is O-VER-WHEL-MING! FOUR SYLLABLES!!!! This, my first year to teach four grades, and my first year of teaching with an on-line academy; it is blowing my hair back. I tend to be a little bit of an over-achiever; if you know me, you know this about me. I want my kids to learn every detail of every lesson that I teach. And if they don't, I want them to get the gist of it. And if they don't, I want them to at least look at me while I'm trying to sound really interesting to keep their attention. And if they don't, well that's where it gets a little fuzzy.

I am not very patient. I am not a great teacher. I am not highly intelligent. And I don't like to be blown off. These things work against me in ways that I have difficulty controlling. Which is why I am thankful for the flexibility of our circumstances, allowing me to drop what we're doing and initiate gym class or music or snack time or nap time or jumping jacks, whatever the situation calls for.

Please pray for me. I am also hormonal, and hungry, and exhausted after eight hours of sleep and mostly I just want to snuggle up on the couch and read stories to the children and call it a day. Can someone call the principle and ask if that's OK? Maybe not for all year, or even all semester, but maybe he could just cut me some slack for a week or two and then we'll, you know, be really good and work hard after that and stuff...

This was delivery day. They were so excited about all the things we would be studying and learning and doing that several times I heard them say, "This is just like Christmas!" and "This is the best school ever!"

It really is. They all have their own little idiosyncrasies and I wonder how they would be addressed in a traditional classroom setting. I also wonder how much they would miss as a result of those things, when here at home, I can hone in on them and correct them a little everyday because I can spot them so easily.

Nothing worth doing is ever without a price, I'm just a little broke in the required toll this week. It'll be better next week, especially if we get the go ahead on the story-time thing. That'll be great.

Funny Stuff

1. For a year or two years or three I have been blogging and every time I post something new I crack up at this. I type in *www.bs* and up comes my blog and I think, "Hahaha. B.S." And then I fight away the urge to write about how funny I think that is and tonight I'm pulling out all the stops.

2. I'm pregnant.

3. I called my little brother tonight. We haven't talked much in the past year or six; I mean, we talk when we can but we are both extremely busy so when we get a chance to talk and we are both really up for the conversation, we talk for a long time. Well tonight he was ready to shoot the breeze and when I told him, he laughed right out loud, a deep rolling belly laugh, which thrilled my little heart to bits. Because that's what I did. I laughed. Just like Sarah. Just like I did the last three times I got pregnant by surprise in what I deemed at the time the hardest stage of my life. I still laugh when I talk about it. And what I think is so great about my little brother is that he laughed with me. It was genuine and sincere and the way he really felt about the whole ordeal.

A lot of people say a lot of cruel things to us about having so many children. People with no wits say, "You know how that happens right?" People with no sense say, "What are you gonna do?" People with no heart say a polite congratulations and then talk about how crazy you are not to *protect against these kinds of things*.

I expected all of these responses because I've gotten all of them on more than one occasion and I'll tell you right now, I don't care how nuts you think I am, for some reason God keeps rewarding us over and over and over again with children. I don't know why, I don't think it's fair sometimes because there are much more capable mothers out there than me that would do anything to have just one more baby. I am a terrible mother sometimes. I blow my top; I say awful things to my kids sometimes. I can be mean and insensitive and irresponsible and ugly to them; I always try to make it right, but the guilt overwhelms me and I wonder why I was given such a precious gift when my clumsy selfish idiocy breaks them to bits with things that I say. But when I am reasonable and calm and at peace with my place, I feel honored to be given such a charge in this life.

I wrote an email today and while talking about our zero responsibilities in our local church, I almost said that we weren't sure what God wanted to do with us yet. HA! He moved us out here two thousand miles from home to do a secular job with kingdom work and six lives to nurture and carefully tend into adulthood and *I'm not sure what God wants to do with us yet...* It's so easy to lose sight of what is so foundational when it is so intangible. Thank You, God, for such an honor. Remind me to do the work with delicate precision.

Indecision

I don't like to be the one to decide. True, the nature of my being is to hope that someone will make the decision for me and it will be the one I would have made, but I like to dodge the responsibility of making that decision on my own if at all possible. That doesn't happen often. My days are packed, seriously, stocked-full of decisions carefully considered and made by yours truly. So at the end of the day, if I haven't spent the time the week before making menus, I don't want to decide what we should eat for dinner. Especially if we are going out. It's becoming more and more rare for us to go out for a meal, so I want it to be perfect, delicious, and cheap; all of which cannot co-exist, as we all know. So I'd rather just let you decide, drive me there, and I'll eat what is set before me and enjoy it knowing that it's what you wanted.

Which leads me to the reason I am becoming more and more scarce in this venue. I don't know what to write. I know people like to see pictures of our lives here, I know that because they tell me, and because it keeps our families connected. I also know that people want to read about something I've learned, if there's anything worth sharing, because it encourages my friends that don't have time to read, to at least think. But here where it gets foggy. I want to write about what's on my mind. I want to spill my guts. I want to tell all my secrets here in this quiet room, on this clean screen in front of me, where everything is still and feels safe. But then I remember there are scary blog stockers that might exloit me for my secrets and make a fool of me for sharing!!! But on the other hand, I think that on the whole, we all think about this stuff, these private thoughts, and maybe it would benefit someone to read them, to shed light on them, and maybe share wisdom. At least if you know I'm thinking about it, and you're thinking about it, either we're normal, or we're all nuts. Right? I think so.

I don't know what to write, and I don't have the intellectual fortitude this late at night to make that decision, so I'll just tell you what's on my mind.

I'm a little homesick; it's hard to be this far away. At first I thought it would be good to get on our feet and find ourselves apart, make friends, taste life away. Now I just want to go home. We have a great life here, don't get me wrong. And I am really trying to savor the riches of everything the midwest is not, but tonight I'm homesick. I have a lot of people around me that I could call friends. But there's no one here that would not be shocked out of their wits to find me at spontaneously at their front door with all my kids in tow. I miss being able to just show up, eat your food, use your bathroom, and let my kids run free on your property while I take a nap on your couch or spin my life like a soap opera for your entertainment. I miss that the most.

Everyday I am reminded of the fact that family is God's gift to mankind, and in this my friends, I am rich. He grows us in roots and branches, extensions of each other; we share blood. Then He says, "Now, you are born again. So he's your brother, and she's your sister. Here is your family, grafted in to My family tree. You share My blood." It's just incredible. And yet there is such a sense of insecurity in our ties. I'm not sure that we are of the same blood because church people can be so perplexing; so I cover this part of me, the unveiled true-blue me, and play friendly and polite, but only if you do. You know what I mean? Which is why I just want to go home. I know my family, inside and out, ups and downs, the good, the bad and the ugly. There's no hiding and no reason to hide. And I know you talk about me, *they all think we're nuts* but I don't care, these are the ABC's of me, baby! With you I'm home.

Puppy and the Troll

This poor dog, he really does have a lot of my attention temporarily. I heard some sniveling in the the kennel the other day while I was working in the kitchen and found Max locked in with a large stick and...

the resident princess. I laughed and laughed and laughed as I watched her push him back with, "No, puppy! No, puppy!" every time he tried to sneak by her. Like a loyal subject, he conceded and she would climb in almost on top of him and grab ahold of the mesh to shut the door.I stuck my head in to make sure he had enough space behind her so that he wouldn't come out wounded and she grabbed my face with both hands and pushed it out of the kennel, then shut the door, which spawned gales of laughter from me and then her too. I think she likes to be in charge of someone, since obviously, everyone here has some seniority over her. Unfortunately for the puppy, he doesn't know that he's not obligated to her antics

I don't know how long she played in there with him. Seriously, I was just glad she was into someone else's business and not dragging things out of the fridge or the cabinets or scribbling on something or following me around making demands in jibberish. If for no other reason than this, I am once again thankful for Maximus, the Wonder Pup.

Changes

This is Leila's favorite shirt. Everytime she sees it, she insists on wearing it. It doesn't matter what she wears it with, this day a diaper was all she needed, as long as she has on the puppy shirt. I love it when it comes through the wash, which sometimes takes a little while, because she gets so excited when I pull it out. It really is about the simple things in life, isn't it She's almost seven and just started losing teeth this summer. I was beginning to wonder if the bottom two would rot out before they fell out. Once the concern started to mount, I decided to investigate the matter and found the grown up teeth making an appearance before the bottom rotters even considered making a move. Which brought us to threats of a trip to the dentist if she didn't start working them a little. She got to wiggling them and before we knew it they were both gone. Then she lost the top one. That big boy was coming through already too! She's still got one baby tooth up front, hanging on for dear life, but if I have anything to do with it, we'll be sending it home with the forgetful fairy that steals the tooth in the middle of the morning when no one's looking, very, very soon. I had to show Bud in a feat of strength- or rather, a display of strength. He's trimmed down so much since football started, it cracks me up. He is a big kid and built like a linebacker ever since he started wearing 6x, but not he's a lean, mean, snapping machine. He is still wrestling with the moral dilema of hitting boys that he has nothing against, I think, which is why the coach gave him the important responsibility of snapping the ball the quarterback. And he takes it very seriously. Now, after that is a little different story, but he looks like a pro. Isn't that what bantam league is all about? I'm gonna have to say yes.
I went in to check on the girls one night and found this little number sprawled out completely across both girls. Once I got the camera and snapped the picture, he had actually pulled his legs in a little. But the first scene entailed Max with arms and legs stretched out full length across both girls. He's so funny. He has no idea that he's a huge dog yet. This morning he jumped up beside me on the couch and curled up into a tiny little ball in the crack of the couch cushions. He's in for a real surprise in the next few months. He doesn't look very tall, but his face is just about as big as Leila's head and his paws I cannot fit my hand completely around, which both tell us that a beast will emerge from this sweet puppy. Maybe we're the ones that are in for a real surprise!

California Dreamin'

We love our neighborhood because it's far enough from town to be secluded, but still in the city limits, and before school started there were usually kids everywhere. When we realized this move would be a reality, it was heartbreaking for the kids, who had real friends that they couldn't even think of moving away from. So we prayed and God answered. This is one of several of Kennedy's best friends.
We live at the open end of a culda sac which makes us the final boundary of the dead end before going out onto the main road of our complex. I love that the kids can ride their bikes up and down the street without constant supervision because the traffic is very minimal and generally limited to the residents of the community. I don't worry about someone sticking them in their car down the street and taking off. *I still keep one eye on them whenever they are outside.*
These boys have finally come to accept one another. Max still pounces Scooder, but Scooder tolerates him and looks sad when I lock Max up in his kennel. I didn't realize until just now how much Max has grown since I took this photo. His front legs seem to be almost twice as long now. It will be interesting to see how things change between them once he outgrowns Scooder by three times his height!

I think this game they play is so cute. I don't exactly understand what it is that they're doing, but it looks like some kind of repair shop. They use leaves and grass for something. I just think it's cute.
They live outside. We are still sitting hours on the football field everynight, so with that and running the street all day, they have gotten pretty tan, which is funny to me. I never thought my kids would tan, I just assumed we'd have to buy stock in sunblock and load them up everyday. They've burned a couple of times, but it didn't keep them in the house, so I just let it go.
And here they all are... Leila is always in the middle of the action trying to mimick whatever is going on. She still thinks she's a grown-up kid. It's hard to believe she'll be two in a few days. I guess life really does go on.

Football, Baby!

I've promised these pictures to so many people. Here they are! Dun da DUN! Isn't he adorable? The kid is fast, he's got good form, he's ready for a half hour before we leave the house every day, and he respects each coach and whatever they say...
But he won't hit. He gets out there lookin like a pro and won't hurt a fly. Other moms keep telling me that it will come, he'll get hit hard and it'll make him mad which will push him to another level. I'm telling you, he's getting pummelled and there's no wrath in him. I want to just cheer him on to victory, but the coach is holding him back because he's holding back.
I know he can hit, I've seen it plenty of times. SO, being the type of mother that I am, I'm paying him. *I learned this trick from my mom who paid my little sister a quarter for every full day she stayed in school all day.* A quarter for every time he gets somebody on the ground. I don't know if I'm doing the right thing by saying, "I don't care who it is, as long as he's on the other side, get 'em down and you're getting paid, Bud!"

I used to dream about the days I'd have a son playing football. I love football season and now, being in the lovely, tropical Lompoc Valley, sitting through practices is hardly a chore at sixty-five degrees. I pity my friends suffering heat stroke in the midwest. It's always a source of amazement to me the things God cares about and brings to life.

Perspective

I have been trudging through How to Read the Bible for All Its Worth for a very, very long time now. I read it way back in my nocturnal days working as a CNA, but it was difficult to process just reading, which is what inspired the study guides. Now I've completed the careful combing of information and collecting the points that were more difficult to grasp in a study guide. Dun dun DONE!!!! With the reading it helps to punch the intent of each point and makes this seemingly difficult information more attainable. I know this because I've read it with, and I've read it without. And I didn't remember anything from it when I read it without. But now I have PERSPECTIVE. Yes... perspective. The overachiever in me wants to read it again and read each book of the Bible alongside each chapter of the coinciding book, which I will probably do eventually. But for now I am joining up with the ladies' Bible study at church and I need to focus some of my energy there.

I haven't been in a Bible study like this for a long time- not since the womens Bible study in the A-Frame. I loved that Bible study. I was shaped by that Bible study in so many ways. What's funny is that I don't remember what we studied, but the body of Christ was built in those hours of pouring our hearts out on the table and bearing each others' burdens and praying dilligently for each other. One of the ladies had a son that wouldn't eat anything but chicken nuggets and I used to tag all of my prayers- all of them- with "and please make Michael eat!" That still echoes in my head sometimes.

It's hard not to have high expectations when that is my point of reference. I've done Bible studies since, but there's really no comparrison, the situations were so different. There, there was a core of a lot of women that were committed to each other and to the church and to that Bible study. Everybody showed up; everybody spilled their guts. And when everybody's putting in 100%, there's no room for it to fail.

I don't expect to find myself in that situation again because my expectations have gotten me in trouble too many times to be that naive. But I think it will be a good experience and I will enjoy getting to know some people. I won't be teaching. I was asked to teach, but at that time I was still unsure of my committment because of other pressing schedule conficts, so I decided not to. I miss teaching, but I will enjoy listening more.

Perspective. It's an amazing catalyst.

Kingdom Thoughts

I can't get away from these thoughts about the kingdom of God; it's led me into some serious soul-searching. Every morning I get up and pray that I will be what I'm supposed to be, and most nights I go to bed and pray that I will not fail as miserably tomorrow as I did today. It has brought me to a crossroad of sorts. Not that I haven't been here before, but with a little knowledge this time I have found some reprieve in what I've discovered.

The kingdom of God is a complex topic of discussion and despite my search I haven't been able to define it for most of my life. Something that I read shed a little light, but there are aspects of the kingdom that perplex way smarted people than me, so I choose to tuck that part away and focus on the simple understanding that I have gleaned. In the gospels, some people believe that Jesus' intent in telling parables was to directly point people into the kingdom of God, which is exactly that, His kingdom. The confusion I always had with the term was where it was and what it entailed. Jesus said, in Matthew 12:28 *But if I cast out demons by the Spirit of God, then the kingdom of God has come upon you.* Obviously He did cast them out so the kingdom of God was there, and is here. Also, He said in Mark 1:15, *The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the gospel.*

I am a little out of my league here, so correct me if I'm wrong, but as far as I understand at this point is that Jesus ushered in the Kingdom of God. Now, with His coming, it is here on earth for those who are born again. The completion will come with His return at the end of the age. Here is an interesting definition of the Kingdom of God that we are members of, citizens of, and patriots to.

The hour of fulfillment has come; that is the keynote of them all. The strong man is disarmed, the powers of evil have to yield, the physician has come to the sick, the lepers are cleansed, the heavy burden of guilt is removed, the lost sheep is brought home, the door of the Father's house is opened, the poor and the beggars are summoned to the banquet, a master whose kindness is undeserved pays wages in full, a great joy fills all hearts. God's acceptable year has come. For there has appeared the one whose veiled majesty shines through every word and every parable- the Saviour. From George Ladd's THE PRESENCE OF THE FUTURE

My problem here is that I fall so short. Even when I am praying and seeking God's strength, I narily meet the expectations I have for followers of Christ. This perspective gives me a goal, a hope of the life to come, and the inspiration to LIVE this life in the Kingdom, despite the fallenness of this present age.

Here's another thing that occurred to me this weekend in dealing with the difficulties of children's interactions with each other and feelings getting hurt. Our worldview, in a nutshell, is that we're all in this thing together. I keep thinking of that line from the 80's rap song COLORS, *We're all in the same gang*. We as the body of Christ universal should have this in mind all the time, with our goal set to win the lost; to WIN THEM, not to shield ourselves against the world. I am talking philosophically here, not that we should lay down and let wicked men tear us to shreds. The world lives as every man for himself. The Survivor alliances that are so volitile and such a lie are a perfect depiction of life in this world- every man has allegiance to himself and that's it. It's so simple and yet gave me such clarity. Pray for me to win them and to consistently live the love of Christ every minute of every day.